Wild Berry Meadow prekär

it must be some curious lack of instinct that has her stare upon the cat with no trace of wariness, for she does not think herself stupid, really. others might disagree, but whatever the reason, there is only stark interest in her bane gaze. her paw thumps to the ground, itch somewhat relieved, for now, and forgotten. it is remarkable how suddenly the not-quite-wolf had appeared, as if having slipped suddenly into existence a short distance away. 

"don' know." came her answer, soft, hoarse. she opens and closes her maw, swallowing at the dryness -- an unexpected side effect of not having exercised her voice in a while. her brow furrows as she takes in the creature a moment longer. almost unconsciously, her hind limb begins to gently scratch the back of her forelimb. "your face 's squashed. why?" there is something resembling concern in her question. she knows she's strange looking, but not quite this strange. the man's scent is sharp, musky, foreign.