Moonspear Don't discard me just because you think i mean you harm

Alaric was paw deep in soil and loam. Nearby some herbs and plants he'd found with their roots still intact wrapped in wet leaves until he could put them in the ground. 

Mud was up to his elbows and there was dirt marring his black muzzle. Fur was all every which way, his tongue poking between lip and fang.

But he was content. Happy even as he worked.