Iktome Plains no snow here

Dagfinn followed blithely after the young woman, tail waving happily the entire way. He was content to let her lead without question, as she seemed to know where she was going. It was nice, he decided, to have a guide through these strange and twisted lands. There were so many different landmarks all so close together - it must've been a place very easy to navigate by those used to such things, but for one who'd been born on an endless tundra, it was much closer to a maze. Having the woman there to lead him allowed him to get lost in his thoughts, as he was his constant wont. He wondered where she came from and what her name was, and whether or not she had anyone to care for her. Maybe... maybe he could care for her?

They stopped at the river, where the woman had no reservations about slinking right in. Dagfinn's eyes tracked her movements, narrowing when she offered him the spot beside her.

With another wag of his tail and a lot more splashing than she'd caused herself, Dag settled beside her with a wide, toothy grin, tongue lolling gaily out of his mouth. With their sides pressed together, it was easy to match his breathing to hers until they became one black furred, blue-eyed, eight-legged sea creature.

"I will call you Murhe Sala," he said at last, nosing at her cheek to make sure she was paying attention to him. "And I have thought of a story for you - it is called "The Wolf with Eight Legs". Now - there was once a lonely creature, with eyes like ice and fur like the night sky..."