Firestone Hot Springs baby, you're like lightning in a bottle

His two-toned eyes traced what he could see of her figure, wondering if she'd even come up to his chin if she got out of the water. Pity rose up in his chest - the girl would surely die in this land, so close to wintertime. For the moment, she'd found succor, but when she tried to leave the hotsprings - to hunt or find shelter - the water would freeze on her already-too-thin pelt. She wouldn't be living for long.

"Some of us," the male replied, wading into the water and lapping some up as he went. It didn't taste great, but it felt warm on his throat. "Wolves kill to eat. Dogs don't. If that's what you call vicious, then you're in the wrong neck of the woods. But yeah - some of us are bad. There are bad dogs, aren't there?"

He continued to study the girl, wondering how she'd landed herself this far from civilization. Had she left on purpose, or had she been left behind? It seemed unlikely - humans could be cruel, but they were generally fond of their dogs. Kingfisher had learned that the hard way.