Goldilocks ate the porridge, killed the bears

Posting a little out of order but I was inspired and it's the conclusion round anyway. :p

It was only in the aftermath of the battle, as Ragnar watched the bear limp away, accepting it’s defeat with what little bit of dignity that remained of it, that his body shivered as the effects of the drugged mushroom he had consumed began to wear off in time with each slowing beat of his heart. The colors began to melt back into his vision and he was, as Pump spoke, becoming more and more aware of the matted feeling of fur on his left, hind leg and hip. His muzzle was covered in the bears blood, sharp canines stained with it, his breathing heavy pants to expel the heat that he had worked up. None of the others seemed hurt and she had brushed away his offer to call for Thistle. Ragnar took a step back, wincing at the stabbing pains that shot through his leg as he did - the drug having finally worn off it would seem - and peered to look. There were three gaping claw marks - hard at this point, covered in sticky blood and fur matted and clumped with it, to tell if they were shallow or deep (but he assumed that they must be shallow because he didn’t see any bone or muscle) - closing his eyes for a moment as if he might pass out (not at the sight of blood but from the loss of it and the mushrooms). Perhaps he would have but he fought it and for the time being, his mind complied. “I will go see my wife,” He declared to no one in particular before he limped off not wanting to make Thistle, heavily pregnant as she was, to move all the way too where they were.