Silver Moraine I'll learn the names of all the termites that eat my wooden teeth.

The laughter didn't last very long. Once the stranger was settled and could hear him, Willow tampered down the feeling and swallowed any further expression; he didn't like the sound of his own laugh, the same way he didn't like the sound of his howling voice, and besides that he wasn't eager to bother his new-found friend beyond whatever she felt right now.
Her commentary earned a small snort and a nod from him, then he coughed and spat again. A suggestion bubbled to the forefront of his mind: I think I'd prefer shade to water right now. Even though the sun might dry them both off, Willow wanted to get the hell away from these pools before one of them drowned (in them, or in the bugs).
Do you know the area? Maybe there's somewhere we could go to hide — somewhere dry, 'cause fuck this place.