Sprinkle the body with water from the pool.

Ottílde looked around wildly. “Who’s there?” she called. The voice had slid into her mind, distinct as a knife into warm bread.

If you don’t preserve the body now, it will spoil , it replied. She knelt up and twisted around, scanning the oasis for the source of the voice, but saw only sand and rock. With gasps of pain, Ottílde got to her feet and went to retrieve her water bottle. She limped back to the pool and filled it with water before tipping the container over the carcass.

That should keep it for a few days. Enough time for you to recover and smoke the rest . Ottílde jumped and whirled, but nothing new presented itself.

“Please, where are you?”

Get into the pool first. You need to soak your wounds or they’ll fester.

Ottílde wrinkled her face in a frown and argued, “I don’t want to contaminate the water.” She bent to pick up her knife.

You won’t , the voice said, It is self-purifying .

“How do you know that?” she asked as she twitched her eyes back and forth.

Because I have lived in this place for quite some time. Ottílde gripped her knife tighter as a pair of large, sandy-blonde ears poked from behind one of the smaller boulders that ringed the pool. They were closely followed by black, slanted eyes set above a delicate muzzle. The rest of the body appeared and settled into a prim pose on the rock, bottle-brush tail tucked around tiny paws.

Ottílde stared at the fennec. She blinked several times, unable to think of anything to say. Are you going to follow my suggestion about getting into the pool?

“You’re a fennec,” Ottílde said to the fox. Very observant of you, the little creature drawled. Now get into the water.

Still bewildered, she nevertheless kicked off her sandals and was about to remove her shirt when she glanced again at the fox. The fennec regarded her impassively with eyes that glinted like twin puddles of ink. Feeling very foolish, Ottílde stripped off her shirt, hissing in pain as she moved her shoulder. She looked at the once fine blue fabric. The entire back of the garment was stained red and hung in strips. She felt lightheaded as she saw the damage and imagined what her back and shoulder must look like.

I won’t lie, the fennec said. You look as bad as that rag you’re holding. Ottílde tried to touch the claw marks, but froze as sharp slices of agony went through her. Probably not the best idea, the fox observed. She gave him a withering look and then removed her pants. Naked, she stepped into the water and sank into its cool arms. The pain dissolved as her wounds were sluiced with the sweet liquid.

A red cloud formed all around her until she sat surrounded by bloody water. “Are you sure this water isn’t ruined now?”

Wouldn’t I be foolish if I urged you to get in there and destroy my own water supply, he quipped. Stay in there for a bit and let the water do its work.

Ottílde let herself recline until she floated. Her short stature allowed her to lay full length in the pool without touching any of the sides. Warmed by her body heat, the pool soon felt like a comfortable lap.

You can probably get out now. Ottílde jerked upright and stared into the pointed face on the lip of the pool. She hadn’t even realized that she had dozed off.

Look at the water.