Greatwater Lake belongs to the sand

An excited confirmation had Rowan grinning and tail thumping.
They were making headway at least. They could understand bits of each other. More words meant more to learn.
To potentially understand.

This dainty floof was called Imaq and came from the north.
She crept closer, daring to ignite friendship fully. She was tiny. Smaller than any of the wolves he'd seen. Real wolves.
She was mixed with some things that made her pelt patchy and ears flop.
He found it sort of fetching, though.

She sniffed his scent, and he did too, inhaling the scent that marked her as alone. A female, older than him. He almost touched her, wanting to see how thick her plushness really was when her tongue swiped across his maw.
Rowan touched his nose to hers, his own tongue lapping her.
Friends.

She pulled back to talk. To share more; no, to ask about him.
"Rowan," he replied, then tilted his head back to the woods, catching the dark splotch of a shadow in the distance. "Home. Woods." He stood, turning to the side to show her, to invite her along with him with a tilt and bow of his head and soft wag of his tail.
Even if his words didn't work, his body would.