[P] Frayed
<"I'm just saying that you need more than the few dresses you have. You should try and commission someone to make you a few more,"> Camille had said after Maephis had stepped around a bush and into the open clearing that spaced between one section of the woods and into the next. There were moments when the woods grew so thick that there had been little chance at getting through other than slashing it with a blade which neither of the two had thought to bring, at least one large enough to combat the vegetation and give them a route through. She had smelled the water at that last bend in the path, a stream near by where the two could have stopped in turn for a small break and a tiny rest on their way to New Caledonia.

She had torn that dress she wore on the day she had tried to help heal one of her pack members in light of the attack of a hungry cougar that had raked him with its claws. Tearing her clothes had always been an after thought to ensuring that they were safe and sound, their wound clean so that it did not grow infected. She had seen him days later, looking more than fine despite the wound that could have been worse for wear. That was the day he had helped her replace some of the floor boards in that home of hers that was new to her as Camille was. "I know, I know, but I don't have much as it is. Just the ones I showed you back at your camp," Maephis had replied with a small shift of her weight from leg to the other.

She had heard it then, the rumbling of a spring nearby. The two were close and it wouldn't have taken long to find their way. She had turned from her friend and roamed in the direction of the sound. She typically made a note to take notice of her surroundings but for some reason, had only focused upon her new friend in the short span it had taken her to get to the stream.
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It always amazed the shepherd dog how fast deers could run.

Despite the extra training helping to give him some better endurance and not starving nowadays, Wally's chances of keeping up with his prey were still rather low. What probably annoyed him the most was the fact the only two ways he could potentially keep up his speed was to revert on all fours or get longer legs; the former was something he never tried and doubted he could ever do and the latter becoming less and less possible as he got older.

As he continued forward, trying to catch his breath, he eventually got out of the foliage and found himself standing in front of a spring. The sight helped to make him realize how parched he was and without much hesitation got down to it and started gulping water down. Part of him wanted to be cautious, but the constant threat of getting killed back in Casa frayed at his wariness. Sure, there were some fish issues earlier this year, but it's been a while and he didn't see any dead fish here. Sure, there could also be attackers but he had his new glaive, he could fend them off.

As he continued satiating his thirst, he eventually became aware of someone else. His eyes shifting to the side, he noticed an approaching grey-furred coyote. This was enough for the shepherd dog to finally get his muzzle out of the water, sitting back as his attention went to the approaching pair. What were they doing out here? Moving the glaive to a more comfortable position, he raised a hand in greeting. "Afternoon," he said, wondering what these two were planning.
She had been thin when she'd first joined New Caledonia but a life on your lonesome where there were very few chances at food other than what you made of it had been her reasoning. She had never been especially good at hunting. Her mother had taught her how to use traps but she had never really gotten hands-on training with that either. She knew how to make a snare and net trap but that was about the extent of her training in regards to obtaining extra food. Typically, the height advantage offered by snaring something in one of those net traps was enough for her to easily get a kill or so one would have thought. Truth of the matter was that she had Camille now and Camille was enough of a hunter for the both of them.

It was not just Maephis who had approached, though, but her and Camille since the two were still on their way back to New Caledonia after the two had met on that beach. They had been taking their time, making slow progress so that the two could get to know one another before they reached the borders back home and she needed to call someone from the pack to give her permission to join. She hadn't quite noticed the stranger yet as the two had approached but it had been made rather clear that someone was there when a voice and a raised hand moved to garner their attentions.

Blue eyes had risen from the water to the stranger, Camille's own nearly orange gaze having followed suit. Between the both of them, they had noticed the glaive as well. Instinctively, Maephis had reached for her knife only for that hand to have drawn back to her side as she second guessed her decision that the stranger was a danger. "We didn't mean to intrude. I heard the water and I was thirsty as well. This is Camille," she'd stated as her hand swept back to acknowledge the Aussie looking hybrid. "I'm Maephis. What's your name?"
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He did notice the movement of the coyote's arm, but didn't bring too much attention to it. If it was a weapon, he should be capable of avoiding it, but he didn't make any move to ready his polearm.

Instead, he made a bit of a grin. "Guess t'at makes two of us..." He shifted a bit as he listened to their introductions, trying to get into a more comfortable position. "Don't worry 'bout it, I've jus' stopped here me-self." He made an embarrassed chuckle. "I chased a deer up here, prolly should've stopped way far back." He allowed his gaze to wander towards the sky.  "Call me Wally. W'at brings t'a two of ye out here?" He couldn't see either of them having anything to take down prey and they didn't seem to be wandering. Did they live in the area? He might ask them later.

With the initial greetings said, his eyes moved to Camilie. She seemed to be more of a dog and was the shorter of the two, though both of them easily towered over the shepherd dog. His eyes drifted back to the coyote's dress, interest forming in his eyes. He wondered who stitched it together, and what methods they implemented. It seemed to have been worn towards the ground, reminding the cavalier of the condition of his own pants when he came into the area.

He pointed at the worn parts of her dress. "I'm guessin' ye ran into a bit of trouble?" As he continued to look at it, it seemed like it was torn more regularly instead of a bit of it getting caught on something. The thought was enough to make the shepherd dog frown, wondering what caused it to tear. was it to allow for a better ease of movement?

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