King Elk Forest Water to wine and the finest of sands

Mawk was about to rest his golden-cream head on the ground when a yip sounded from close by and the wolfdog's head shot up like a deers. He froze when he saw a dog (and it was unmistakably a dog) approach him. Mawk stared at her in obvious surpirse. How had a dog survived weather this cold? Any ordinary wolf would have growled and perhaps attacted this lonely dog, but Mawk didn't have either the heart to do such a thing. Besides, he was part dog himself. Instead he stood up (he was tall and uncomfortably felt like he was towering over the dog) and tilted his head, though gave a wag of his tail in greeting. This may have looked funny, though, since his tail was curled like a Malamute's. But anyway, the dog wasn't doing any harm, right?

"Who might you be, then? Whas' a doggo like you doin' out in the Teekon?" he barked, curious. His country accent was, as usual, there, but it had still faded compared to when he had first arrived. Though, that didn't matter right now. Mawk wanted to know what was going on. Had the dog somehow got off it's leash somehow?