She awoke with a smile and a laugh. She had never seen a Bottemar so young and green. Her supporter would have been much cuter not for the barnacles that made him so rough. Cir thought she was laughing at him; he looked down at the slime. She could see the unhappiness in his eyes, and she was sorry for laughing. She asked him why he was so sad but Cir would not say.
She asked Cir if there was anything she do; Cir replied that he knew of nothing that would work. She gripped Cir by his wing fins and started to ascend. (As a Fliar Cir had tried this to an old Bottemar – pulling her out of the ooze. All he had succeeded in doing was pulling off her fins. eventually, they grew back.) She raised him waist-high, but her hands slipped. With the loss of Cir’s weight, she was thrown into a new warp – back toward the ooze.
Cir watched her being flung into the blue sky. As he watched her fall back toward the green, he was already swimming toward her. (His strength from flying had not been wasted; it made him a fast swimmer.) In the moments that he swam toward her, he found hope in his uncertainty. Who was she? Why didn’t he start to flap his fins or even try to pretend to once above the surface? Cir prayed that she (whatever her name was) had not overstrained her wings and that she would not be hurt from the fall. Even though she seemed to be unlike Cir, for the first time he prayed that this Fliar might be his. He had a feeling that she was his equal and complement. There was a terrible splash.