Huckleberry was unusually subdued in his interaction with Oliver, perhaps partly because of the terrible shock he'd just given himself and perhaps because he didn't want to hurt Oliver any more then he had. Although he hadn't been one of the ones that had, well, attacked him, it had been his brothers and sisters and mother that had wounded him. He'd never forgive himself for that.

So he simply watch Shiny as she poked curiously as Oliver's wings. I want wings, Huckle-friend. He gave her a small smile. But you can fly on mine. The little catsquirrel flicked her tail in his face with exasperation. Yeah, but they're not my wings.

He didn't respond to this, distracted by the stream of water that Oliver had conjured for him. At first, he was confused. He didn't really need to drink. But then he realized what it was for and turned so that it would cool on his back, right where the lightning had hit. The area was singed and the fur was still bristling with static but the instant the water touched on him and breathed out a sigh of relief.

It took him a few more moments to fully recover the strength in his limbs (or, at least, some of it. Enough to walk, anyways) and he stumbled to his feet. Shiny reached up to jump on his back but then apparently though better of it at the sight of the burn where she usually would sit. He leaned down and nosed her away in the direction he would leave, casting one last worried and fearful glance at Oliver. "Th-thanks..." he stammered before rushing off, stumbling as he did. He'd find a better place to finish nursing his wounds.

*exit