Broken Antler Fen rootbeer popsicle

Marcello stopped and threw a glance over his shoulder at the voice that greeted him. A figure stood there now, as if she'd materialized out of thin air, but he wasn't thrown off by the sudden arrival of the she-wolf. There was an air of idle dominance about her; the way she carried herself, and the crick of her tail. He turned on his heel to face her with an amicable wave of his bottlebrush tail, deferring himself to her inert rank within the pack he'd just been investigating and taking up the temporary mantle of subordinate. 

She was interesting; scarred paws, a curiousity, and a vibrant topcoat of gold cloaking an undercoat of darker browns and blacks. Her eyes were laced with suspicion but she wasn't outright chasing his tail out of here, which meant there was an opening for some dialogue.

His russet ears twitched forward only to kick back again, "Mornin'. Sorry to be a bother, just passing through on my way east." He remarked with a smile. "But since you're here, mind tellin' me what this place is called?"