The fox slid the jade token back into its pouch and, with a flick of its will, drew the wine jars out instead. One by one, they floated gently through the air before settling onto the table with soft, muted thuds.
"Here," the fox said, stepping aside. "That's all the wine. Knock yourself out."
The lizard shifted, its pouch tucked beneath its body, nostrils flaring as the scent washed over the room. It crept closer, head low, maw brushing against one of the jars.
Then it froze.
Its body coiled.
In the next instant, it **leapt**.
The lizard wrapped itself around the jar midair, wings flaring wide to stabilize as the container shook violently. With a sharp bite, it snapped the seal loose, spat the stopper aside, and the rich scent of spiritual bamboo wine bloomed through the chamber.
It twisted as gravity pulled it down, but landed cleanly—wings spread, claws gripping the jar—without so much as a clatter.
Wine poured freely into its maw.
Gulp after gulp after gulp.
It didn't pause. Didn't breathe. Didn't even blink—only drank.
Finally, it stopped, licking its maw slowly, eyes unfocused as warmth spread through its body.
*That taste… so good.*
*Wine is delicious.*
The fox had been standing there the entire time, staring in silence.
After a moment, it spoke dryly.
"…I thought I'd need to open it and pour it into a bowl or something."
It glanced at the rapidly emptying jar, then back at the lizard.
"But it looks like you've got that handled just fine."
The room remained sealed and quiet, formations humming softly as the scent of wine lingered in the air—marking the first truly peaceful moment since the bloodshed outside.
The fox shook its head and waved a paw dismissively.
"Go on. Keep doing what you're doing," it said. "I need to clean myself up anyway."
Its ears flicked back in mild irritation as it added, "You *reek*. Blood, wine, corpse… it's all mixed together. Disgusting."
Without waiting for a response, the fox turned and walked away.
The lizard didn't even glance in its direction—still clinging to the jar, still drinking, utterly absorbed in the taste as if nothing else in the world mattered.
At the far side of the room, the fox stopped beside a recessed stone basin. Wisps of **steaming water** rose gently from it, the surface shimmering with faint runes that kept the temperature perfectly balanced.
"Good," the fox muttered. "At least they thought of this."
It stepped closer, letting the steam curl through its fur, already feeling the grime and exhaustion of the past days beginning to loosen.
Behind it, the soft sounds of steady gulping continued, punctuated only by the occasional satisfied lick of the lizard's maw—two very different kinds of recovery unfolding in the same sealed room.
Without another word, the fox simply **leapt** into the steaming basin—pouch and all.
Water splashed softly over the stone rim as its body submerged, only its head remaining above the surface. The runes flared briefly, adjusting the heat and cleansing flow to accommodate it, and the water immediately began washing away dried blood, dust, and lingering malice.
The fox let out a slow breath, ears drooping just a little.
"…Ah," it muttered. "That feels nice."
Steam curled around its muzzle as the tension finally seeped out of its limbs. The water carried away the stench it had complained about, leaving only the faint, clean scent of spirit-infused mist.
Across the room, the lizard continued drinking, oblivious—while the fox, half-submerged and finally still, allowed itself a rare moment of comfort.
Steam drifted lazily across the chamber, curling around the fox's ears as it sank a little deeper into the basin. The formations etched into the stone hummed softly, the water subtly shimmering as it stripped away lingering traces of blood, battle intent, and foreign qi.
The fox closed its eyes.
For the first time since the ambush, nothing pressed against its spiritual sense—no killing intent, no hidden gazes, no instability from the lizard's condition threatening to spiral out of control.
Just quiet.
"…I forgot how long it's been since I last used one of these," the fox muttered, voice low and relaxed. "A proper cleansing pool, layered with formations… hm. At least the price wasn't a complete scam."
A faint sloshing sound echoed from the other side of the room.
The fox cracked one eye open and glanced sideways.
The lizard had finished one jar.
It stood over the empty container, tongue flicking out as it scraped the last lingering droplets from the rim. Its golden eyes—still unfocused, still hazy—were brighter than before, pupils faintly contracting and expanding as if testing the world again.
Without hesitation, it dragged another jar closer.
*Clink.*
The fox's ear twitched.
"…You're not even pacing yourself," it said dryly.
The lizard didn't respond.
It bit down, twisted, and tore the seal free with practiced ease. Wine sloshed as it tilted the jar, swallowing deeply. A faint heat rippled through its body this time—barely visible steam rising from its scales as the spiritual bamboo wine coursed through it, nourishing flesh, soothing damaged channels, feeding the slow recovery of its eyes.
The fox watched quietly.
*Good.*
*The absorption rate's improving.*
It leaned back again, eyes half-lidded.
"At least you have good taste," it added. "That wine's wasted on most humans anyway. Their bodies can't process it properly—too mild for beasts, too rich for mortals. You're about the only thing in this room that can drink it straight like that without exploding."
The lizard paused mid-drink.
Its tongue flicked once, then twice.
"…It's warm," it said finally, voice low and simple. "Inside."
The fox huffed softly, something like amusement slipping through.
"That's the bamboo marrow reacting to your body. It won't heal your eyes overnight, but—"
Its gaze sharpened slightly.
"—keep this up, and you won't need long."
Another quiet moment passed.
Water lapped gently against stone. Wine continued to pour. Steam and scent mingled—clean warmth on one side of the room, rich sweetness on the other.
Eventually, the fox spoke again, tone calmer than before.
"We'll stay here a few days. Let you stabilize properly."
A pause.
"After that… we'll decide where to go next."
The lizard didn't answer.
It didn't need to.
It simply drank, curled protectively around the jar, body relaxing bit by bit—instinct satisfied, pain dulled, recovery finally underway—while the fox rested in the water, watchful even in comfort, knowing this fragile lull wouldn't last forever.
For now, though—
Rivermarch slept.
And behind layers of formations and illusion, two unlikely allies recovered in silence.