The world begins to seep back into the consciousness of the stallion, traveling like the slow creep of sunlight as it lifts to spill over the night-riddled land every dawn. As eyelids flutter light begins to dance along the amber iris of Coris, pupils dilating then contracting hastily.

A low groan of despair eases from the lungs of the ravaged unicorn body. The sound elicits a scream from Venati as the falcon hops closer to the felled beast which he has never seen lay before. That avian cry seems to register something within the skull of the tanner, for his eyes sharpen, amber spinning through the haze of grey that is death to find the steel body of the bird. Something like a smile breaks the cracked lips of the stallion, and all at once he feels relief flood his system like a drug; Venati's relief.

Another voice floats in the desert air - why is it so hot Coris wonders unhappily - and the sound is like a muffled droll trying to break through the din of his mind. The words eventually wiggle against the front of his skull, fuzzy, like caterpillars, but something he knows. He grabs at them hungrily, eager to understand his situation.

The lift in tone suggests a question. Exactly what Coris can't seem to remember, and he spends a moment puzzling over what it was she asked. It feels as if it bounces between both of his ears, and each time it strikes one it becomes more clear, more solid, more real. Your name?
Name, name, name. He had a name, didn't he?

"C-c-c" he begins, his tongue feeling like an odd weight in his mouth, swollen with thirst and raw with infection. "Co-RIS!" As he finally got a grip on his name the sensation of a searing horn thrusting into the meat of his body cut his mild tones into a shrieking wail that began with the tail end of his name. Venati screamed in similar agony, taking to the skies in a flurry of hasty feathers, eyes sharp with worry and pain as he threw terrible insults down at Onni from above.

A tingling sensation crawled up the spine of the unicorn and washed his mind in a numbing effect. It made him shudder as he lay, extinguishing all previous urge he'd had to lift his head and try to rise. He remained content to keep his head pressed to the flat of the sand and the red brick, each heavy breath sending the dragon's dust to spin and stir by his nose - a great thing to see compared to the shallow wheezing just minutes before.

His body kicked, weakly, in response to the shearing of dead and rotted skin, but he had not the strength to pose much resistance. Dimly Coris' mind drifted with thoughts if he was being skinned alive. It would be a fitting end to one such as he.

He wished to return to sleep and his eyes grew heavy with the want, but Venati above shouted for his attention and he could only be so kind as to give the furious bird what it wanted.