Miksa limped carefully as he made his way toward the gathering his leader had called, his left foreleg suspended and his gait hobbled without its use. He was cautious of every movement he made, afraid of jostling his shoulder and awakening the ache that had become a rather constant companion to his injury, more so than the bite wound that marred the left side of his jaw. That only stung, and though any movements to speak or eat pulled at the healing wounds and made them uncomfortable they still did not compare to how his shoulder had felt.
None of his injuries, however, prevented him from arriving on time. He was quiet as ever, perhaps even quieter due to the state of his jawline, but he had never been one for voicing opinions and speaking up anyway. With a timid glance toward Novella and Frith and another spared for those already in attendance, Miksa limped up toward the back of the group and eased himself into a seated position, gingerly placing his left forepaw on the ground as he awaited whatever news would be shared.
