Wolf noticed the woman fleetingly as she cared for him. Some of his wounds went deep, but not threatening. His body tried to heal, but he was too weak to sustain his own wounds at the time. As he continued to stroke the air, he spoke softly in a foreign language, some kind of Viking speak is what most people call it. "Ekki hafa áhyggjur, Ulfa, ég lifa. Ég geri alltaf." He sighed as he lay back more comfortably, seeing the lights pass over him and feeling the care being given.

"Whatever god is truly out there, they seem to send me an angel." He would say a bit slurred. His burns prevented most movement, and he doesn't quite see who he's speaking to. But he sees the feminine shape and gentle touch. His head would sink slowly to the pillow again, his hand still stroking Ulfa and her warm fur.