Blackjack, too, was once in a similar predicament not too long ago, where his paws felt that they would fall off if he dared to take one more step, and the Pitt was the nearest place of shelter. He was content with his decision so far, though for the past few days he was hardly seen around camp, only returning to rest in the grove of treehouses in the lush jungle amidst the arid desert. It was a fine place to live, indeed.

He had spotted the figure on one of his travels back to camp, after a long night of mere curious exploration — a fine break from the high-stakes tension of his usual duties as a bounty hunter. The creature didn't stand out very well between the dunes at first, but as Blackjack neared the Pitt's territory (and consequently whatever this thing before him was), it became much clearer. What lay there, sprawled out pathetically in the sand, was a wolf pup. Now Jackie, admittedly, was not a particularly paternal character, but to leave a child to die in the desert when he had the ability to intervene was low, even for him.

He was in no rush to approach the pup, sauntering over and running a reptilian tongue across his lips as his rich golden gaze examined her, watching her chest rise and fall, just barely. She was alive, thankfully, but she needed assistance. Any. "Hey. Do you hear me?" he asked as he made his way over. She was breathing, sure, but was she conscious still? Would she be able to respond to him?

Now he stood by her, a towering beast next to this helpless thing, and not entirely sure of the next step. Jackie was not obsessive about children, but a rare pang of guilt struck him at the idea of leaving her here alone, a bothersome discomfort in his chest that prompted him to act accordingly. He felt the strap of his waterskin against his broad shoulders more vividly now, and the horned jaguar slid it from his obsidian-black body and swished its contents about a little, determining how much of his water supply he had left in there since he had last filled it. It was getting low, but it wasn't like they were extraordinarily far from the Pitt's camp anyway. Regardless, dehydration was a real killer, especially in a land devoid of moisture. Clean water was the first step to recovery here.

The feline opened his waterskin and reached out a paw to lightly shake the pup, just enough to harmlessly get her attention. He lowered the waterskin towards her face, giving her the opportunity to reach out her neck and drink if she would take it. "Come. Drink," Blackjack said to the pup, his voice soft and as gentle as he could possibly will it to be.

Children had never been a particularly knowledgeable topic for the large dragon that inhabited the sands of the Pitt.  As a drake, he went into a brood about once or twice a year and produced a clutch of eggs that would either hatch or they wouldn't, regarding the environment in which the eggs were laid and how strong the lineage was.  Live-birthing creatures and their strange conceptions were foreign to mountainous reptilian and their live-born children even more so.  He was aware that all of the mammals he contented himself with had once been very small and fuzzy, but did they not shed their skin-and-fur coats once a year?  Were they not consistently itching that one place over their eye where their dead scales would not fall off.

He supposed not.

"It will die without medical attention." Renlys observed, his large head lowered towards the child with the faintest hint of sympathy.  It looked malnourished and underdeveloped, and that spoke nothing of its very apparent lack of scales.  "Should I carry it back?