Bramblepoint The view from halfway down

He noticed then, the accent the stranger had, and amid the ringing in his ears he found the man a bit difficult to understand. The name he provided confused Bronco, who had already forgotten what he might mean by sharing them. He didn't have the strength to ask Njord to clarify what he meant and simply remained silent, holding his breath every time the man pressed something into his wounds or cleaned it with his tongue. His muscles flinched and shuddered, sensitive to the touch where they had been split open and torn apart. 

He breathed a soft, pained sigh of relief to know that the others had escaped. The white wolf had carried the young one away, and the cat (whatever it had been) seemed to be gone. Njord's confidence was reassuring, and Bronco was forced to simply believe him. 

When Njord admitted that that was his daughter, he looked up to eye the man's features with one golden orb. His split brow would have furrowed if it hadn't been torn so much, and given the fact he couldn't show his pain, he sighed again. Here Njord was, tending to him when he should have gone off to make sure his daughter was alright. He supposed Njord felt indebted, and was helping him out as a means of showing his appreciation. Bronco didn't expect it to last long- and he'd already made up his mind that he would rather die alone, and send Njord off to find his daughter, than to keep him away much longer. 

He didn't realize his eyelid had begun to fall when Njord spoke to him again. he'd heard a howl- it must have been Njord, calling for help. His energy had begun to flag, and he felt tempted by sleep, as Njord had suspected. "Bronco." He said. "Brecheliant." Just enough information, he hoped. His breath caught in his throat when he thought to add that he had a family, too. Children who would be waiting him, and a wife who had done nothing but bring him peace in his final days.