Lessons

Jakart eyed the female where he sat, forelegs give a quiver. His muscles throbbed, the yearling laying down in one fluid motion. That felt much better. His attention turned to the black female to his front, then to the herb spouting up right in front of her. A wag of his tail was given. A healer! Jakart planned on just saying hello and be along his way, but the meeting with this plant-mender would change that. Plants and roots and herbs. All of it was so interesting. But his father, Bane, had wanted him to be a warrior, and so while he lived with his family that's what he went with. Jakart almost laughed at the thought of his father kicking him out into the world, but suppressed the bubbling mirth. Bane loved all of his children to much for such action. Maybe one day if he dispersed he would take up the art of healing to add to his knowledge of first aid.

"Watching you." Jakart smiled and flicked his ears, pondering a matter if this healer could help him in his search. "But no, I'm actually looking for some salt. Or something sweet tasting. Been running up and down the hill over there to gain endurance. Conditioning. Fights can last a moment in one on one, or a battle. Gotta move to live. To find food. To make a den or collect an herb as your doing." The grey yearling shimmied a bit closer. "I guess I'm trying to moving better than others." He spoke with a glimmer in his eyes. "What's your name. Mines Jakart." The young male blurted out.