Otter Creek I'm Soakin' it in Kerosene

Was this chick serious? He sat up and looked at her, unamused and somewhat bewildered by her response. Did wolves in this part have some sort of bloodlust-y cannibalistic tendencies he'd missed the warning sign for somewhere? Either way, she was way too close and a little on the crazy side. Kerosene sat up and lowered himself into a downward dog kind of stretch as he slunk through the shallows and took a few paces away for himself. Why? So he could shake and not spray all over her. Then again, she might like that. 

He shook out his fur and turned in the water, glancing back at her as she introduced herself as some undead devil warrior of pure evil from a fluffy sounding pack of black feathers. He was so scared. Feathers. Feather warriors. Oh help. He was so loosing sleep tonight. 

And then she asked a question. 

"Unimpressed," he answered, staring at her as if she'd grown a third eye in the center of her forehead. He was a little dumbfounded, but he'd deal. "Do you always start with that intro? Or just like to be the grim reaper for those who look dead and dying?"