the night we met

Dova had to agree with her companion's logic. They had hardly lost their milk teeth, and in the face of danger, there was not much they could do in terms of self defense. While Sinclair's plan to provide a distraction while Dova escaped, if worse came to worst, she could not imagine simply abandoning her friend, even if a larger part knew that it would be no good if they were both dead. In similar fashion, she could not help but wonder what if it had been her who happened upon a pair of puppies. Looking around, she could see no other wolves hiding behind the weathered slabs of stone, and smell nothing more interesting aside from the pup she stood alongside.

"But Sinclair," She began anew in that same, worried tone. "What if they're lost? Or lonely?" She lowered her head, her whole body seeming to droop downwards in a pout, as if to make up for the lack of expression she could manage with her stunted tail; a gesture as if to say, 'Remember when we were lost and lonely?' It was not so long ago that someone had helped them find their way out from a similar situation.

And perhaps where the growing boy was cautious, Dova was bold—maybe oblivious, more often than not. Resurfacing from her thoughts fraught with worry, she turned her attention back to the mahogany silhouette, her afflicted gaze staring evenly for several heartbeats. "It would be rude not to say hello first, and then we can go back to hunting." She mused decidedly, manners like a princess. With a gentle smile tugging at her maw, she took a step forward, before suddenly turning back. "Remember, if things get bad, I'll run while you make a cool distraction." Offering a playful wink from her star-struck eye, Dova skipped off, barking a friendly greeting at the stranger.

If one thing was certain: Death himself could come to collect, and Dova would greet him with the serene wholeheartedness she did with anyone else.