Deepwood Weald dog friendly bars near me

He was, predictably, charmed by the woman's accent and her obvious otherness. He saw an opportunity to learn more about another way of life — but of course, that would first mean preserving the life of this strange creature. A dog, he realized, like some of the half-breeds he'd met in the desert.

"I can offer you a meal," he replied, his own tail whisking. "And a place to lay your head. If it is a path out of these wilds you seek, I am afraid I will be a little less helpful." He thought he might remember a path back to civilization, but it was not one he was keen to tread.

"Do you have any skills to trade?" he asked her. It didn't matter, truly; she was special, and he could spare what little food it would take to keep her alive. But it did a soul good to contribute to something, and he hoped to bond the creature to their pack. Simbelmyne, too, he remembered, had dog in her bloodline. "My name is Dutch, by the way. Dutch Morningside."