Dawn Treader Valley some people think it's a curse

A small wave came from his tail when he learned the truth. Speaking would do him no good, then. He wondered to what extent a name would even aid him, as he couldn't speak it to her, and there were presently no tumbleweeds rolling by...And he might not even be capable of properly gesturing that Tumbleweed was what he was called. He figured she might figure a name for him in her own mind- and in his, he christened her Citrine*.

She was in possession of something very valuable- an entire language, he hypothesized, that could be useful when communicating with members of his pack, in a way outsiders couldn't understand. She was young, perhaps young enough she ought to be returned to her family but she certainly didn't look terribly lost. What she might be, he assumed, was hungry. 

Perhaps including her in a regular task might make her more amenable, and likely to share her secrets with him. 

He licked his lips and tilted his nose up, so he could start scenting. His nostrils flared and he took a couple steps forward, led by a faint aroma. He turned his amber gaze to her for a moment, and gestured to see if she could smell it too. 

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*Author's note: If Tumbleweed had known that Towhee Jr was the exact replica of her mother, he might have called her Neo-Citrine instead and considered her a remedy for the common cold.