It had been too long since he had felt the thrill of a fight. The thrum of adrenaline in his ears and the pounding of his heart; it is what he was made to do. Every fiber of his being needed this. He barely hears the she-wolfs reply to his backhanded comment, her light voice causing a white-tipped ear to flick instinctively before he charged back into the fray. The slice of the bears paw through his shoulder blade is easy as a knife through butter, clean but not terribly deep it tints his vision red. He is on the borders of his true rage, a state where he is unstoppable in his fury and uncontrollable to any who would come around her. It is her words that stop the slide, that keep him barely on the edge of falling and he grabs on to them like a lifeboat. Then again his skepticism at her words helped too. Don’t kill it? Why the hell not? It was in a rampage now, determined and he doubted it would just leave them be.

Still he dives for its pillar-like legs that barrel toward the cream and black woman; if he can slow it down then it would give them a chance to get away. As if she had read his mind her words ring out once more, his yellow-green eyes flicking her direction only for a moment to see her dance out of the way of the charge. He growls, it isn’t in his nature to turn from a fight until the battle is done but with one final snap of his large jaws at the bears legs to keep it driving forward he veers off.

He trails behind her, his thick legs not made for running as much as for power. His gait is a bit off, stunted by the dull pain that is quickly setting into his shoulder, but he manages to follow her until she stops. Even as she turns, smiling an eager smile he doesn’t stop completely. Instead he slows to a trailing walk, circling her to cool down his muscles. His eyes, however, with their deep pools of emerald surrounded by yellow stay trained on her giving her his attention. At her words his gaze turns back to the bear momentarily, long enough now to see two cubs emerging from the bushes and gathering about their wounded mother. A heavy sigh leaves his muzzle, turning back to the woman once more with a shake of his head. “Women…” is the only incredulous word that falls from his black-lined lips, quiet enough she may not have even heard it.

The next words she speaks are hurried, quick like her movements and the next thing he knows she is beside him. He halts, not because of her words but because of the spark in her own green eyes, the shine of her cream and black fur in the sun and the heady freshness of her scent. He sits automatically, unsure of what to do with her closeness. He wasn’t sure what to do with women, he saw them as equals on the battle field but he had never entered into…relations with any of them. Too sticky. Yet as he feels the warmth of her breath on the wetness now surrounding his shoulder… He shakes his large head, skewing the thoughts as his eyes drift to the moss at her feet. “The moss will help, some Elderberry too if it grows around here, for the pain.” His knowledge of herbs led only to those related to what might be needed during or after a fight. “Thank you,” he manages, words that aren’t very easy for him, “who are you?” He deserved to know the name of the woman he had fought for, right?