Sleeping Dragon But please don't need it

It was doubtful that he'd speak again, for his want to learn had been gotten across clearly enough with what little he had said. Careful attention was paid to that which had been told to him, the world having seemed to melt away as she spoke. Background noise went unheard, having been of little interest to him. It was the lavender—even the name sounded prettier than dandelions—and Portia that he'd given his undivided attention to. It was a type of medicine, he'd come to learn, which he was somewhat familiar with. He didn't know the details of how it worked, but he knew enough to have realized that medicine makes a wolf feel better when they've been hurt or have fallen sick. Stomachaches were, of course, another thing that he knew of; out of his litter, he was probably the one with the most experience in the stomach-pains department.

Like Freyja, the boy was unaware of what exactly bug bites were. Bugs, he knew about, but the idea of them being able to bite was ridiculous! They were so small, how could they possibly be able to bite anything? His gaze flickered between the females, then landed right back on the eldest as he'd waited for her to share with them what she'd meant.