I am very intent on my own musings and the items I am chewing, which probably explains why I miss his approach. Something alerts me to his presence eventually, whether it is the eeling of eyes looking at me, or a disturbance of the air, or my eyes catching the motion. I steady myself to not jump, blinking rapidly instead, missing some of the words he must be saying. I make out the last word as "lost"... unless he is talking about moss, for a reason I cannot comprehend. Lost was not exactly the word I would use for this foray. I had chosen to leave. "Huh? No." I answer in my most adult tone, probably only slightly more than a hoarse whisper and badly pronounced, considering my lack of recent practice.
Mostly I am annoyed at the unexpected company, but thankful he looks more friendly than hungry, given his low position and that he is trying to communicate rather than stalk or attack. "Who're you?" I say in a half-growl, half-yip. The pieces of stick are laying between my large feet, no longer being chewed but not yet forgotten. I eye his larger form, not particularly confident I could take him, even if I wanted to. There are set backs to being a pup.
female|0|none|no one|no home
|