Thiel groaned, his nose and throat raw, burning like he'd inhaled fire. His whole body felt heavy, and as he tried to lift his head, his muscles protested, pain lancing through him. Dimly, he heard voices—

"—iel. Thiel. Thiel!" It was Amalthea, her voice shaking as she called his name. "Thiel, say something!"

"Breathe," Oberon reminded her, butting her gently with his armored head. 

Maggie trickled water into Thiel's mouth using an old chanfron Fetch had found as Thiel's party-mates watched anxiously. Fetch herself had been the one to rip the crown from his head; Oberon had fallen upon it instantly, stomping the soft metal until it was unrecognizable, the pearls ground to dust beneath his hooves that dissolved almost instantly in the shallow water. 

"Thiel, can you hear us?" Amalthea pressed. He felt something cool touch his face, peeling back one eyelid; Fei's light hurt, and he flinched away from Maggie, forcing it to release his eyelid. "Thiel!"

Thiel tried to speak, his tongue thick and heavy in his mouth. "I hear you," he croaked, or attempted to.

"Thiel!" Amalthea leaned closer, nudging his cheek with her nose. "Come on, Thiel, wake up."

Oberon snorted, glaring at Maggie. The Hand didn't seem to take the hint. "Water," Oberon snapped; that got its attention, whisking back to the dented chanfron to give Thiel more water.

"Get back," he ordered Fei. Sure now that he wouldn't be blinded even by Fei's gentle light, Thiel blinked, feeling his eyelids stick together. 

"Thiel!" Amalthea's voice was filled with relief. "How are you feeling?"

He raised his head, wincing. "Like Oberon danced on me," he rasped. "What happened?"

Amalthea coaxed him to roll onto his belly, rather than his side. He shivered as his wet coat was suddenly exposed to the air; looking down, he could see that someone had shoved the remains of the cushioned chest interior under his head to keep his nose out of the water. As she described what had happened, his shivering became trembling. He couldn't remember what he had seen, only—

Fear. Pain. The screaming of a thousand voices, a tearing sensation as he screamed, too. 

Oberon swore roundly, interrupting Thiel's recollections. They turned to him, staring. Then their confusion and alarm turned to shock, as they stared at Thiel's packs, clearly removed while he was unconscious.

They glittered in Fei's light, covered in tiny fragments of shimmering crystal. 

"Seriously?" That was all Thiel could say. First the cursed crown, and now this? "I'm going to stand out like a peacock in the mud!"