The doe and fawn reunited in a heartwarming chase between the two wolves, pairing up and vanishing into the brush with no thank-you at all. Nate couldn't really blame them, considering what their helpers looked like, but...

Well, one of these days a little more appreciation and a bit less getting beat to death would be nice!

Hh-eeh— Nate tried to call Etienne, when the fella didn't show up right away at the swift exit of their victims (attackers?) A bit of tightness lessened when he finally clambered out the gully. Of course, the sight of him covered in blood soon stole the joy of it.

By then Nate had sort of managed to sit halfway upright through the throbbing in his ribs and swelling of his throat. Smacking his lips as if to test the function of his jaw, he gestured to his throat. N-hh— Never beegn, askhed t'... sh-hut up, so, rudely, hngk— A wince. Rhibs... too. Ahre yhou—?

The fact Etienne could talk a straight sentence implied to Nate it was nothing dire, and it had already been packed, but shit, that was a lot of blood!

Either badly bruised or just a hairline fracture, up to you! And he'll be awful hoarse for a few days lol

---

The laughter made Nate fairly confident he wasn't dying either. Although the thought of being poked and prodded to make sure had a practical root, something less practical in himself succumbed to the urge of brushing off concern.

I-'hm. Fghine. Nate replied, thinking it would be more chiefly or something to prove he could stand and nobody needed to worry over him. So he tried. To stand.

"Not so bad, see?" He wanted to say next, but when he tried to get up oh-so-nobly, the pain decided to rise to the challenge as well and Nate's vision went drunk. Instead, he said something like, Hgshbv—? on the way back down to the grass.

Nate did not understand the language, but he certainly recognized he was being scolded.

... Maybe for a good reason.

The english (wolfish?) after erased any doubt, and Nate tried to laugh it off on impulse which went about as well as the rest of it had. Ouch.

Ain't there always bleedin' inside? He wanted to quip, and the refrain was hard to bite back — instead he tried to look as unbothered by the fussing and the flinching of wounds as he could. A brave face might save his dignity where talking only jeopardized it.

Still, Nate managed an appreciative nod at the healer for caring enough to check.

Nate nodded at the diagnosis, and refrained from telling the healer anything snarky like, Yeah, I figured, hey did you know I was beaten to death a few months ago? Now those were some broken ribs. Hah!

Etienne might not see the humor in it. Nate wasn't sure he saw the humor in it, either, if he was being honest.

Instead he took the yarrow, chewed with some attempt to look penitent. He'd been through worse than this, he'd died! Twice! He figured if it was just a little bruising, he'd be able to power through just fine. Three weeks was too long to be laying around for a chief!

But — well, he'd take the help for now. Sh-outh of here. He hoarsed. Got a, village. Food and, shelter for you, too... Thanks...

---

Etienne I regret to inform you that Nate will continue to be annoying in this regard LMAO

AHAHAH Nate will him SO many opportunities to do this 😌

---

Oh, well, Nate grinned through a wince, Who ever, needed t'breathe, anyway?

He managed to get to his feet, and from there it got a bit easier to focus on one foot before the other. Adrenaline was a helluva drug and now his lungs weren't clean stolen from him all he really had to contend with was the pain that arced out of every step, inhale, or repartee.

I'm fine. He wouldn't need to take a break.

(He would.)