Sea Lion Shores callous is the old crow, he mocks even the sun

Nothing in the world could ever be so lancing as the salt that insulted his wound, irrigating and irritating the raw flesh at once. Dogmeat sucked inwardly, his gaunt ribcage expanding nearly three times its normal girth -- the saltwater hit him like a blow to the chest and he nearly slipped into the water stupefied by the consuming pain.

His hind leg, nearly destroyed by Burke's teeth, had fared better.

With a gingerness surprising for such a bulky behemoth, the dog slid himself against the supporting arch of a rock. With a long sigh he expelled his held breath, savoring the breeze that played along his blunt muzzle. He was so hungry, but his wounds commanded nearly all of his attention -- he dared not try his limb's luck on the local sea-lions until his wounds closed.