In some ways it would have been better to hurt more. A painful blow sharpened the mind, focused will into swift and direct action, let you know you were still alive and reminded how close death can come in a moment of indecision or hesitation. Instead Solo was covered snout to tail in tiny scratches that could not heal as he ran, as every new leap of his hindquarters pulled the wounds back open. They hurt for sure, but not in the way that focused the mind, merely in the way that led to deep irritation. It was probably all in his mind but he was sure he could feel the forces of corruption and poison battling with his mighty Uratha constitution in a hundred tiny battlefields stretched out like spider webs all over his body. He was, in short, in an ill mood considering the success of their mission. 'Great job you two.' He said in clipped terse words, hiding from them as best he can his mounting frustrations. 'Let's get all this safely back to the den, then we can decide our next move.'