Dawnlark Plains carry me home

A small smirk - admittedly with a tinge of enjoyment - coiled the corners of his lips as he watched Fry struggle to find composure in the presence of their new acquaintance. Mac's terrible operation had been preformed far earlier, too early by his standards, and he felt nothing but amiable curiosity toward the she wolf standing before them. But Fry, on the other hand, was pretty much fresh off the table...the camping trip had been a misguided attempt at bolstering the young Retriever's spirit in light of his new self.
 
"Fry," he introduced gladly with a wide gesturing of his head-
 
BWUMPH!
 
- the Newfie jerked his noggin back after his cheek struck the edge of the cone unexpectedly. His eyes were wide though he was clearly unhurt by the ordeal; the gaze narrowed at the satellite dish that had brought both himself and (most definitely) his brother nothing but trouble from the very start. He huffed, contemplating, and then shook his head as a second breath hissed between his teeth. "It's gotta go," he mumbled to no one in particular. It'd be worth the stern remark of Bad Boy! if only to see his bro not get tangled up in the bushes again. Or hitting a tree. Or smashing their too few meals while trying ferociously to eat with a 2" gap between his teeth and the food. Or partically blinding them both when the sun caught it juuuuuust right.
 
"Can you help me?" he asked of Rana with an expression of intense hopefulness.