He had not realized just how uncomfortable being stuck in Iromar had been until he had finally broken free from its borders. The entire time, he had felt like a burden upon his son and daughter, and the ghost of his mother had constantly hounded him about the mists like a snickering banshee. He had practically heard her laughter in the early mornings, a quiet reminder that he had done so poorly to maintain his composure in the face of a real challenge. So, it had hardly been surprising that he felt several times lighter as he left the marshes; he moved stiffly for some time, his limb hardly capable of its former feats it seemed. Still, it felt so freeing. At least, while he was gone, Praetor could enjoy his own time and Vesper would not need to tend to him. In a way, things would almost be normal for them again. Plus, he'd be able to think. Thinking alone was something he had seemingly taken for granted in Glorall, or so he had fast come to discover.

Initially, he had felt uncomfortable as he plodded along through the twisted maze of the crags. After all, he had to accept his title of a fallen king and it, well, it was a rather heavy thing to wear after having worn a crown for so long. Eventually, however, he had fallen into a routine much more comfortable. As he moved along, he would pause every so often to sniff at the rocks and learn something new of the environment or drink from the melted snow that pooled at the bottom of the crags. It went on for what seemed like hours, the perfect opportunity to better understand the apparent new limits that his body had acquired. Whatever had been done to his leg frustrated him endlessly. Though externally, it appeared as normal (save for several lines of fur that had yet to grow back), he could feel an unshakable stiffness and ache whenever he exerted the muscle. If he had not stopped so often through the crags, he might have already have reached his limit. For now, however, it only sought to agitated him.

Finally, however, he took the opportunity to rest. Overhead, large boulders cast deep, long shadows across the crag's floor. He had crept within one of the shadows, laying across his belly with his side pressed up against the cool stone - his leg, too, had been tucked in beside him, the former wound now cooled. When he had begun to feel the inflammation go down, he had taken the opportunity to rest, his eyes closed as he nestled his muzzle into his paws.

His rest, however, came to a rather startling stop. Distantly, he might have heard the slapping of paws or the shuffling of a rabbit and yet, he had been completely content to sleep through it. It was then, however, that a snarl of pain ripped across the stone and awoke him with a startled growl of his own. He lurched awake instinctively, pushing himself up from his former position in a split second as his eyes desperately sought out the apparent intruder. Old habits died hard, it seemed, for his tail had instinctively arched in dominance, his lips peeled back ever so slightly. It was only when he sighted the creature that he relaxed (if only a little.) Not too far away, a woman had apparently found herself in quite a predicament. He could see, even from where he stood, that the boulder had shifted, her paw extended into its gullet. Not only that, but he could smell the bitterness of old blood and lymph. It made him recoil at first but finally, he approached with caution.

It did not take him long to arrive at her location, having approached from the shadows to her right. He moved with deliberate steps to inform her of his position before he paused some several feet away, taking a moment to inspect her predicament thoroughly. Finally, he turned entirely to her, finding her eyes - his brows had instantly furrowed at the sight. They seemed... most unusual. It was not the colour that had thrown him off but rather the intensity, something he could not place entirely. For now, however, he had to try to ignore it. He did his best to compose his features but, well, he had found that to be more difficult of late.

"You've gotten yourself into a rough state," he observed, raising a brow towards her entrapped paw, "you might as well accept my help, don't you think?"

Sure, he might not have looked like the best candidate - tall, a bit too skinny and weather worn from the verge of torment and failure - but he seemed to be her only option. For as far as his ear could hear, there appeared to be not a single other wolf. Still, it wouldn't be easy. In fact, he imagined she might need to prepare herself for some more pain.