It was a brief interlude, broken by the feeling of a wet tongue being shoved in to the chasm across his brow. Njal was dizzy and confused, blinded and shocked. At this point the man could not feel the pain that Tuwawi forced upon him. It was for his greater good, and in the initial shock Njal could not protest. Roused by her care, Njal tried to get to his feet and he staggered, stumbled, and lay prone once again. An insistent Tuwawi voiced sharp concern between licks; "Hold still, she commanded, and Njal obliged, more because he couldn't really function at this point.
The scent of blood did dominate the situation. The rending of flesh, a sound he heard after the kill of the deer mere weeks ago, was nearby. Njal thought of Fox then - he saw her in the distance, somehow thinking it was his wife being in two places - and noting the amount of morbidity at the scene, he pulled from Tuwawi hastily. The man was on his feet, swimming still but somehow stable. "No, I'm fine," He slurred softly. With a grunt he protested, shoving his wife away with insistence. "Fox is.. Fox is hurt, she is important. Go."
Njal stumbled back a step, and then righted himself; he motioned with his head (which was a bad idea, oh god was it a bad idea, sending him on a new series of mental spins); "Go." And when he saw that Tuwa was shifting her attention, he began to drag himself along in to the forest - away from the gathering and towards the dark, where he would feel safe.