Mother had fixed him, and though he puffed and creaked, he felt on top of the world. And yet, something made him feel fragile too, like a glass shoe. One wrong move, one trip, and he'd shatter into a thousand pieces, Raining down like confetti on the ground. He lived for the thrill though, or rather, now that he knew there was someone in his life that would pull him above the crashing of the waves. His mother was a genius, wasn't she, playing around with those herbs like a professional card-player? How he wished to be like her, crawl into her skin to see just what knowledge she had stored in that brain of hers. No wonder his father had fallen flat on his face for her; she was wonderful, beautiful and smart.

A howl reached him, waving his ears into a flutter and he wondered then if he could fly if he twirled them hard enough. He blinked his big eyes, glossy like that of a doll, before deciding he must come to this wolf's aid. It was what his mother would have done; that sexy woman that had birthed him and his sister. His growing form was carried through to the Redwood Forest, one he had explored already but one that held a special place in his heart. The crimson was comforting, like a wee blanket falling over him in the most gentle of ways. And there he said; a growing boy, presumably half his own age, waiting for a savior. Well, he had to wait no longer! His aiding paw had come!

What has happened, little, mixed bird? Yes, that was the best way to describe what he saw. A wounded bird, perhaps with a broken wing. He could flee no more, and his helplessness aroused the young boy.

He nodded and nodded, feeling like a drowsy pirate at sea. While mother had not done this particular procedure right before his eyes, he knew enough to help - or so he thought. As the bird explained, he could not keep his eyes off the other's lips. They were strangely hypnotic, the way the danced the boy's concerns and troubles. Sirio smiled then. It's like you've gone prancing in rose bushes, but have no fear. I'm sure my paws still work fine, and together we'll get that nasty thorn out of your way. He reassured. While his first thought went to cleaning, he presumed it was better to first get the mangy thing out first. With his teeth? That didn't seem very hygienic, but it would have to suffice.

Though he needed something to cover the wound so they could walk to water. It had to be cleaned, somehow, and salty water would, perhaps, do just the trick. And when that was over, he could wrap it again. Those sticky cobwebs would do - there were plenty in bushes and against trees. A stick to apply it - just magnificent. Firstly, little bird, I'll try and get the mangy thing out from there. I'll carry you to water if I must, so we can get it cleaned. Will you let me wrap it in cobwebs before and after your bath? He explained, already looking around for a sturdy stick to help him with this "operation".

Sirio found weakness quite attractive. It made him feel all whimsy and dizzy, as if he was trying to swim in a storm. Just two clouds meeting, just the littlest bits of electricity, could sent a strike to his heart - setting him ablaze in open ocean. It would get worse with age, that much was for certain. Roses were magnificent too, in his humble opinion. What was the sin of trying to become one of those crimson flowers? Sure, the journey hurt, but beauty was pain - especially to those around you. Still, Sirio smiled a toothy smile, readying himself for whatever was to come.

Bobbin, Robin - it's like water and rain. He grinned. Soon though, his bird-like friend made a move that might now have been the best one to make. A dreamy gaze was cast upon the hurting face of his friend as he moved closer. May I? He asked, sitting down so he could later scoop up the talons of the fallen bird.

He peered at the swollen talen as if inspecting a meal that might or might not be poisoned. He decided not to worry, believing it was just the body somehow battling the bad things that came with something entering it. Surely it wasn't good, but at least his bird would not die of it. He flashed a toothy smile as an answer, lowering his muzzle to his paw as if he was kissing the hand of a rich lady, clamping his teeth around the small splinter.

When it was settled neatly between his pearly whites, he jerked his head back with a pull. The thorn came with him, forcefully removed from its host. He spat the thing back into the bushes with the hopes that some would be smarter than his Robin bird and not go walking where they must not. He kissed away the blood, cleaning the wound somewhat, before he pulled away. Let me find some good spider homes for you. Don't get it all dirty, alright?

Even with the thorn still stuck between his teeth did the little Drakru chuckle like a choking hyena. He did not know why he found the fallen bird so hilarious, but he assumed it had something to do with his grumpiness. And, seeing that it came from a tiny thorn, it was even more humorous to the shadow follower. His bright eyes lit up when the other apologized, chuckling a bit after. Sane he wasn't, but the little Robin could not blame him for it. The clock had not gotten him into this mess.

It would've hurt more if I had done it like a snail. He hated those slimy creatures, often referring to them whenever something took long. Never did he have to apply it to his Shadow friend though, they were always completely in sync. That's strange - your heart is supposed to pound in your chest. Sirio joked, lifting to pick up the stick he had been eyeing like a hawk and ran it through the bushes. When he returned with a cotton candy like treat of sticky thread, he gave another look of "may I?".