Out of the Woods

Ollie turned fully toward the Warlord, a thin raggedy boy, not so far out of his puppyhood. He pulled a dark lip in through his teeth as he thought.

The vacancy gaped wide in the pack, and as far as he knew Zion, himself and Wylan were the ones interested in the arts of healing. They hadn't seen Crux around in a while.

"You've seen me fight some, you've seen my ability to heal. Shall I request the rank of Combat Medic first or should I reach for the stars and apply for the Trauma Specialist now?" It was bold, it was brash, he can chalk it up to young naivety to request such a rank now. He was eager to grasp at it if it afforded him some mobility and maybe he could even come with them on the raid. He probably needed more practice to prove himself to the others.

"Speech"