The haggard, wrecked Handy forced himself forward, crawling on the floor back into the holding compartment. He had one chance, and he couldn’t afford to waste it. It took him a while to process that the bat pony had fucking drank his blood. The things were God-damn pony vampires! He needed to be helped, and fast! The griffons aside, he didn’t want to be at the mercy of a pack of those creatures. His vision was blurring dangerously, and his head was ruining his concentration. He needed sleep so very badly, but he was stubbornly forcing his way through the fog of consciousness.