She is determined to answer this call. She hobbles along, gaining momentum as she learns to balance herself on three limbs, breath not the shallow thing it has been but deeper, faster, as she struggles along. The pain is manageable, but what she doesn't know if that the girl is preventing infection merely by breathing deeply, and her stubborn scurry towards the border might help prevent worst illness down the road. She picks up the last few words the male says, and in her hurry puts too much wait on her forepaw, hissing sharply when pain blossoms up her forelimb. Dawn pulls up alongside Pema, greeting her shortly and the other with a nod, breath coming a little fast, a few lacerations weeping blood. She hardly cares, though; she's done something, for the first time in days ages. "Coquihalla" she says, testing out the name on her tongue. She observes him, attempting to ignore her obvious shortcomings and injuries and hoping the other two would do the same. They share a similar coat, she realizes, and asks a moment later. "Are you looking for someone, or a home, or charity?" she asks quickly, not unkindly, yet bluntly. She hardly feels like wasting words at the moment.