Ivar goes back to a rumble that would be a purr if he were a small cat after Letha pokes his nose. Perhaps he'll give her another chance, something he rarely does with anyone. Better then holding onto grudges for sins that have yet to come to pass.

He words actually get Ivar thinking too. If he died in this animal form, would he come back in it? Would he be stuck permanently in it? Such questions were ones he'd rather not face. Better to demorph now and heal instead of wasting time. He struggles to his feet, every inch of him still in pain. He turns to Letha and rubs his massive head against her gently, mindful of his horns, in thanks for keeping him company.

Then he limps out of the room to go find a quiet spot he can demorph in.