Porcupine Ridge i've given up

Charon wearily lifted his head when he heard a familiar voice. He could not make out why it was familiar, exactly. He did not know if it was Thistle Cloud that would fawn over him and make him feel better, or if it was someone else he knew... Or maybe it was no one in this mortal life, but a valkyrie who had come to take him away. He lifted his head slightly to look upon her while he tried to hold his balance, his legs quavering as they nearly refused to hold his battered body up any longer.

When he looked at the black wolf, he knew for certain that she was a Valkyrie, here to take him away, to the halls of Valhalla. Charon had never been very religious despite being brought up by Ragnar and Thistle (who had never imposed their religion upon him either) but he knew of Valhalla and the valkyries. Perhaps he was not the best of vikings, but Ragnar could have sent a Valkyrie down to collect him nevertheless. Or perhaps she was a star, here to collect him towards the night sky, where he would shine forever. Perhaps stars and valkyries were the same thing. He believed she had to be either, or both, because he remembered meeting her vaguely, and because she looked beautiful yet fierce, like he imagined the valkyries to. His thoughts were a blur and he was barely holding on to consciousness, but he felt firm in his belief of her identity.

His bottom lip quavered a little as he looked at her, drool and blood dripping from his lips. He licked his lips, blinked his eyes a few times as though he was trying to stay awake, and asked her: "Are you a Valkyrie, here to take me?" The deep wounds in shoulder and back hurt, especially the pulsating pain that shot from his back through his entire body; the same one that made it so hard to stand on his own legs.