"There's always next time."

That was what Fetch told Tenebrae as soon as they were dragged out from the lower parts of the dungeon, brought near the surface but not quite into the Above. Tenebrae, battered and bruised, didn't have the energy to explain why they "didn't want" to leave the dungeon. They figured Fetch would just assume that they didn't want to waste time leaving and coming back again, but something about her gaze told them otherwise.

"Next time," Tenebrae echoed, exhausted gaze landing on their bloodied hooves. It always sent a tingle down their spine, foreboding and ever-so chilling. Little did Fetch know, there would always be a next time for Tenebrae-- or, rather, there never was an end to each time. Their brows furrowed, both in thought and in pain, as discomfort rippled from their wounds.

"Okay, that's it. I'm healing you," the blanche equine said pointedly, using her teeth to grab some of the supplies stuffed into her satchel.

Tenebrae grunted awkwardly, shifting away. "No. Return to your camp and stay there."

Fetch glanced up from her endeavours for a split second, kneeling down as her gaze plunged into Tenebrae's. "Don't be stubborn."

Tenebrae did not reply. Something about Fetch's tone told them that it would be unwise to. Though every fiber of their being told them to push her away, Tenebrae allowed Fetch to wrap their wounds and dab clean water on them, flinching at every touch despite themselves.

This would be a long night...