WTB trouble

The splint had come off just the day before, and Davey was already hellbent on overdoing it. Concealing the limp in his gait, gritting his teeth through the lingering pain. It makes him feel alive, the way every step sends a searing through his bones. Was he going to land his ass back in a sling before too long? Absolutely. Did he give a shit? Absolutely not. The pup is young and high strung, he's going to explore and look for trouble around every corner.

Wandering through the Moor with bright eyes, Davey is eager to shatter the solitude of the serene environment. There's too much of him, and there's too much energy bubbling and boiling within his system to keep him down for long. Bright eyed and erratic, he bounds through the tall grasses, trying to keep at least some of the shock from absorbing on his still-healing foreleg. Exploring is the name of the game, though he knows the Moor far better than most places. Warm summer sun on his face, stiff breeze at his back-- he's feeling great. Better than expected.

Now where's the trouble he longs for?

"speech"