Ain't no mountain high enough

From the moment she noticed the strange beast on, she did not allow it to leave her sight. She did not glance away, though she wanted to turn and run. Junkyard Dog remained rooted to the spot, in fear and in curiosity. If there was a beast such as this wandering around, she wanted to be able to report it to the others.

The white beast stepped forward on the bank, and Junkyard Dog held firm, though she wished to shy away. When the creature spoke to her, a sudden voice in the wild, Junkyard Dog started. She lowered her head, hackles raised. The beast continued, asking if she was lost, though it took Junkyard Dog a moment to discern as much. The wolf's language was strange to her, and seemed a grandiloquent dialect of what she and other dogs spoke. This Junkyard Dog did not like, though she still answered.

"No," she lied, because it is never wise to tell monsters your true business, "what are you?"