Quentin hadn't felt anything like this. It was very unlike being surrounded by cave walls, yet the impression of the thought flashed through his mind in the briefest moment of clarity before another bash to the wall threw him out of the loop of conciousness. He had to focus- bobbing up and down, he got intermittent breaths of air mingled with liquid only to be dragged back down. Pain stung all over- it was a surprise he even registered any of it.

Things began to slide to a close as the mud dragged against his feet, the little fox set adrift until he was unceremoniously dumped to the end of it. Muffled sounds rang in his ears. Disoriented, Quentin willed his water-heavy body to stand, only managing to prop himself up on a front leg before flopping back down.

He'd never been drenched before. It was suffocating, and- he realized, he himself couldn't breathe.

Oh, dear desert. Panic shot through him as he struggled to cough, hacking up a mixture of dirt and water, ragged breathes coming in spades as the realization of his full injuries slammed into him. Sharp- white hot, it took him a moment to even breathe in after the shock to his entire system caught up to him.

He'd been scarred before. Vultures trying to retrieve him, nicks and scrapes from tumbles, nothing was out of the ordinary. But this- parts of his skin were pockmarked with angry red dots beginning to form and streak out now that there was no water to rush him away. His shoulder, though, and the reason he could barely stand, flooded the matted fur below with streaks of deep, muddy red- a deep gouge streaked across it angrily as Quentin tried his best to look over it.

It was a surprise he didn't break it. Heaving, Quentin nearly felt like throwing up, shoving his weight onto his other shoulder and shakily bringing himself up to a standing position.

The sound of Mirage's feet in the fast-drying soil barely made it through his waterlogged ears. Blearily, he glanced her way, and nearly fell over trying to take a step towards her. Hissing, white pain shot through his shoulder and up his neck- ok, no, not using that for a little bit. Looks like he and Mirage traded situations, now- he was the hurt one needing help.

"Mira-" he choked out before coughing, spittles of brown-stained water escaping his esophagus. "I- I can." It was a wonder that she kept up, and Quentin winced as he turned his head towards her. He must have bashed his neck in that- maybe.

A nervous gulp ran down his throat as he shakily brought himself to all threes, his lame leg held above the ground. Even moving unlocked aches and pains- from the base of his tail, to the ankle that held his gem, pain rumbled through like an earthquake. "It- I've never had that- Happen, before," he managed to wheeze out. He could barely move, and every wet tremble he shook out only sparked more nerves underneath his torn skin.

A weak laugh came out of him, one of bundling nervousness spilling out. "I think we should- I think, if- it would mean- yeah." He could barely get anything out, squinting his eyes before shutting them to the pain, nearly falling into Mirage's wing. They needed to move- even though this flood was over, the scent of blood could draw out something dastardly. "Let- Let me get to the shade." Still fighting rising bile, Quentin pressed his bad side into his owl friend, unaware- or unthinking- about the blood beginning to mat in place. "Just- give me a second- let me- walk on you." A wince came out of him as he readjusted against her.

He didn't want to move, didn't want to worry her, and he certainly didn't want to burden her like this. Wherever she would walk, Quentin would try and follow, leaning as little as he needed onto her slight frame.

The owl stared with wide eyes, her expression not nearly shielded enough behind her amber gemstone. Her best friend had nearly vanished, just like that. Not even from a nasty, starving Sand Worm or a vicious, eye-plucking vulture. The stream had always been safe before. They had a protocol in place for flooding, but never had she expected it to happen. It was completely unlike anything she had seen before, and, and...

Mirage cringed as Quentin threw up a brown liquid-y substance-- she coughed up fur and bones all the time, but he never had anything come up out of his mouth. She quickly turned her head around one hundred and eighty degrees to peer at how far out they had come. It was a long way out from home, and they didn't have a sled this time to help get Quentin back. The mud was sticky on her talons as she stepped around her friend, a worry fretting through her damp feathers. Even she had gotten a little wet in the mess of it all, and she could not imagine what it was like to be completely soaked. As she looked back at Quentin, it was hard not to notice how heavy he looked, weighed down by the thickness of the muck.

"It'll be okay," Mira chirped, as he suggested they get to some shade. That was the best thing they could do, find some kind of place to huddle down so they could clean his fur and let him rest until he had the energy to get back to the Crucible proper. She wriggled herself into position at his shoulder, helping him balance on three legs. Hopefully his last leg would be okay-- at least he had two to spare, compared to her, so it would be alright. She had to believe that, anyway.

Slowly, she started to walk along side him, helping him walk. Before long they had a ginger, wobbly gait going. "That's it," she encouraged, "just a bit farther, we'll be there in no time. Just to some shade, then we can rest!" It was a great plan. Quentin always knew what to do. She would keep him safe while he recovered... And she could preen some of the icky water out of his fur once they found somewhere safe to settle down.

He couldn't thank Mira enough for just existing. How long had he been alone- how long ago would he have had to drag himself away, sit in the shade as he healed hungry? She was a saint, for all he knew, even if he'd been the one to rescue her weeks ago. With her shoulder pressed against his and with a wince at every other step, the two slowly inched their way to the Crucible's side wall.

The relief in the shade was almost instant- he didn't feel like his skin was boiling off with all the water across it anymore, though it had begun to dry out in the heat. Not to say the cliffside wasn't hot, though. No, it absolutely was. Just knowing they were out of sight of the vultures, though, lightened a load in Quentin's belly. And, some more coughing, apparently.

"Thank you," came the pained sigh from the little fennec, his eyes closing as he nearly collapsed to his stomach against the wall. He just needed a moment to breathe after all that.

