The boy crouches adjacent to the fallen deity, not making any more remarks. Somehow he doesnât feel like saying anything, especially anything mean to the injured guy. It wouldnât be nice.Â
Rummaging his pockets, it takes him a solid minute to find what he was looking for. And when he finally found it, he scoots closer to Bulu. He couldâve walked, wouldâve been easier. But he remains in his crouching position, inching slowly (awkwardly) towards him with hands out. A plaster, he puts over one of the most apparent gash he could find, which happens to be somewhere on his arm.