What's a God to a nonbeliever

He’d be lying if he said he hadn't heard the call for Ultyr, watched him go wearing that smug look, and had his interest peaked, ears twitching and swiveling as he tightened his forelimb splint almost painfully. He had time, that sounded like a call to a challenge. A fight, a spar, something used to work out differences or practice to better themselves on the chance of dealing with real enemies someday. It was a stupid hope that Ultyr would behave himself and treat it like a way to learn. The call hadn't sounded like Azriel, and it was doubtful to be Oath….and with Vayne gone….a line of thought best left alone before he picked at it too much. A sharp pull and adjustment to the bindings pulled him from his thoughts with the pain it brought. That left the white-pelted man tipped with black. Pulling himself slowly to his feet, he dawned the gold and black pelt across his shoulders draped down his sides and over his haunches. A haunt in another wolf’s skin, Atreyu called it his dollskin which he felt was suiting. Slung around his middle underneath the coat was his apothecary pouch, softly tinkling with the small jars and items he kept within.

Gany didn't think he’d need the pouch, it was simply a spar after all between band members, but he kept it with him regardless as a precaution. But finally approaching the place of the spar made him realize exactly how wrong he was on that front. Pale lavender eyes took in the scene quietly, the blood-stained coats and the damage done. Both minor and major, to a shoulder and a throat. "So I see time with my sisters and brothers has taught you to…maim your bandmates in a spar? Nope, no, I doubt this is their fault and I heavily disbelieve that they would condone this kind of behavior." He speaks from deep in his chest, keeping his words even and clear as he surveys the pair but those words were for the snow and soot man but he drifted his eyes to the burnished bronze male. "You both should have known better, what happens if an actual enemy comes charging in to take this place from us or decides they want what we have? Do you think you two injured is what we need to remain strong and able-bodied?" His words are biting now, anger simmering below the surface as he stalked into the clearing doing his best to ignore the painful twinging in his right front leg from the break.

"Oh I'm sure you have some big man speeches, the both of you, about how you could still fight ‘even if your limbs were broken and you were bleeding out’. Soldier types always have that mindset, I've seen it from Azriel too, but those injuries still hinder you. And any form of hindrance is a chance for your enemies to kill someone you love or take something from you. You’d do best to learn that before pulling more stunts like this." Shrugging the pelt from his shoulders to the floor, he pointed at Ultyr and then to the pelt as he settled on his haunches to dig through his pouch for the jars he needed to staunch the bleeding and clean the wound. Bites could be a nasty business after all.

"speech"

"other’s speech"