After a brief stint of silence, he sighed and heaved himself up into a half leaning, half sitting on one foot, his dark eyes resting tiredly on the owl he'd taken care of for the past half cycle. "Thank you." He didn't mean to sigh out in repetition, but it only felt natural. "Maybe we should-" He halted as a twinge in his lungs blossomed into a stinging ache in his shoulder. It took a moment for him to suck in air between his teeth before continuing between hasty licks across the wound. "I- I don't know," he paused, turning his attention back to Mira as he pressed his body against the cliff to staunch the bleeding. "What I was going to say..." He finished with a nervous laugh.

"You.. You don't happen to know if you can do.. Do magic, right?" He'd never directly taught her about it, at the very least. She could have figured out on her own. He, for example, had shown her his own flavor- being able to hydrate himself just by being around water if he put his mind to it. He wasn't sure if her knack for finding nearby beings was the same sort of thing or just some sort of heightened senses. She was an owl after all- that's a whole different animal group than foxes, as far as he was aware.

Anyways. "Maybe you can... Try to do some healing... I, I don't know how that'd work though." Each phrase came out in a series of huffs, as if it was just a trek to even speak. Perhaps it was- with the last sentence finished, he sucked in hard and forced out a coughing sigh, resetting his breathing pattern and trying to quell his still raging heart.

Feathers ruffled as Mirage settled down in the shade next to Quentin, watching him with anxious, wide eyes. It looked like he was in a lot of pain, but she felt particularly helpless. She didn't know how to help him, but she stuck by his side as he struggled to think through his thoughts.

Magic! Of course, she had magic. It was as normal as breathing for her, but she knew that Quentin couldn't sense heartbeats the same as her. He could instead absorb water, which was pretty important out in the desert. She slowly blinked, then shuffled a little bit closer.

"I'm on it," she promised in a warm chirp, "you'll feel better in no time." Putting forth her energy into her actions, she began to preen through Quentin's damp fur, grooming out the icky muck that clung to his fur. She acted in full faith that if she believed, she would be able to heal Quentin-- even if that was nothing more than blind hope. She got the little specks of blood from scrapes out, and eventually reached the bad wound on his shoulder that he had been licking. "The bleeding will stop soon," she promised, "the wound looks clean, we should leave it alone so it can get all scabby."

She raised her head, staring with determination at her best friend. "Okay, now for the most important part of the magic," she said, reaching her talons forward to lightly touch the upper part of his leg, just bellow the wound. "You have to breathe with me," she insisted shortly. "Breathe in-- one, two, three... Breathe out, one, two, three..."

Even just Mirage's warm, childish voice set him at ease. He was so glad to have a friend in her- she was nothing like the beasts that roamed this cave. As rough as he may have looked in the moment, an honest purr rumbled out of him between the heavy breathes dominating his lungs. When she shuffled forward, he nudged himself to her, wide-eyed with wonder at some hidden magic she may have had.

Her preening felt heavenly. There was nothing like a precise beak and a friend who knew what she was doing. Even if it wasn't magic, Quentin sighed in relief and let himself roll to his side, focusing on just breathing over the dulling pain in his shoulder. "Thank you," he repeated for what could have been the millionth time. A billion thanks wouldn't be enough for her. Just her being here meant the world to him.

At the mention of the wound on his shoulder, he craned his head up to get a peek at it. Sniffing once or twice, he huffed, then moved to sit back up on his good leg. The bleeding had slowed to a clotting splatter, at least. Mirage did a good job. "Yeah. Maybe find something to- cover it with. Later." Stifling another cough, he waited as she steeled herself and nearly looked into his soul for the next set of instructions.

The fox nodded at the talon touch. Breathing- he could do that. It took about two breaths in for the action to take effect, but his nerves seemed to magically calm as he practiced. Did he teach her this? Was she just naturally good? With a (thankfully) normal sigh, Quentin leaned towards his best friend and laid his forehead upon her breastbone. It was a wordless gesture. It meant everything to him, though- and he spoke softly when the exercise was done. "It's funny. This time you saved me."

Of course, that's what best friends do. But, well, that was what his only friend he knew of would do, too. Now that he was okay, worries of relocation rose in the back of his mind, but he shoved them down to cling to and relish in the brief moment of respite gifted to them today.

Hehe, her "magic" seemed to work! It was hard not to break the spell with a chattering giggle, but when he spoke up again to thank her, she tilted her head. Behind her visor, her eyes squint shut with pride and she began to grind her beak together. "We save each other," she chirped softly, "that's what friends do. We look out for each other... You taught me that, you know!" Here he was, being all sappy and sweet, as though he wouldn't do the exact same thing for her in a heartbeat.

"... Let me know when you're ready to head back," she told him, "I can listen out for predators, make sure we'll be alright to head back." It was going to be a lot of work moving the den, but she was worried what it would look like when they got back. Had it flooded, too? They had gotten some nice nesting material set up, and if any of it was salvageable... Oof, it was a lot to think about just then.

She settled down on her feet, resting her shoulder into Quentin's good side. For right now, this was cozy enough... And, truth be told... Anywhere could be home, so long as it was with her friend.

Mirage's words themselves were like magic in Quentin's mind, dragging a smile out of him even more. Knowing what she had learned- that he helped exemplify her kindness and heart, lifted his spirit in the bittersweet moment then and there. "I'm proud of you," he spoke softly. His tail thumped slowly against the sandy floor, his eyes closing as he leaned back into her.

"Let's stay here. At least for a minute." The words came out as a happy sigh, his nose digging into Mirage's soft downy feathers. He wouldn't trade this feeling of warm comfort for anything.

He didn't want to think about the den now. Now about how they'd get back, about moving it higher- he just wanted to exist by his friend and partake in her gentle warmth, let it envelop him and smother him for the briefest of moments. He was greedy with the time, but, in a world of danger, wasn't it nice to just slow down and comfort yourselves?

Quentin would like to think so.