Tormented Tarns days replace days

Lennon's shoulder was healing faster than he anticipated, likely only a few smaller scars would remain once completely recovered. Even then, his fur might cover any trace of a wound there. His leg, though, was still unable to be walked on. Every chance available, he took the time to clean the gash, heading the witch's warning. Ever since, the young wolf no longer occupied their time with a song, only when the three were falling asleep. His charm and cheeriness, for the most part, hadn't ceased; especially when Alarian was being extra merry. 

Seeing a stranger, for the first time, Lennon wished to turn around and leave them be. He cared not for a brawl, nor ill-tongue in his state. He cared not to deal with anymore, in simplest form, bullshit.  It was clear the wolf in the distance was not a weakling, and nor was he when he had four working legs. Part of Lennon disliked this sudden scorn towards unfamiliar faces, before the recent attack he would approach any strange with hope and welcoming - but the "scuffle" had tainted his jovial perspective of newcomers for the time being. Yet, the true side of Lennon managed to peak out and not run away at the sight, and instead be only cautious. He chuffed as well, making the shadow aware of the group's presence.