Although mobile and conscious enough to take advantage of Brisa to lean on and guide her, literally, she said nothing the entire trip- drifting in and out of thought and even consciousness, her own sheer willpower and the support it received kept her walking, like some relentless zombie with its mind cast adrift in the dark sea. Once or twice she stumbles, even with the white mare's shelter and comfort. Odd, inconsequential things manage to filter through past her senses with startling clarity, stark piles of outside information she clung to like a raft, desperately, to stay awake.

Brisa's pale stone-smooth hooves sinking into the softly yielding ground, grasses pressed into a perfect track, the faint nearly inconceivable crunch of each step echoing loudly in her skull. The grass screamed, too, but Imonada wasn't completely convinced.

The feel of their bodies together. Brisa's coat velvety and pristine, but her own sour from the dried up sweat of her delirium. It made the corners of her dark, almond-shaped eyes water. She felt disgusting.

The lonesome cooing of rock pigeons, hidden away in their nests, trailing after the duo --no, with them-- like a mournful music panel to accompany the mood, an orchestra at their feet, in tune with their steady performance.

Sparrows flitting among the branches with a flirtatious exuberance, but to Imonada they looked like frantic spiders weaving disjointed, haphazard webs, the silk threads swaying out to her, shining like tiny gemstone rosaries.

I have lost my damned mind.
You made a mistake, and now the Gods punish you.
I should have been looking for Cobras...
How pathetic. An addict that cannot even do what they do best.

For all Imonada knew, it could have been days or weeks- but surely not. She would have been buried by then, cradled in the dirt. Thinner than normal and smaller than Brisa, it should not have been too difficult to shoulder the burden of a wounded companion, but much to Imonada's great relief her new friend finally claims they have arrived, relieving Brisa of her duty and allowing the weight of her own guilt to shed away like old snake skin. With an added bonus of tucking her legs down carefully to lay down again, of course, only this time she consents. With another one of those heavy, breathless sighs of hers, her sides inflating like bellows to accommodate, she blinks at the crown of waterfalls and their floating islands that makes for the tribe's territory. So many, she didn't bother to count- from fat kings that stretched hundreds of meters across, as wide and untouchable as the great whales she'd once glimpsed during a clan migration near the shoreline. Thousands more flooded her vision, some as small as brook-spill, all glittering wildly from within the steppe of trees; silver jewels strewn across jade-green velvet. Each even had their own rainbow!

"Good Gods!"

Her voice is much louder and much clearer than before, that burr more heavily pronounced in the guid. That is when she realizes Brisa is probing her.

"Oh... I'm sorry. I am... okay... for now, but," she states plainly before pausing longer, as if steeling herself for a quick moment, "there is a wee flower my... culture refers tae as Cobra's Tongue. It will help wi' everythin'." Perhaps if she was straightforward and unashamed, it would not be a terribly awkward exchange. "Please. I thenk ye much so," Probably unbeknownst to herself, there is a dimly lit note of pleading in her voice, the subconscious child in her weak and afraid, leaking out.

In the meantime, she looked two nods shy of falling asleep.

~

(OOC: @Brisa No apologizing! *hugs* BTW I am a tad slower on weekdays because of work, but I pick up on the weekends!)