Blackfeather Woods your blood drool attracts the flies

that seemed to be a hit. the beast would look utterly delighted as if he was a child - a pup - being praised. the woman seemed to understand his words but had posed another question to him. something he could not answer right away. his massive head would tilt, a look of confusion swimming deep in those muddy eyes. who was he? who... was he? he was he. he was here. somehow breathing. somehow alive. though questionable if he even wanted to be. who was he thought? some random wolf. some nobody. 

but -

she meant a... name, right? a name. what was the name? his name? he hadn't even heard it spoken in so long. no pleasant lips ever were graced with it. it was always a cruel word, a lording over and then it was nothing. he was nothing. he didn't mean anything. "mmm" it was a mistake to come. he had no inkling of his name and he couldn't give the nice lady a reasonable reply. she put up with him - because that's what nice ladies do - but he hadn't missed her defensive behavior. "m-ee... me?" he looked lost.  

and suddenly there was a flash of light as he recalled. a soft groan escaped his lips, the moment painful mentally. he'd give a shake of his head, a violent one. teeth crunched together. drool went flying. "Da...Dag...mar? mmm... Dagmar." inside, the laughter of others. inside, always judging. but he gave a reply. he tried to focus on that.