He stood before the young male with no shortage of ideas on where to start, but hardly being aware how a teaching session should be taken to. Did one dive right in? Talk and lead up to it? No matter. He was going to jump right in and start it off with something rather a bit more likely to happen than not. There was one wolf in particular who seemed determined to undermine the peace of every pack. Rather irritating if you asked him, it was already dodgey in this world of politicking. No need to exacerbate the situation with petty attempts of usurping.

The use of words that Halcyon doesn’t know is not in the least bit intentional, Blackfoot so used to the terms and such that he cannot imagine not understanding their meaning. Poultice, staunch, the like. He supposed, in retrospect, he should have known the words wouldn’t likely be used often in front of a wolf so young. It seemed rare that any rallying defense speeches would be made when life was more or less lived within pack limits and hardly was something to find threats abundant about.

He also noticed the bubbling rage in the lad, though he decided to relinquish whatever notions about it he might have had. It wasn’t his job to tell the boy that his psychology needed helping. It was about the body, this time.

“You mentioned that this stuff and moss can be used to mend a wound. How? What does “staunch” mean? Can you show me?” The sniffing that Halcyon does at the stick, coupled with the manner that he takes in slicing open his own foot makes Blackfoot leap up and rush over. “What are you trying to do, pup!?” He chides and fusses, clearly not amused by this little antic that needed real healing rather than lessoning. “Any fighter worth their salt doesn’t damage themselves in such a spot for such a needless thing as a lesson...” Now, it is serious and certainly less than playful.

“You’re gonna let me do all the scratchin and scraping, if you don’t mind… and I am sure we can find someone beat up enough to do real healing if you’re learning is better in the moment than in a classroom, so to speak.”

His pupils and ears tell the boy just how offput the older wolf is about the damages done as he looked intently at the thing before running to the turtle shell and grabbing a toothy pinch of honey. “I ought to make you walk through the pine needles for that stunt, young buck. Teach you that there’s nothing too small to make you smart enough to not do things like that so flippantly.” He mutters as he applies the honey with a push of his nose and then staunches the little blood with a emphasized push of the wolf’s paw onto a flat leaf. “Stand on that foot for three minutes or so help me, I’ll make you walk on lava rock for a proper lesson instead.” Oh, what a father he would make, “Do you know how important your pads are, young buck? How even the smallest wound can become a mighty adversary? You should not be so loose in your regard for your feet. They will carry you better if you are kinder to them.”