Neverwinter Forest they're good dogs, brent

The gunmetal male emerged from the trees with his tail wagging. His dull eyes darted from one wolf to the other, quickly taking stock of the situation. Nothing seemed amiss; it was just two packwolves, far from their own territory. Perhaps they were moving, like Morningside had, or perhaps they were merely on a trip. Although Grayday was curious about which one it might be, there was a reason he was out there.

"Hello," he said to the adult, coming to stand across the stream from them. "I'm looking for my wife. I wonder if you've seen an unnaturally small, black-coated shewolf around anywhere?" His voice was tired and wry; it was a struggle to stay polite, and Grayday had long since passed cheerfulness.