Hushed Willows shelter

Ah. It was a friendly wolfsicle. Dag wagged his tail.

"Hi," he said blithely, sniffing her over now that he seemed to have permission to be so near. He stood over her but tried not to loom during his quick examination. Other than the cold, she seemed like a healthy wolfsicle. Dag decided to rectify that, and laid down beside her, his back to her side, and leaned in her direction until he was in danger of squishing her. "I'm Dag," he informed her, tail whisking once more. He craned his neck to lick at whatever fur was nearest to him, deciding that he rather liked his comfy wolfsicle couch friend.