Phantom Hollow A Shadow's Mirror

'A healer,', he stated mentally. Of course the giant couldn't hear him, but it was solely because Cry was going through every single option he believed was necessary for the moment. Every precaution. Every countermeasure. What harm could come out of asking his uncle for favors? Nothing much, as Slade could not smell a pack scent on the wolf now, his scent his, and his alone.

"A healer."

Cry watched the face of the sly brute before him, the gems studying for any facial indication that he was in the wrong for such an act. As much as he wasn't supposed to, Cry trusted Slade. His uncle had proven time and time again he was their for the young Prince, sometimes without him even knowing it. Cry had been brutally assailed by a bear once, the crisscross patchwork of scars lamenating his back the results of the ursine's merciless claws. He was young, naive.

Last sight he had come to know was the sight of his uncle rising, soaring through the air as some wrathful angel of death would and taking that bear, head on. Through the raspy snarls of the bears roars and the equally as ferious responses from his uncle, Cry had grasped 'Run', and after hobbling to his fours, he had escaped the disaster, never looking back. Years later, he had healed, and here he was.
He had never even said 'Thank you'.

"Do you know any free roamers?"