somewhere out there

Roadkill didn't really fancy the idea of this wolfdog chap sitting down next to her, and she remained standing as he sat, finding it the smarter idea to stand ready to run if need be. She wasn't so sure she'd outrun the fellow, but, well, she knew a dirty trick or two that'd ensure he wouldn't be thinking of following her right off the bat.

It seemed that the wolfdog was enticed by her stories, though, wanted to know more now. "Wolfdogs, Oi know 'em," said Roadkill. "One of my owners had a bunch of woldogs, 'e did. Agressive lot, closer to wild dogs 'n fightin' dogs if y'ask me." Still thirsty, Roadkill licked her lips and looked at the wolfdog. "Furless beings? Y'don't mean owners, do you?" That's all Roadkill had ever known them as, anyway, the furless two-legged beings. Owners. Good 'n bad ones, but in her case, mostly bad ones.