Moonspear And the chickens how they rattle chicken chains

It would take him a few days to recover from his adventure to and from Neverwinter Forest. What had begun as a simple job returning a lost friend to her pack, had ended up becoming a battle for his own life when he blundered into a mother grizzly and her cubs. If it hadn't been for Minori, he would've easily been killed- and both of them had taken a few good hits. For Bronco, having been slacked twice by the grizzly, his ribs were bruised- possibly a couple of them cracked- but he was otherwise alright. So much for battling a bear and having a scar to show for it; most of the flesh wounds he had were from when he tumbled to the ground, minor scrapes and scuffs. 

So he took some time from patrolling to rest in the opening of the crevasse, with its verdant walls climbing up toward the grey skies behind him. Between his hefty forepaws he clutched the remnants of a doe's hip and haunch, the remainders of a meal he'd found days ago. He knew he'd have to eat in order to heal the muscles in his ribs and back, so with a soft drizzle slicking the fur of his sides, he quietly lay on a patch of moss, and chewed away at his meal.