Haunted Wood and the rest be sent to hell

Clarence made short work of sliding out from the pile of snow, rolling clumsily onto his side before standing up and shaking his head to get the rest of the ice off his muzzle. The man before him was speaking, and apparently thought him to be a pup. Clarence wasn't sure what age he was, but he was pretty positive he wasn't a pup. Still, he regarded the man with a polite smile, ignorant to the eyes scanning over his scars.

"I'm Clarence," he introduced when asked, curled tail wagging slightly. This guy seemed pretty nice. "We're in the same pack, right? Because I'm supposed to chase out people who don't belong here, I think." He was going to be bad at the guarding the territory part of belonging to a pack, he was sure of it.

What this man didn't know was that Clarence was not a soldier. He was a weapon.

"Where are your folks?" Was he asking about Clarence's parentage? The boy wasn't completely sure, but that was his best guess. "I don't know. Where are yours?" he asked, unsure if that was the correct response or not.