Hideaway Strath Moon, guide me

Phox still wasn't conscious. His body was limp, even as his son stood over him, likely berating him for the very same reasons Phox had berated Towhee earlier that day. But Phox couldn't help himself, right? He'd been unable to be stuck in this place any longer. Towhee was his rock, no matter how you looked at it, and being away from her was a form of torture. The only time he'd ever been apart from her had nearly killed him, back before the war, and now she had left him.

It was Figment's scream that woke him, barely, and Phox groaned as he attempted to move himself in some meaningful way. He wasn't dead--far from it--but it wasn't going to be an easy couple of weeks from here on out. Fig's screaming certainly wasn't helping his headache, either. Fig, he managed, unable to sign properly, so using only his words. Too loud.