tell me where it hurts

He licked at a fresh wound in his leg, he had always been tattered with scars, but now there were fresh wounds on his body; slashes, scratches, bites, even the thin punctures of a snake bite, but he refused to stop fighting, not until he could prove to the Odindottier that he would be valuable. He lifted his lip as a soot colored woman approached him, anticipating another battle, but instead she offered to heal him. “If you must.” He snarled, his accent faintly musical as he spoke.

He pointedly looked away from the woman, not wishing to make eye contact with her while she worked on him. Were all the wolves here so courteous? He wondered. So far all he had seen of them was the lust for battle, which he found admirable, but here was a healer, offering to tend to him even though he had nothing he could offer her, with of course one exception.

speaking