To the hunt!

He couldn't just lay there in the den anymore. He was sore because he wasn't allowed to move, the stitches sewing him back together on the verge of busting as his muscles flexed. Once the stitches were removed, however, he hardly cared about the orders to take it easy from the medic. He had been feeling useless laying around and needed to get back out there, feeling like himself again.

When he heard the call for a hunting partner, it felt too good to be true. Grimshaw quickened his pace to find the warlord, smirking at him as he trotted, albeit somewhat slower and with a slightly off gait than normal, up to the older man. "Anything particular in mind?" He asked, voice picking up from his obvious excitement to be out of constant bed rest.

"Speech."