Wapun Meadow New is always better

Merlin turned his head to face the dark wraith that was approaching him without a greeting or warning, only the sound of footfalls in the mud giving away it's direction and purpose. Had he met her in spring, he would have run for the hills, now months spent in the rough and merciless environment, created by wolves, who cared not for either boundaries or limits, had given him the necessary immunity to handle these situations. 

He met her, standing tall and confident, his tail held high as well, wagging though to indicate a friendly disposition, and he politely stepped away from her to keep that polite distance between them, when she went straight for him to sniff. He canted his head slightly, as if to remind her - we should play by rules, miss - and waited for her response. At this point he did not think that words were necessary, unless the lady herself uttered them first.