The Heartwood Call me Mr. Rattlebone

The dirt was not where he belonged. The thought rang through his head like bells from a church on the hill. No, Ford was not a beast of the earth at all… he was a titan of the water. There would never be a place on earth that would hold him back the way that the sea did. It calmed him – it soothed the rattled mind of the savage hound. The further that he traveled inland, the worse his madness seemed to get. If he could not hear the sound of the sea against the shores, the cruel ticks of anger started to grow.
 
The woman asked him if he wanted her help. He scoffed, blowing dirt and a few small pebbles forward. He would not allow her to assist him. If he could not lift himself from the ground, then he deserved to die there. There was a quiet groan that turned into a pained snarl as the warhound adjusted his legs so that they were beneath him, quivering from only the lightest touch of his weight against them.
 
He would not make a fool of himself in front of anyone. His head throbbed with such excruciating pain, his vision had started to fade to blackness. Ford gritted his teeth and exhaled sharply, doing everything that he could to keep himself steady. Every ounce of his strength was used in his thrust of effort. He managed to shakily lift his torso from the ground and sit on his hind legs with a hiss of pain. The titan drew his gaze to hers and lowered his muzzle in a small nod.