I’m not cut out for this

Wilder had never met anyone taller than himself. As far as he knew, wolves pretty much stopped at whatever height he was, but that very much changed. Even though he's wincing in pain and bleeding from the wounds on his shoulders, his chin still tilts upward at the approach of the Warlord. Quite a massive figure and Wilder can't hide the momentary widening of his eyes until his brain registers that it might be taken as rude to do so.

Quickly clearing his throat, he gives his fur a shake to release tension before nudging the limp turkey toward the wolf. "I am looking for somewhere to call home," he begins, vermilion eyes glancing toward the tagalong youngster with med kit in jaw. Did... they just have good intuition or were already with the wolf? He wasn't about to look a gift wolf in its mouth though so he continued. "I'm good at hunting and navigating, but piss all at fighting. Cougar got me pretty good and made me realize that I might need some help," he feels awkward, tension lining his face. He hates asking for help, but he knows when he's hit rock bottom.

WILDER