Sea Lion Shores like the day before

nonsense, no apology needed ♥

I don't recall asking. He keeps the thought to himself, offering a little flick of the ear as compensation. "Unnecessary," and he shook the thick weight of his head, pulling his legs from the salt and surf and running a few more digs of his tongue against the sensitive flesh. Healers were a sign of weakness; the small boys were sent off when their limbs broke and their noses bloodied, and you never saw them amongst the barracks again. Healers, reapers - they "healed" mistakes in the army's code, that's all they did. Even though he was quite aware that all cultures differed from his, he'd rather not take the draw and lose the bet, thanks.

The young man's prone to speaking - a talker, like most - and Karma nods stiffly at the admission of his name. He doesn't, of course, offer his own in return; that was one societal convention he'd never understand, but oh well. "Your... pack lands, are they?" Barracks, pack lands, pride lands - the names changed with the seasons, it seemed. His black-spotted tongue laps at the side of his lips, scarred nose wrinkling. "They're near here, I assume." So far, he'd found that very little men wandered freely of their own accord; even over the sting of salt in his nose, he could chance a guess at the stink on Fearghal's hide wasn't just his own. It was casual conversation, sure - but it helped his mapmaking more than anything. A soldier needed to know where everyone was on the map; how else could he plan his own scouts accordingly?

Well, he was a little low on scouts, or soldiers in general. But if age taught him anything, it was that things took time. Patience is key, all that nonsense.