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The boy mentioned the plant-- a name he'd heard before and vaguely recognized, but Kesho had never seen it in use. He gave a vague grimace of unease over the jackal's saliva being rubbed into his wound, but supposed there might be reason to it.
As his leg was swaddled in gauze, Kesho became instantly aware of the shooting pain searing through it at every wrapping. He flinched once, pulling his leg back, and gave a low growl-- more to the pain than the boy. As the jackal finished his supposed duty, the older man surveyed his work. Stretching out his leg, he felt the instant dog-like urge to get this thing off. It was foreign, and in much too close contact with his skin. It was insanely uncomfortable, and he gave several feeble shakes to the leg, though he knew it wouldn't budge.
The boy had uttered a small warning about tending the bandages, but Kesho hardly took notice, even scoffing slightly. How would he keep it dry with winter here and snow coming in fast? "With the snow I'm sure that'll be easy," He spoke sarcastically.
Of course he had some appreciation in him. At least he might be spared from the additional pain of the wound on top of his already aching limbs and joints. He gave a grunt of thanks as the jackal muttered his last words. "Who are you, anyway?" He was mildly interested to know the boy's name and where he'd obtained his skills. Kesho had not encountered any others with that knowledge.
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