Wing sighs out a vent. He'd seen them go down under his blades, but in that place nothing seemed right so the fact that they rose again shouldn't be a surprise. He nods, slowly, as if he'd rather not. "It must have been the whole group." And to think he woke them all, made his rescuers face them. "I'm glad you all prevailed. No one was grievously hurt I hope?"

His wings, agitated, stretch tentatively, stiff like his other limbs and stifled from being on his back so long. "You would think so," he frowns, "Unless they don't know about that place yet." Which is a troubling thought on its on.

Wing would mash them both together if he could, so the fact that Drift does it a welcome treat. He looses a chirr of delight and affection into Drift's throat, his hands seeking the little winglets on the grounder's back. It stirs something in him, kindling a light that starts burning away the pall leftover from the cave.

He was going to say something else. Wing's not even really sure what it was, now that something else slips out. "I love you."