Moonspear run away

Haedwig watched Treepie with a frown, wondering if she had either spooked or bored her from that glazed over expression.

A collar? She raised a brow at the mention of something worn around the dog's neck. They're a mark of the beasts. Shame worthy, certainly. I'd say you should do her a favour and tear it off if she was really so polite, but I don't think you'll see her again. Dogs don't survive long out here. Not alone, they didn't.

Sorry, you probably don't want to hear that. Haedwig pushed out a breath, glancing towards the bear den. I need to rest my bones. A polite way of sending the younger wolf away. Treepie had managed to make a good impression, and Haedwig planned to call on her sooner or later.