As the beast clamped down on the warriors arm, Jorn couldn't help but yell in anguish. Though it wasn't the first time he had sustained such a wound, the savage tearing and shaking of the beast's jaw was more then enough to overwhelm his senses. Slamming his fist in vain against the muzzle of the wolf, Jorn suddenly felt like this was going to be the end of him. It was then that the familiar sound of metal on flesh rang out; the beast that once assailed him falling limp to the side of his form in the snow. It was then that Jorn caught a glimpse of the mounted knight and his charge, struggling to get onto his feet as his blood dripped from his finger tips and onto the snow below- staining the fresh powder kicked up from the man's steed. Though the chill of the snow had chilled the rest of his body, Jorn quickly realized the feeling in his left hand had all but escaped him...

	Despite his ally's best attempt, the feeling of dread would not escape the wounded man, gripping his sword tightly in his off hand as his gaze turned back to the approaching wolves. "Angriff!" Jorn's voice echoing out over the frozen landscape, doing what he could to keep his figure loose and prepared for the oncoming assault, "Get inside!" If this was to be it for the man, so be it... He would not have a child- nor a brother in arms die over an already handicapped warrior. Slowy edging back in the snow, Jorn fought the urge to run, tightening the grip on his blade, "Come on... The Fair Lady is ready to see us home," locking eyes on the encroaching beasts. If one should approach, Jorn would attempt to kick snow in their face and step back, all the while taking duelist thrusts to keep them at bay/pierce their skulls.