Old scars on an old wolf

The weary old wolf watched the woods as he waited for his son to arrive. The boy - who was getting tall, now that he was a yearling - appeared not long after his call. Bundles of herbs in his mouth, and his leopard with a bowl. “Crux” He responded back, pushing his injured leg out a little further to give his son a better angle to examine it.

“Of course” He agreed, gesturing with his nose for his son to proceed. The jagged cut ran down from his shoulder to the front of his knee joint. Riddled with small stones and debris. It wasn’t terribly deep, but his fur was matted with blood anyway. He watched Crux carefully. He wasn’t a healer, but he made not of what he could. For starters, he would need to start work on a healers bag for his son.

"Speech"