Swiftcurrent Creek i'll burn my eyes out before i get out

More words, and the figure is gone. He sucks in a ragged breath, head lowering again so slowly the movement is barely noticeable. It feels like hardly a moment passes before the golden wolf is back; he has no way of realizing that this assumption is wrong, that his perception of time is warped. The other places something green and brown and glistening before him, and immediately he thinks of @Speedy and her herbs. This makes sense to him, at least — though not quite as much as he thinks. He leans forward with another rattling breath, coughing once before he takes the moss in his mouth. It tastes awful (what little he can taste), but the moisture is lovely on his tongue, such a relief he could cry if his eyes didn't ache so much. So he chews slowly, and eventually swallows the offering, leaving the faintest aftertaste of dirt in his mouth.