She had been so certain that she was about to die. Although it still felt like she might for as Magnus chased off her attackers the numbness brought on by adrenaline began to fade. In it's wake came the crashing waves of furious pain. She didn't even try to turn her neck and stretch the muscles around her shoulders. It felt like the skin where Jaidah had snatched her had ripped down, which it had and left a decently deep gash that oozed blood. Not counting the bite marks at the base of her tail or the way the female had grabbed her scruff and tore into it like a t-bone steak. And her foot hurt too where Malacath had dragged her out of the fray.

When Magnus finally came back to check on her Fjallraven was shuddering as if she was on death's door, feeling faint from the blood loss and the combined weight of the pain. She whimpered for a moment before noticing her hooded imprint. The moment he came close enough she jolted to her feet and pressed her small muzzle into his chest; she attempted to wag her tail only to find that it sent lances of pain up her backside. "Magnus I thought they were gonna eat me and then you, but you are okay! Thank you, thank you! You saved me!" Now she arches her head up, despite the way she flinches at the pain it causes, and licks his bottom jaw fervently, not at all prudish. Magnus wasn't mean - he had saved her. He was like Jericho - he was a savior.

Her small burst of enthusiasm lapses pretty quickly and she visibly flags, her head dropping low as another whine escapes her maw. When Magnus mentions taking her back to Glorall she is eager, though even that is tempered with pain and faintness and she pushes against his side on the the way there for comfort. He was so big compared to her, so strong and fast and strong, and did she mention strong? She felt safe with him and honestly she didn't want to go home just yet if it meant being away from Magnus. He had swooped in like some hero to save the day and in this moment the only thing keeping her calm was his presence and their bond.

By the time they began to reach the salty borders of Glorall her steps had become labored, each tiny paw dragging the soil and her body trembled at the effort to move. All she wanted to do was sleep and forget about the pain, but each time she tripped over herself she'd jerk upright and press her shoulder - wounded or no - into his ribs to make sure he was still there.