Otter Creek be Bob Ross and paint me a picture

Each word is like another greedy tooth digging into his skull. The voice was not loud yet it hurt all the same. The light of day only further accented the throbbing hidden behind his forehead. No. He answered weakly but honest all the same. He's never stepped a single paw into this place as far as he knew. Yet he had woke up here. On the creek bed with a face full of water.

The voice got closer, louder and the throbbing in his head showed no signs of welcoming the stranger's closeness. Outlander would have lashed out for such closeness before but he was too weak. Even instinct told him he would lose against the frosted male.

Peach eyes squeezed shut briefly, a heaving sigh escaped him as he forced himself to open his eyes again. I couldn't tell you but good Gods my head... He groaned before looking over to the male. You wouldn't happen to know something to help, would you? Anything to ease the pain.