Dawn Treader Valley some people think it's a curse

She wheeled, cued by the hawk's dark gaze. Movements of her paws and facial expression mimicked a language, but not one that he understood. Brilliant, though, he thought- for a wolf to come from a culture where communication could happen without making a sound. 

Gently, he shook his head. "I don't know how to speak your language," He admitted regretfully. He doubted very much that a wolf her age would take any interest in teaching someone so much older than her how to speak her language, especially when she didn't seem to trust him. "I'm not a threat." He declared, his posture softening. "I'm Tumbleweed...You can call me Weed, if you want."