Silverlight Terrace Do I look fat in this dress?

The woman, who revealed her name to be Toad, flashed a gleeful smile as she drew near. Her mannerisms were personably unique, friendly in nature. In contrast, Tahoe was rather a stoic man himself, and chose not to over-engage. He respectfully listened to her response, his posture relaxed. She seemed easy to converse with, perhaps she knew a thing or two. Most notably, he swore he could detect the smell of other lupines amidst the scent of grass on her fur. It was mere speculation though, but he put a wealth of trust in his nose—it never lead him astray. 

I see. Rain wasn' so bad back inland. Must’a been mighty rough down by the coast durin’ the worst’f it, though. He responded gruffly. He was glad that the sun decided to make its reappearance. This was a momentary pleasure, however. The days were beginning to fall shorter and shorter—autumn was approaching.

Name's Tahoe. What earn’d ya a name like that, Toad? He went on to inquire, his tone simplistic, yet laced with a tinge of amusement.