Nally stares at him warily from various hiding spots for the next several days and pointedly refuses to talk to him, which for Nally is a TRIAL AND A HALF. There are a suspicious number of corpses (bandits, random passersby who looked shady, anything with canine teeth sharper than Nally's) in a half-mile radius around Therrant at all times for weeks thereafter, with no explanation whatsoever.
Nallywolf sniffs him suspiciously, dispenses awkward giant wolf snuggles, and leaves him pieces of unidentifiable raw meat, periodically making grumbly annoyed noises that he is taking SO LONG to recover.
Not even the amazing amount of painkillers he managed to drink before going limp could ease the discomfort of being loved on by a giant, blood-soaked beast that reeked faintly of rotting flesh. But it was better than being at the mercy of other, less friendly gigantic beasts, so Therrant endured the werewolf's attentions in silence.
"'ts been awhile, wolf..."
