There is little to be done, truly. The wounds will remain as wounds until my own body can do its duties. Nonetheless, there is an obligation of sorts to rely on healers. I know I am expected to turn immediately into the territory's perimeter and seek one out if they do not find me. With Solitaire all but entirely gone, I suppose this will allow Hadrian his opportunity to show me his self proclaimed alternative methods. There are other things I wish to do, however, and yet I turn into the mainland and begin the stiff journey towards Hadrian's den.

What call I do release into the air is brief and curt - a mere symphony to inform the pack that I have remained their head. They may come if they so desire but I see no reason to make an event or celebration of it. Perhaps that is the way that other packs operate and yet, I am not interested in spectacles. I expect my success to speak for itself. I do not deserve nor seek out praise for doing what I am required to do, or for what comes naturally.

The journey is slower than usual, my gait unable to return to its usual efficiency immediately. There is a residual tiredness to my limbs and the stiffness over my neck and throat do not take kindly to any movements. They are hard lumps of agitation. Their pain is not the dull, gradual ache that I can find true enjoyment in but rather a sudden sting that sends a sharp reminder into my jaw whenever my body bounces up and down with a stride. I do my best to ignore them regardless. In time, they will be nothing but pale marks beneath pale fur. Let them have their moment to shine.

The sun begins to rise as I arrive at Hadrian's den finally. Typically, I might have taken to the shores to bask in the salt water and yet, my wounds are far too awkwardly placed. I had roamed the shore for some moments but it was a futile task. Instead, I come to his den's mouth with a disgruntled huff of breath as I settle into whatever soft grass I can find. It is a decent area, I suppose. At least here I can rest comfortably. For the time being, that is what I intend to do. I settle into a position that allows my wounds to remain relaxed rather than taut, my chin tucked slightly as I settled onto my stomach. I make a short call for Hadrian and any others but little more. I have things to do, after all. Wolves to see. Wounds are nothing to waste such time over.