Rey's speed is more than enough: she might not be out of breath by the time they reach the colony, but the vibrant creature she saved sure is. Her limp is more pronounced as she bleeds steadily from the cuts, scratches, and claw marks down her sides; the sand pelting her injuries does her no favors, every grain irritating her wounds. She'll need to find somewhere private to wash them out, she decides -- not just for her health, but because she cannot stand the thought of being so bedraggled. It'd be easier if she shifted into her upright guise, but doing that now would not only reveal her to her scarred rescuer, but might also trap some of the particles in her wounds. A shifting body is a wondrous thing, but something that must be treated with care.

Reaching the door well after her companion, she struggles to remain standing, gasping as she waits for the door to open -- or for someone to open it for her.