[he looks heartbroken when she winces, and then it's time to put his paw on top of hers as she touches her wound. He wraps his fingers gently around her paw, squeezing just a little to reassure her, being careful not to put any more pressure on her bandaged throat.]
But when will that reprieve come? Have you any way of knowing? And—what if you fall before he does, or in his desperate state he lashes out and injures you once you are too exhausted to evade?
And when he recovers—what then? Will you fight him again, every day, until neither of you have the strength to stand?
[his voice has gotten a bit thicker, but he's not crying; just heading towards a touch hysterical.]