Jade Fern Grove all that remains of you is a crackle of your energy

The injuries are not disastrous. More of an annoyance than anything. He has tried multiple times to clean them with a salving tongue but two of them are out of his reach. The perforations at his cheek and chest are matted in dried blood and that lunatic's saliva. Craziness cannot be contracted as sickness can, can it?

Natjuk detects the faint rustle of weeds before any spoken word. He faces her, discriminations adjusting to pick out the lupine shape before him. A peculiar looking wolf with a head of white with a body of rail-thin soot greets him. He has never seen such an exotic individual before and it shows on his face, inspecting her with an air of skepticism. Ultimately, he comes to settle upon her sights. The most credible part of her person, in his opinion. A dull, reserved yellow. So, she is mortal after all. Not some personified reaper...

Clearing the incredulity from his countenance, he formally receives her with a low pitched woof. This one has sense. He can tell there is intelligence by the glint in her eye. How she'll use it is yet to be seen.