Clay Pots

Ivy's attention span was already thin at best. At worst? Well, there was a reason he spent more time getting into fights that he couldn't really win with his siblings. It had bruised his ego (and his shoulder, ow), but he was no worse for it. What was it that they said? It's not the size of the dog in the fight, but the fight in the dog? Something like that. There was a hell of a lot of fight in Ivy... still, he'd come up short more often than not. One of the smaller pups, but not short on tenacity.

Still, there was a thought in his head about healing too. Uncle Álarr had taught them about dandelions, something that Ivy couldn't help but find fascinating. Who woulda thought that plants could do so many different things? If he could learn how to heal, then he'd be able to bail Lo out when things got... sticky. That was the most important thing, at least for now, in his head. Ivy had been napping when the call came, and he stumbled awake at the sound. Ugh sitting still sounded like a lot right now. Somewhat begrudgingly, the boy trotted towards the fire, giving a big yawn before speaking. "What're we doin'?" He peered curiously at the lumps of clay before his uncle, head quirking to the side.

"Speech"