Once Broken, Now Whole

Heavy echoes lined the hallways of the structure they Why'o dogs had claimed as their base of operations. The sounds pierced from the concrete walls, bouncing around corners and lingering on the air. Some of these noises were the voices of other canna, some the pitter-patter of their paw pads striking the floor, but mostly it was the sound of the cold, stormy weather outside, berating the outer walls of the prison. For that is what this place was - a prison. Both physically and metaphorically in Hara'Mukha's case. He felt trapped, though was never physically detained - at least, not by any other canna. No, his captive attitude was derived from one main attribute. His injured leg. At this point he had come to terms with the fact that his lameness would most likely prove to be a permanent feature. It left him with a hidden sense of heartbreak at the canna'thi that he used to be.

Prior to the Rozo'ama akoda, Hara had wandered the country side as he had pleased, only stopping when something of interest had caught his attention. He had come and gone from many of the friendlier packs, gangs, and clans of dogs but had never lingered - or been made to stay - for more than ridna emre. With the Why'os he had been in their territory for nearly twice as long. Thankfully they were a hospitable bunch, if not full of mildly grating members, but he longed for the freedom that came with sprinting outside in any direction, no destination needed. He grumbled to himself as his dark chocolate eyes darted back towards his rear end. That blasted leg. Even if he did manage to leave this town and these canna behind, he would never enjoy true freedom again.

The pain had mostly subsided from the appendage. He still, however, walked with a very obvious limp as any weight put on the leg would shoot spearheads of pain up from his paw pads to partway up his spine. His tail drooped at the thought. The clan's shadowspeaker, Udu'e Canna'a, had seemingly been constantly encouraging the silver brute to get up and move around, exercise and build muscle to help mend the injury. It was true that the joint was no longer dislocated, though he was unsure if the bone itself had cracked or not under the pressure of the fallen concrete from the collapsed dog shelter. Either way, he was certain there had been nerve damage and was keen to disregard her pity towards her plight. Or had it been empathy?

Dark ears on the silver head perked up straight at a voice that caught his attention. Well, it was not the voice itself so much as the words spoken. "-stupid busted leg!" His eyes narrowed in frustration as he turned on his heel back towards the room where the sound had originated.

Hara'Mukha moved at a quickened pace. His shoulders were tense in frustration. The voice had been somewhat small, clearly the yip of a ren. Those little punks needed to learn some manners. Normally Hara enjoyed the youthful company but the Why'o pups had proven to be of a higher annoying factor than any clan pups he had previously encountered. Or, perhaps it was solely based on the fact that he had stuck around longer than usual and began to see them fully as individuals.

"Wot ar' ya sayin' u ren?!" he belted, rounding the corner into the healer's room to face his supposed antagonist. Of course it was one of the little owi ele'cannara. The damned healers of this clan caused him nothing but strife. And now, the younger generation were getting in on the irritation. The thick mane around the elkhound's neck stood on end as he entered. It was one of Tavi's pups. One of those little boogers had a tendency to yap at the older male whenever he would find himself a corner in a common area to stretch out and take a nap. He was never quite sure which of the trio it was, though.

Brown eyes darted between the pup and the mess of herbs and flora that littered the floor. He cocked a brow in a questioning expression. "Wot di' ya do 'ere? Makeh' a mess ar' ye?" he inquired. His facial muscles twitched as he tried to hold back a laugh at the absurdity of the situation he had just walked in on. Typical Why'o healers.

A smile began to tug at the corner of the elkhound's lips at the pup's first answer. Of course, it was an accident. That is, unless the pup had purposefully spilled herbs all over the floor. Out of all of the clan's pups, however, Lendri was the last one to strike Hara'Mukha as a trouble maker. A finder of trouble, sure. But he had gotten the sense the ren was dragged into situations by his siblings or the menace of a healer's apprentice, Kitchi-Kitchi.

His more light-hearted demeanor immediately turned sour at the ren's next statement. "Wot'chu mean ya don' 'av an ide-uh?!" he belted. Again with these dogs! He was speaking plain canna, why did they struggle so much with his words?! The edgings of a snarl began to quiver up his muzzle before he took a breath to calm himself. It was only a ren, and rens needed patience and understanding and they didn't always "get it." The older male's dark eyes darted over the mess on the floor. He clucked his tongue as he considered his next move.

His eyes fell on the pup's splinted leg. The sight of it softened the silver canna's heart - if only slightly. It was difficult enough for someone his age to be dealing with a lame limb, but a ren?! It was tragedy at its finest. Hara could hardly imagine if he had such an injury at such a young age. How different his life would have been! Assuming he had lived at all. Injuries that were only minor living with a clan could prove fatal to those who chose to live alone, as he had. It was why he had taken up healing to begin with. Not only did he find the effects of certain plants to be fascinating, the skill was also a key to his survival. It had also proven a valuable asset in trading on his travels. Lout and a warm place to stay for some healing knowledge and stories.

Heaving a sigh, the brute turned the subject back towards the flowers and plants that littered the floor. "C'mon then. Le's git dis mess cleen'dup," he said. His voice was still rough but with the tiniest hint of softness beginning to crack beneath the surface. He gestured towards the spilled herbs and waited a moment. When the ren didn't immediately react Hara let out an audible groan before beginning to sort through the different plants and pile multiples of a kind together. If he couldn't speak words he would mime out the actions - and help the pup out a bit while he was at it. Actions, after all, speak louder than words. Especially if those words aren't understood no matter their volume.