Wheeling Gull Isle poking a voodoo doll you didn't know i made

It is too much for Mou to grasp the severity of his wounds, but he knows that he has been in this shelter for many days now and that the medicine wolves do not want him out and about. He is indebted to them, but also growing restless, as evidenced by his constant struggle. If anything, his need to stand and prove himself as a healthy individual means their medicine is working, but he is impatient, he is frustrated, and he does not take Reed's words kindly. Rather, he silently sneers at her with bared fangs (a useless gesture, but one he has taken up recently and frequently to impart his annoyance). He does not have the will to harm her or any of the others, it is merely a flash, a show. Soon enough his fangs are  hidden away again and he is sulking.

Her statement is met with a soft huff from his nose; no, he cannot walk, he cannot talk, all he can do is sit and listen, or sit and eat, or sit and medicate. But she offers him something — a kindness, in her own way — with the offer of speech. This too brings a huff from him, an eye roll, and he emphatically shifts his head with the roll of his one eye to look at her with dramatic pause, as if to say, are you serious?

Mou does not feel the pain in his throat like before. The healers say it has mended. They tend to his other issues more frequently now but still he cannot make a sound, and the pointed look he gives to Reed speaks of his defeat, although a fire burns in that eye of his. Finally he does sigh and relax somewhat, even adjusts himself so he is laying properly and facing her without the pagentry, his brows raised with skepticism.

At the very least, he is willing to try.