Ain't no mountain high enough

>:D

Junkyard Dog mistook the moment of realization for some precursor to an attack, and started, flinching, at the outburst. Then she actually listened to the wolf's words, and though they provided little true comfort, Junkyard Dog could relax just a bit knowing that she was not in immediate danger. Still, she was tense, watching the beast with keen eyes. "Yes, I am dog," she replied, seemingly proud, "silly girl." It was not the best idea to continue needling at the wolf, but it was all Junkyard Dog knew to do. Sharp words and a sharp tongue could sometimes negate the need for sharper teeth.

"You cannot give what I seek," she repeated, spitting vitriol. All of those things she wanted, yes, but above all she wanted comfort. Safety. Her heart yearned for routine, for purpose. Junkyard Dog listened intently, because anything the wolf told her, she could report back to the others. Forewarned is forearmed. She would arm herself as she could, though her mind was slow.

At the mention of Men she tossed her head. Despite her fear and hatred of them, she still held the intense loyalty to them that had been bred into her kind for thousands of years. "I have no Man. I have no safety. Here I will die. It matters not. In my days, I was a good dog." This was her only comfort, and it offered her little warmth. But in the days she had a master, he loved her, and she was a good dog to him.