Zinzie looked slightly offended. "I'll have you know that I was [i]born[/i] on the open road. I've traveled thousands of miles on my own two feet since I was a tot. True, I'm not in the best of shape now..." He looked down at himself, malnourished, infected, and bleeding. "But given some rest and proper food, I think I could bounce back. I'm certainly not [i]dead[/i]." 

Zinzie was fairly lively given his condition. He liked to think that he could be back on his feet and traveling home in a mere two days, but it didn't look the case. He was frail from the months of living off bugs and rotten bread. He was sore with red, angry wounds and infection. He was dirty, unkempt, unprepared, and penniless. Deep down, he knew he couldn't get himself out of this. He needed help, whether he wanted to admit it or not. He needed money, shelter, food, clothing, and every basic need of a human being. Perhaps if he stuck with these two, and went with them to this....Well of Wishes, real or not, they could help him get back on his feet. If the well was real, then he could maybe just wish himself back home. If not, then perhaps by then, he would be well enough to make the journey on his own.