Shadewood Unspoken and Unforgiven

Dogs, always trying to placate, to hide, to be present. Wolves, they were open, expressive - they had to be. If they didn’t take care of something, they were dead. Especially a wound. But as Cry knew it to be, he held no prejudice. He was no racist.

”You need help.” This time it was softer, as he didn’t want the dog to skitter away. She did in fact need help, and rather than her fleeing, he knew Gwen would be able to spruce her up. “My family can help you. Winter is no time to be alone.” Taking a step forward, the Phantom asked, “What’s your name, Miss?”