Lake Rodney Where does a mind like yours wonder

Pie didn’t know what Quail meant by “these,” though her attention was soon enough drawn to what looked like a strip of rawhide fastened around her neck, with feathers dangling from it. Something about it set her hackles prickling. How had she not noticed it? Never mind the darkness or Quail’s odd appearance, it was her queerest feature by far.

What is that? she asked, squinting. I’ve seen treated skins turned into blankets or pouches but… I’ve never seen anything like it. How did you get the feathers attached to it?

She was so distracted, Treepie hadn’t entirely registered the other canine’s words. She didn’t want to meet Wyvern, which was fine, considering Tiuttuk wasn’t sure the hawk wanted to meet her either. But why had she been growling at her own kind until recently? What had happened to this poor she-wolf to make her so incredibly strange?