It was cold and wet, and his body felt heavy. He woke slowly, and struggled to open his eyes. It was daytime, the bright light shone through the cracks in the roots, and a gaping hole in the wall of the burrow was gently blowing snow inside. He swallowed with a dry throat, and winced at the pain that followed, as it echoed through his whole body. Turning his head, he could see that the fire was out, and Taymon seemed to be gone. He risked sitting up, but agony in his stomach pulled him hard back into the dirt. That inspired a coughing fit, which was a quick and informative way to find the rest of the places in his body that were suffering. He tried again, and crawled past his crimson vomit from the long night before.
He didn’t know what state he was in, but he did know he wouldn't be able to help himself or Uundah without some water first. A glance at Uundah reminded him of his friend's fate. He hoped against hope that the little O'jin was safe, but the image of the lifeless fur ball covered in snow tore at his heart. The river was near enough to be heard. The water flowed fresh and heavy from the mountain, so he was confident it would be safe to drink. He felt like he was wrapped in a fever, making it hard to handle the bright snow reflecting in his eyes. The journey to the river would have been effortless and over in a moment in normal circumstances, but since he had to crawl for most of the way, it took him a solid ten minutes.
The water was cold, and it stung as he swallowed, but he could feel the relief it had to offer all the same. After a long drink, he rolled onto the bank and panted. He had no idea how he was still alive, but he wasn’t naive enough to ignore how dwindling that life was. He struggled to his feet, using a stick he found nearby and got to retrieving his O'jin friend. While he waddled, he took in the surroundings, and tried to make peace with the fact that this place might make his grave. He wondered what the old crank would say now.
"He'd probably laugh at me" he muttered to himself. Then he thought about it, and realised he would have laughed at himself too. How could he have been so stupid. He didn't even tell the innkeeper. Nobody in the world knew where he was, or that he was in trouble, and it was his own fault. He realised it wasn't just him that he had killed, it was Uundah too. His cautious friend had warned against trusting Taymon, but he didn’t listen. A tear welled in his eye as he felt sorry for himself, and slumped onto the ground next to Uundah.
The little creature's body was cold and stiff, and the blood on the back of his head had dried into a sticky clot. Putting his hands on his friend, he searched for a sign of life, but got no results. He then hunched over his familiar, and started to sob. His stomach twisted every time his chest heaved, but he suffered through it under the assumption it was all too deserved. That's when he felt the pressure coming from below. He sat in a hurry, and checked his friend over again. The subtle pressure persisted, so he focused on it. It wasn’t so much a physical pressure, more an ethereal one, and that realisation had his heart racing.
"Uundah, you ugly bastard. Wake up, I know you’re faking it" he begged through snotty tears.
The response came soon after. It wasn’t a noise or a movement, but a familiar push against the Daions within him. Uundah was communicating with him in the same way he often did, but it was weak. It was the same sensation he had felt the night before, after first seeing the O'jin on the ground. Uundah was telling him that he was okay.
Another pressure followed, and Murphy knew this one well.
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'Hungry'.
His sob died to a sniffle, and he looked at his partially deceased friend with confusion.
'Hungry'. the message came again.
Murphy was hungry too, but all of their food had been stolen. Besides that, he strongly doubted his friend had the capacity to swallow. His body was undeniably dead, regardless of whatever was going on.
Uundah continued to repeat his message, but its strength eased with each expression. Murphy searched his mind desperately. Uundah was fading, but he was trying to tell the idiot Warlock something. Then the answer to the obvious request dawned on him. The first day he met Uundah, the old medicine woman in the town had told him exactly what he needed to do. Not directly, but she told him that Uundah would live off of his magic. The exchange never occurred to him, since he never had to directly facilitate anything of the sort. That and the little creature's ravenous appetite for any food he could fit in his snout, had Murphy complacently ignoring the reality of it.
He placed his hands on Uundah, and began to empower him. At first it seemed pointless. He felt his magic pass right through the little body, but soon enough he felt a resistance. He focused, and directed his current into the resistive core of Uundah’s chest. The task was challenging, he fought against whatever pushed back, and felt the gratitude of his little friend echo through him. After what had to be a full five minutes, the resistance gave way. In that moment he was more connected to Uundah than he had ever been. He could sense his friend at the core of the carcass his hands sat upon, and he knew they were different, but one in the same. He saw himself through Uundah’s thoughts, and shrunk at the adoration. Without his knowledge, Uundah saw the same, and felt the same sense of devotion.
He ironed his resolve, and determined himself to saving his familiar at any cost. Since he had pushed through whatever force fought against him, he felt his power flow easily into Uundah’s core, so he pushed harder. He continued to strain himself, and ignored the pain in his body. His muscles all over started to numb, and his extremities grew colder than the winter air, but he didn’t stop. He stayed slumped in the dirt until he had nothing left to give. He felt his power stop flowing, and struggled not to hurl what was left in his gut onto the O'jin. The burrow spun around him, but he insisted on checking on his friend. His request to himself was promptly denied, when he turned his head to look down, and fell forward, flat on his face. He rolled to his side, and his blurry vision took in the sight of Uundah pulling himself from what would have been his grave. The last thing he saw before drifting once again into unconsciousness, was two purple orbs, and some grey and black fur.
~~
The taste of cold air and warm metal rushed over his tongue, as he filled his lungs in a panic. His eyes shot open, and the bright light blinded him. Scurrying back, disoriented, he saw flashes of memory flood his mind's eye. Taymon the rogue, and his dastardly betrayal. Then Uundah, lying in the snow. Followed by an overwhelming bliss, that turned into an overwhelming misery just as fast. He remembered screaming, and little clawed fingers digging through his belly. Most of all, he remembered seeing Uundah. With that, he knew where he was. He grabbed his gut in a haste to stop the bleeding, but his hand met something that wasn't his flesh. Looking down his chest, he could see he wasn't wearing the remains of his tattered tunic anymore, and his gut was wrapped in leaves. He was laying on his back, which made looking at his wound awkward, so he repositioned himself against the burrow wall. The leaf covering on his belly was thick, and seemingly well done. Lifting it, he expected to see a horrific sight, but was surprised to find himself stitched. The look of it still made him nauseous, which in turn made him ache like a man that had been shot in the stomach.
"Now how did that get there" he said to himself with a scratchy and dry throat.
"Good, you're awake" a deep voice spoke from next to him.
He whirled his head to the side, prompting another immediate wave of nausea.
Uundah was standing at the hole in the wall, with a large and dead hare slung over his shoulder. "I was worried you were going to sleep another day" he said, with a creepy little smirk.