Fox's Glade Touch my soul with yours

"you don't look it" the thing was interested in her, or the kill, and made it's way closer. Dawn watched impassively, fox dropping at her feet to rest below a paw, a subtle sign of her claim on it. the dog - that's what it was, she realized with a start, like the thing Murdock had had, but different - looked at least part wolf; but she didn't particularly care about a canid's ancestry.

I'm Dawn. pausing once, surveying, before continuing. "do you have a name, wolf-dog?" she included the latter only as a means of confirming her thoughts, knowing that if it was met with confusion or anger she was, very likely, wrong in her assumption.