Blackfoot certainly was not your common sort of wolf, not in the least - and certainly not from amongst the choices you had between wolves of Moladion. It was strong first impression, or at least that is what Halcyon’s face seemed to say, and Blackfoot was just mad-scientist enough not to seem to realize that he had baffled the boy just a bit. He was younger at heart than most healers, unwilling to let the somber and dire usefulness of his occupation make him the same. It did not suit him to be any more serious than the injuries he cured, after all.

“Greetings, Lord Blackfoot. I am Halcyon. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Halcyon begins, and Blackfoot cannot help the sputtering chuckle that comes past his lips at the honorific he had chosen. “Oh, please, young buck -- you don’t need all that pomp and circumstance. Just Blackfoot is fine, yea?” He laughs more heartily as he looks at his large shell of items. “But it is good to also meet you, of course, of course.”

He breaks the ice, or so he thinks, further with the complement he meant with one hundred percent of his being. A nose for herbs makes him especially keen and he fights another chuckle as the young male trying to scent his own self. “Iromar has a lot of plants I’m sure you can add to your collection in your… turtle. Now that Taviora is one of our allies, I don’t see why you wouldn’t be able to visit. I don’t think Empress Aithne would mind. You might want to watch out for the alligators, though.”

Blackfoot pauses for a moment to look at Halcyon, the mention of alligators drawing him out of his teacher’s mindset for more than a couple seconds to ponder the thrill in his chest at the sound of Halcyon’s own hesitation. It is clear the danger is carefully considered in the young male’s face and it sends home the seriousness. “The Empress would be kind to invite a medicine man to take a gander, for certain. I would be most careful of the creatures of your kingdom, I assure you.” He notices just how on point the youth was with proper address and it made him wonder for a second if the manner of his own address had been at all faulty.

He does not shy away from the boy any more than he would shy away from any wolf intent on learning or being healed. He had become too neutral of mind to really suit any place, the biases all around being so strong as they are. He is a healer first, pack wolf second. It was who he was, not what he was. It made it especially hard to be seen as a boon being this way, but nevertheless here he is. Unabashed and never ashamed. He asked now about the purpose of this training and he watches Halcyon go back again into the proper young man.

“I must admit, I have never cared much to learn the art of medicine, but it is an essential skill I must learn if I am to grow stronger. ”

“I cannot take offense, young buck. Medicine is an art that many do not care to take the time to know… but this means I can teach you the broader spectrum, looser remedies, and the like. I will teach you field medicine, rather than the intense day to day upkeep. Your home will likely have it’s own apothecary for that.”

“Will I have to… catch my own turtle and carry things around like you?”

“Oh! My gods and earth boy, no,” he guffaws, but all wth the ringing good nature that an old friend might take with a long-time companion. “You I will teach another form of preparedness. I only bring this because I thought I might need a great many things for lessoning.” He chuckles, good nature always having been infectious (even for himself). “Now, that fretting alleviated… I imagine that the reason you even attempt this lesson, you wish to be a generalist, or what we call a Far Walker here in Taviora?”

It is clearly a rhetorical question, but he does not cut off any comment that the younger wolf might care to make. “How would you like to learn to make small poultices that can be created on the go, as you need?”

And another rhetorical question, as he seems to look around himself. “For instance, you are in a fight and headed home or your Empress has returned home with a dire wound from a battle to defend your home...” he says, seeming to ignore his large selection of items now that he realized what the boy intended with the knowledge he was given. “Always remember where you might find spiders web and moss,” he says as he trots to one end of the clearing to find a small web spread across the forest floor, swirling it onto a stick that he otherwise grabbed up on his trek to it’s place.

“This,” he says after he drops the stick of the strong and sticky material, “is the best thing for keeping a poultice together and to staunch bleeding. Be careful to not catch up too much nonsense in the threads, though, or you might accidentally dirty the wound more.”