It's not immediately clear what the big wolf has chosen when he pads off. Bob's hearing is only akin to a fully hearing human and past a certain point he doesn't have the range to pick up detail. His brain pushes him through a series of mental somersaults until he's trying to make peace with the fact that he's about to get gobbled up by spiders. He'd pray if he was religious, but he's definitely not.

The crash would make him jerk in surprise if we was able to move at all and though maybe the faintest tingle in his limbs are a sign the venom is wearing thinner in his blood, he still can't drag himself away.

"Merked 'em, didn't ya?" It's a guess once he's been flipped onto his back, eyes fixing on the large wolf and then the crimson soaking into his fur. Maybe it's a mistake but he allows himself to interpret what's just happened as a sign he might actually live until the end of the day.

"Oh, shit-- they got you?"