Barrow Fields and drawing lines around my body to recall my place

Renard got smoothly to all fours. Not slowly enough as to be too cautious. Not everyone held themselves with the kind of confidence this man carried, but as far as they were concerned it was always a sign. What exactly it was a sign of varied -- for some it was justified, for some it was most certainly not -- but it was never boring.

Indeed, the joking edge to the stranger's question was audible. Renard gave a soft huff of acknowledgement.

"Oh, a fair amount." They curled their tail tighter over their spine, just for appearances, and let it fall back. "Whatever any akita knows, I suspect." They were not as much dog as this man appeared to be, though -- Renard's father had borne the striping as well, but neither they nor their siblings had shown so much as a trace of it on their coats.

"Ah. Excuse my manners." Renard dipped their head. Just a fraction, just so that they could keep their eyes on the other wolfdog. "Renard." The word hung there, an unspoken request for a name in exchange.