Bramblepoint compassionate heart without a dollar to mend

All she heard was a yelp. Her ears were alert, worried it might be one of the various members of the Glen or Moonspear or even Wraen's new crowd. There were so many friendly faces in the area, Toad knew that the likelihood this was someone from one of the allied packs was very strong. So, she popped out of her hiding place, startling the colony of rabbits she'd been hunting into their holes. Disregarding the lunch she'd planned, she made a quick beeline toward the sound.

When Toad found the source, she found it was an unfamiliar young man with shadowy brown fur trying, rather desperately, to pull a thorn from his foot. Toad had been there. She made a face, and chuckle-snorted rather abruptly. Sorry, it's funny because this has totally happened to me before, she said. As though she already knew him, she strode up very casually to inspect the thorn, pausing only when two yards or so away out of respect.

Can I see? She asked, tilting her head a bit. He didn't smell like...anyone she knew. This was a bit confusing. She wondered how he'd found his way nested between multiple packs of particularly high-alert wolves. Toad should have had her guard up, but instead, she just waved her tail, friendly as usual.