1Raz was adrift on a warm, black sea. No underground reservoir was large enough to swallow up theworld like the ocean in his dreams did. There was no light above him, not the constellations of glowing mosses overhead, or any of the plants nearby. He could only see the glow of his tail beneath him, immersed in the water, spread-eagle as he floated on the waves.
He controlled his breathing, the waves were tranquil, always tranquil at first. Lapping at the tufts of fur on his cheeks like kisses from his mother. It was always easy to float in the beginning, but then a wave would come that would bob him up and down like a cork, that would force him to adjust his posture just a bit, and then again, a wave, and he would shift too far and lose his center of balance, he would begin to panic, his breathing speeding up, his movements becoming more erratic and flailing. He would screw up and rather than riding atop the wave, it would crash down on him, filling his lungs with seawater, he beat at the waves, drowning.
He gasped and sat up, his eyes well suited to the pitch-black of the shelter, a blanket was draped over him, tangled up in his limbs with the exception of his right leg which was wrapped up in a heavy splint. He coughed and shifted around.
"Eugh, I hate that dream." He murmured to himself, bringing his pa-
His stump, he brought his stump to his forehead. He stared at it for a while, looking over the odd, sterile white bag that had been wrapped around it and fastened to his forearm so it wouldn't come loose.
He felt as if he was going to cry again, but no tears came, instead there was just a gnawing ache inside him.
"Maybe I'm just hungry." He sighed, pulling the blanket off and throwing himself into a sitting position, he thought for a second how he was going to do this, testing the ground with his splinted leg, and then pushing off with his good leg. He was up, holding his arms out for balance.
What proceeded was a hilariously sad half-limp, half-hop, with regular stops in-between to make it to something he could use to support himself against, with every step he made an awkward thump which he was sure could be heard even on the second floor of the shelter, where he assumed the alien's bedroom was.
Eventually, though, he made it to the kitchen, bracing his forearm against the counter and panting, relishing in his small victory. Now he just had to make something.
He looked at his nub again for a long time, then slammed the fist of his good paw against the counter.
He had still buried his face in the crook of his elbow, still staring down into the counter, when the alien came in and worked a slide on the wall besides him. Dim, warm lighting, tailored for the low-light conditions of the underground, gently came on, and while it took a moment for Raz's eyes to adjust, he appreciated the fact he wasn't outright blinded.
"¿ƃuᴉɥʇǝɯos noʎ ǝʞɐɯ oʇ ǝɯ ʇuɐʍ no" The alien said before rubbing its eye with the knuckle of its hand. Raz gave him a dumb stare before he pointed at the fridge, then his mouth, then to Raz again. Raz nodded.
The alien helped Raz back down to the couch, then went to the kitchen to make something quick, bringing him back some cooked eggs, the familiarity of the dish astounded him, but the square of dry, crunchy, tasteless grain was as disarmingly alien as he thought it would be. He tried gnawing on the corner of it, putting up a brave face for the alien that was nice enough to not only save his life, but give him shelter and food.
"sƃƃǝ ɹnoʎ uᴉ ʇsɐoʇ ǝɥʇ dᴉp no ʇɐɥʇ ǝʞᴉl ʇou 'oN" The alien said, showing Raz how he dipped the square into the egg and then ate it. He showed him how to have the rest of the meal, and even a drink, diluting the juice concentrate ration into water, he realized early on to not speak it out, but rather show Raz.
The Skuro kept quiet and nodded attentively, occasionally looking up to study the alien's features, sometimes their eyes would meet, but not for long as Raz's would always dart away.
When they were done, he was feeling much better than he did before.
Maybe I was just hungry…