Sharkbait would be lying if he said that he didn't find this moment–incredibly validating. Skritch, the greedy Captain who had abused him throughout his youth, was now lying in his hospital bed. Or… Kind of. This temporary settlement in L'Hatzif was a far cry from the domes in the ocean that were the Sea-Cucumbers original home…

But lately, more and more, it felt as though they might never make it back. The nursing cave had been set aside in the corner of a particularly flora-filled cavern. Bright mushrooms grew from all of the walls, creating a sort-of spongy layer of softness to the hard interior. They glowed brightly, which wasn't particularly useful for sleep. But as far as Sharkbait could tell, by cutting off a blue-one and using the sap as poultice for a wound, they had healing properties.

The two beds were roughly made, using the dark logs of the L'Hatzif redwoods, while the blankets were more ornate–picked up from native traders. While Skritch was asleep, he seemed far more peaceful than he ever had in his life: For once he was quiet, instead of barking orders, and it even seemed that his perpetual frown faded into some soft dream.

But Sharkbait always knew when their Captain had woken up, because… "Ow!" That's when the whining would start. "My leg hurts so much, don't you have anything for it?" Skritch complained, his golden eyes staring around the room in desperation. "I do," Sharkbait answered, and he couldn't help but feel proud to stand over the Captain, for once. Although Skritch was a runt of the litter if you'd ever seen one, as a tsabhua his natural height was still well over that of a belemoid, and it was something that the shaman had come to hate.

When Sharkbait was a pup, he'd gotten his name for, well–being attacked by sharks. He'd fought hard to forage for the tribe, but Skritch had been too stingy to buy him any medical supplies. Sharkbait had been forced to wrap his own wounds with kelp, and later on, travel to faraway lands just to learn from a real doctor. But now, the tables had turned–Skritch had come back from a thieving mission, wobbling on a hurt leg, and Sharkbait was the doctor that he'd said the tribe didn't need.

Far from them, hundreds of miles away, something was stirring in the deep waters of the abyss. A giant leviathan opened her eyes and roared out into the endless darkness. Her mind-link with the Captain–and in fact, with the whole colony–was strong, enough that she could feel their pain–and their displacement, now far from her. "He might be a fool," she shot the words into Sharkbait's head, "But save him–and soon, I'll give you a better leader." And Sharkbait nodded, because he understood the order of Zharynth'kai, their researcher. And because he was never going to neglect Skritch, not even when the Captain had done it to him.

"Yeah," he said gently, "I have something we can do for your leg." He sliced off another blue mushroom, and rushed over to the crying white tsabhua to get to work. "It really hurts," the Captain cried, tears forming in his eyes as Sharkbait squished the blue goo together between his paws, then applied it liberally. Despite the flora softening the noise, some echoes still crossed through the caves--this time, that of pups playing in the nusery. "We're lucky to be in L'Hatzif," Sharkbait offered with a deep sigh. "The mushrooms, fruit, and giant plants heal better than anything in the ocean."

Skritch gave a sore moan, unhappy to imagine abandoning their original home. "You're just like Shenzi," he complained, "Running off after that--who was it? Van Callis." The shaman shrugged a bit, thinking that well--dry land wasn't so bad. Not that you could call this rainforest dry, but they'd moved from living in the depths of the darkness to somewhere vibrant and teeming with life. "You've found quite a few treasures," he pointed out, gently setting up the injured leg with a down-stuffed pillow. "And that's exactly how I got hurt, too," the Captain winced.