Barrow Fields i ain't from 'round here

well, well, he hadn't been expecting that kind of voice to come out of the thick of the fog. it took buckshot by such surprise that he whirled around with a dumbfounded expression and latched his gaze on a lingering cloud in the shape of a crocodile. that was until the shape turned into a wolf. a fine wolf, at that! buck donned a crooked grin and swished his tail behind him. he didn't answer to no one, of course, but he was alway happy to amuse the ladies with his charm. 

"ah could ask you da same ting, eh? who made you da keeper o' da mist?" buckshot inquired with a wildly quirked brow. the ghostly hue of his argent gaze settled on the bright cinnamon markings that adorned her body. he'd never seen something like that. then again, there were plenty of wolves who hadn't seen a dappled beast like himself. who was he to judge? a back woods cajun, is who.