Bearclaw Valley violent disposition

Cole holds her tightly, his broad frame enveloping her trembling form as though he could shield her from everything in the world. His heart aches at the broken sobs wracking her body, but his voice is steady, low, and soothing.
You’ll be okay, he murmurs, his lips brushing against her crown as he speaks. Breathe, baby, breathe. C’mon, look at me. he tilts his head down, his deep-set eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that commands attention. That’s it, sweetheart. Stay with me now.
He shifts slightly, one paw bracing her frail, bloodied leg as gently as he can manage. He assesses the damage with a practiced eye, his jaw tightening at the sight of the gashes. But his voice remains calm, a tether keeping her grounded.
You can’t feel it ‘cause your body’s in shock, he explains, his drawl soft, almost melodic. That’s normal. Don’t you worry ‘bout that right now.
His nose brushes against her temple, an almost imperceptible gesture of reassurance, as his large paw cradles her closer. Eyes on me. Don't look no where else.
He glances at her legs again, the blood staining her once-pristine coat. Anger simmers beneath the surface, not at her, but at himself for not being there sooner—at the coyotes for daring to touch her. His grip tightens just slightly, protective and steady.
The guard makes a move to lift her, ready to ply her atop his back.
You’re safe now, he coos, his voice unwavering, even as his heart thunders in his chest. I’ve got you. I've got you. Ain’t nothin’ gonna hurt you again. Not while I’m here.