Between the damage to his mouth and the start of facial swelling from repeated blows, talking wasn't really on the Wolfpaw menu right now. In his current state, coated russet and a darker red from fresher blood, he could hardly tell where the pain began and ended.
Yet his distant gaze still tried to sweep over his companions, a check over their injuries -- what he couldbsee, with minimal movements beyond being guided to his paws and supported through the trek back to camp.
A rough purr for comfort rumbled in his throat, weak but trying to be encouraging. Talking might be off limits but he'd make those vocal pipes sing for some of his favorite cats.
[ @
dino. @
tallulah ]