Moonspear We're painted red to fit right in

With help from Pyx and Judas, Floki was slowly on the mend. His injury was no longer as painful, although it was still unpleasant for him to put weight on his foreleg. He worried that the bones wouldn't knit together properly, leaving him with a permanent limp, but all he could do was hobble around and do his best not to make it worse. He would just have to wait and see, and despite his consternation, he didn't regret his actions at Nocturne Summit. It had been worth it, just to secure a meal for his pack.

Climbing the mountain was out of the question, so he spent a lot of time limping around its base. He was becoming more accustomed to using a three-legged gait, though he still often had to stop to rest. Presently, he had paused, his sides heaving with exertion, when he spotted Filth sprawled on the ground nearby. He watched her quietly for a long moment as the sunlight dappled her pale fur from beneath new foliage, and then stepped towards her.

"Uh -- Filth," he said, suddenly feeling ashamed that he didn't know her real name. She was the pack's thrall, but it still didn't seem right to have to call her Filth, especially after what she had done for all of them at the summit. "Hey, uh, thanks for helping me out the other day," he added. His gaze was diverted, but he was thankful that she had looked after him after he fell.