With winter heavy on the air, Altavro was finally doing better than he had been at the start of the season. The infected wounds had healed up almost entirely with a lot rest and herbal treatments at the paws of Erani, and now that autumn was beginning to draw to a close, Altavro was able to wander again. He had taken advantage of this to stretch his legs and wander a little bit away from Valhalla's lands. Walking, with his softened muscles, was a good distraction from how much all of the laceration itched. They were almost healed, and were proving to look pretty nasty in terms of scarring up. The pink lines marred the fur across much of his back and hindquarters, and unlike his healer mark, the fur had yet to grow back over the wounds. There was still a little bit of scabbing marking many of the wounds, but they had improved vastly since his arrival on Valhallan soil. Ears twitching, Altavro settled back on his haunches, claws curling into the soil as he resisted the urge to scratch yet again. Gods above, this itched. But he knew that if he succumbed to the urge and scratched, he would be much more likely to find his wounds infected yet again. As a Nomad, he should have known better than to let them get infected, but he had allowed it to happen once, and he would never live it down if it happened again. So he would have to deal with the itchiness, and just distract himself somehow. Run, perhaps? But he had been immobile for long enough that Altavro didn't fancy the idea of going for a needless race against himself. This was terrible, Altavro thought irritably, ears pinning back against his skull for a long moment. Never again was he going to be this stupid, proud or not. All the newfangled pack mentalities in the world would not stop him from getting his wounds treated as he ought when he could not take care of them himself. Speech,

With more wolves joining Tortuga by the day, Qanik was feeling more comfortable leaving the packlands to wander, knowing that the borders would still be guarded. She'd made her way south again, partly hoping to find Flamesong - who was always on her mind, no matter how hard she tried to forget him - and partly in the hopes of finding more potential packmates. With her gaze actively seeking for other wolves, she was therefore not entirely surprised when she came upon the golden-colored wolf. Her eyes took in the still-healing scars on his back and hindquarters, and her brow rose. Goodness, he looked like he'd been dragged behind a caribou across gravel. She stepped closer, making no effort to hide her approach. He looked like he was in some distress, with his paws clutching at the ground and his ears pinned back. Were the wounds still paining him? She knew really next to nothing about the healing process, but she had the battle scars to show that she'd gone through it, and she certainly didn't remember it hurting when they were that close to healed. Although... they did itch like crazy... Only her dark eyes showed her amusement as she came to that realization. "Hello," she said as she came into easy speaking range. "Are you all right?" Speech

what are you made of? [flesh and bone] The soft crunch of pawsteps against the earth was the first thing that alerted him to the approach of another wolf. Altavro stirred, his blue eyes scanning the area until they settled upon the white figure. She contrasted with the environment perhaps even more so than he did, with unmarred white fur that wouldn't blend in with anything but the far north's snow. How did she get any hunting done? The question was forgotten as soon as it appeared in Altavro's mind, as her greeting reached his ears soon after. "Itchy," Altavro grumbled in response to the other wolf's question, wriggling a little in a vain attempt to stop the incessant prickling of his skin. Of course, nothing really helped, and it had been absolute misery for a little while now. Not as bad as the pain and delirium caused by the infection, but bad enough that Altavro was never going to let it happen again. "Anyways, hello." His greeting was halfhearted, but he was a little distracted at the moment, to say the least. "I'm Altavro." The introduction rolled off his tongue with ease and Altavro examined the white wolf curiously. What brought this wolf to such a place? It was close enough to Valhallan territory that he had been able to walk there with muscles that had been hardly used for a while now, but now he was tired and entirely unwilling to move any further. & i'm running out of timeA L T A V R O

The wolf's grumpy response to Qanik's question brought back sympathetic memories, and a smile to her muzzle, a smile that only widened at his half-hearted greeting. "I am pleased to meet you, Altvaro," she murmured, dipping her head politely to him. "My name is Qanik. I don't suppose there's anything I can do to help?" She was no healer, of course, but if he knew something that could soothe the itch, she was deft enough that she could probably follow his directions. But there was something a bit curious about him now that she could meet his eyes - a strange reddish marking on his forehead. It certainly didn't look natural, and she couldn't help but be curious, and she cocked her head to the side as she looked more closely at him. "If you don't mind me asking - I certainly don't mean to be rude - does that marking on your forehead mean something in particular?" Speech,

what are you made of? [flesh and bone] Pleased? Hmph. As if. Altavro glowered a little at the other, but remained mostly contained. Perhaps it was a little understandable that he'd be irritable at the moment, but then again, wasn't he always? 'Grumpy' was Altavro's middle name, after all. "Not unless you can make these heal any faster." Twitching his ears in irritation, Altavro heaved an irritated sigh. There was nothing to be done, he knew, but it was obnoxious all the same, and until he was fully shipshape, Altavro reserved every right to be in a bad mood. And the ever so predictable question that he had been asked far too many times since arriving here once again reached his ears. Altavro bit back an irritated sigh - someone was clearly skimping on these wolves' education. Between Qanik and the little scrawny pup, Altavro was at his wits end. "It's the Mark of the Nomads... I don't suppose you've ever heard of them?" No, that would be too easy, wouldn't it? "I got it when I finished my healer training." He tacked that part on, banking on the fact that this Qanik would not have heard of his wandering family. They had been famous within their realm, but out here it was a rare wolf who recognized Altavro's heritage. Many with Erani's pack had, but not so much outside that. & i'm running out of timeA L T A V R O