Stone Circle alleyways and pay phone calls

The sheepdog had settled further into life, somewhat reassured by the thickness of Murdock's scent on her fur and the potential it held for making sure others did not see her as food. A week had passed, and yet no one had attempted to eat her, and thus she was growing fairly optimistic. 

Today was warm, in contrast to the past week's shill, sun sparkling off the white and highlighting the tiny footprints of prey. It was an endeavour that had taken her most of the morning, but she had succeeded; she trotted towards the sunnier part of the territory with a hare in her maw, tail wagging as she searched for a place to rip into the cooling body, the first piece of substantial prey she'd found in a few days.