Heron Lake Plateau i.x : who was only a stranger at home

She needed a bath, pronto. But Quixote insisted she stay put, told her that Raven was on her way. She nodded stiffly, trying not to move her head overly much. Towhee stilled as Quixote began to relay what he knew about the situation. Maybe the impact with Swamp Thing had somehow knocked her upside the head? She didn't see how, though stranger things had happened. She was willing to bet that Swamp Thing had made an escape, with Colt and Niamh hot on her tail now.

"She was a Blackfeather wolf," the mercenary mumbled, reaching up a paw to rub at her temple because it was that bad. With that said, "I don't think I have a concussion or anything, although I'm no expert. I'll let Rave take point on a formal diagnosis. I feel okay, aside from the splitting headache, goddamn..." Her voice trailed off into incoherent muttering.

When Raven arrived, Towhee's nose wrinkled. "Sorry, I apparently fucking shat myself," she moaned to her sister, who hushed her and began checking her over. Towhee sat as still as she could while the caregiver assessed. "I don't feel dizzy or fuzzy or anything," she offered. "Although there's kind of some blank spots. Is that bad?" she quipped very, very wryly.

Totally unconcerned for their comrades in pursuit of the enemy—confident, even, that they'd chase her down and dispatch her as Towhee had intended to do herself—she shot a glance at Quixote as Raven motioned for her to stand. She almost missed it as the medic said, "I'll walk you to the lake, help you wash up. We can stop for some painkillers on the way." But sensing her sister's speech somehow, Towhee faced her again, nodding her assent.

"Let's get this shit show on the road," she joked—again, voice dryer than ever—and began to shuffle along beside her sister, insisting on about a foot of space despite the medic's proffered support. One of them covered in feces was already one too many.

Fade here and/or ship to the archives? Brill thread, people! :D