Oddities of nature

The morning started early for Demaren. The sun filtered in through the fingered leaves of his tree and found his closed eyes. And though he knew he had to get up as early as possible, he was still completely fine with the idea of the sun suddenly losing it's shine.
But it didn't and he got up. Alone on the edge of a thick looking sort of jungle. His tree, he noticed was one of the very last of its kind before the swamp. The trees in the swamp were shorter and had thicker canopies. He couldn't really see past them. There were some bare patches ahead, but he remembered Jeron telling him (the man was full of advice) not to land in them. The parts of the swamp exposed to the sky were the most dangerous parts. Dry on the top, they appear solid, but beneath is where the mucky "sucking mouths" were. You can see a sucking mouth if you're under the safety of the trees, where the sunlight hasn't hardened the first 4 inches or so. No illusions, less danger. One could probably navigate it if you knew it backwards and forwards. Or if you were an animal. Demaren, only a very small part animal, had no sixth sense about the steadiness of land (nor any faith in it), and definitely didn't know the area. So he resolved to a long, possibly endless flight. No trust in swamp trees, if he could help it. Those branches may not hold his weight.
He began with energy to spare, but maintained a steady beat. He knew he would get tired and attempted to waste nothing. The sun had crept over his head and behind him slightly when he realized he was slowly losing altitude. He was tired. His wings ached. He hadn't used them very much for a few weeks, and then over exerted them the past couple of days. So he looked, prayerfully, for something he could rest on. Anything. His eyes grazed the trees and open spots. Trees, trees, dry ground, trees, dry ground, more trees, endless trees, another spot of dry ground. He drifted lower until he could start seeing between even the canopies of the trees. Glimmers of the dangerous water sparkled at him. Dry patches. Trees. Even his eyes were bored.
His attention was alerted when he heard the screams of a girl. His exhaustion was forgotten and the need to protect kicked in. Energy was suddenly at hand and he rushed towards it. But it cut off suddenly, sending panic to some deep spot in Demaren's chest. Then he heard the snorts and baying of another creature. Finally, Demaren saw it. He spotted a creature in a dry patch. It was standing--or rather--stamping in fury. He was making to land beside it when he saw a pale hand disappearing into the water a few feet in front. Demaren switched directions, caught a small draft and dove down.
The animal was shrieking at him, but Demaren focused on the hand (fingers now, actually) as it swiftly sank. He began to pull out of the dive before he reached the fingertips, and reached into the mud before he was too far out. Through the silted slime, his hand easily found a wrist. His other hand found an elbow. And his wings took him and the weight beneath the mud up.
Demaren was intrigued by what he had saved. Obviously a person, probably the same girl he heard scream. Once he was sure he had cleared the trees and was safely in the air (much to the objection of a certain creature) he looked down at his charge.
A person covered in black mud dangled limply. That didn't seem right to him, so Demaren rolled in the air until she (assuming it was the girl) was laying parallel on top of him. He smeared the muck from the face, revealing a girls smooth features. He noted, then, she was not breathing. This was a very concerning feature, and he was unsure how to remedy it. But he made do by rolling again and wrapping his arms around his stomach. Then he made the motion of throwing her, forcing his arms to compress on her stomach. It wasn't pleasant to watch the black liquid spurt out of her mouth, but it was a start and comforting. Slightly. He did the motion once more, but nothing else expelled. So he adjusted her until he was cradling her in his arms. He glanced around hoping to see something he could land on, but still--nothing but treachery in nature.
So, the muddy girl cradled without breath in his arm, he pressed his mouth over hers and breathed into her. He felt her chest expand between his arm and his own chest. He could feel the pulse in her lips. He pulled away to press on her chest with his hand, grateful for the promising heart beat. Again, he pushed air into her lungs. Again. And again. Would she breathe again? Still, he breathed for her. But he began to feel the sickening feeling of failure and loss.
But just as he was giving up, he felt her body convulse, and she coughed violently. He almost dropped her as she coughed up more muddy water. But she was limp again in his arms, easy to maintain a grip on. And the best part was, despite her limp body, her eyes were open and he could feel her breathing.
She gasped for a while, staring at the sky. She swallowed once or twice, blinking in exhaustion. Finally, she rolled her eyes to look at him, breathing still somewhat labored.
Demaren couldn't help it. He smirked at her and said, "Hi."
She blinked at him and nodded. He shifted her into a more comfortable position, pulling her towards him more, allowing her to rest her head and neck against his chest. She suddenly relaxed and almost instantly fell asleep. He glanced down to make sure she was alive, but heard soft breaths.
Breathing. He would appreciate it after that.
Demaren looked around to get his bearings. The animal that had been stomping around her little death trap was gone. Demaren hoped she wouldn't be too angry when she found out. He looked towards the sun, trying to figure the direction had come from. But he wasn't sure how long he'd flown looking for a landing place prior to the rescue, so he didn't really know where it should be. He scanned the sky, begging for something to go off of. Nothing came into view. So he flew higher to look for the nearest border to land not swamp.
He had gone rather high, the air growing colder, and finally saw it. And then he shot off for it. The girl in his arms, though asleep, shivered in the cold wind. Demaren realized what was brisk and cold to him and his accustomed flesh, must be frigid and grueling for normal people. He paused to tug his flight shirt out. He carefully wrapped her in its wind resistant material, and pulled her back to him. Once again, they were off. It was hard to believe he had ever been tired.
But the distance was long, and by the time they actually made it to the safety of solid land, he was exhausted. He flew a bit extra to ensure they were out of any range of the swamp. And then, to be even more safe, he searched for a tree. Finally, he found a small cluster of them and landed beside it, stumbling slightly, only to catch himself on the trunk. Then he slid down the side of the tree and sat mercifully on the ground. It seemed a bad idea to sleep in the safety of the tree with a girl who might wake up before him and perhaps fall to her death. He unfolded his wings and let the girl slip from his arms to the ground beside him, letting her lean into the softness of his feathers between her and tree. Then he rested his head against the bark, folded the other wing over them both, concealing her, and slept.