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When her perspective on the mysterious-smelling animal changed as he unfurled, she knew him for what he was: small, canine-like, red and cream like she but smaller to the point that she would have been tempted to treat him like a puppy, or a toy, except then he spoke and her eyes flew open. No longer reverent, she blurted "Oh - do they? I mean, I never smelled a fox before." Otherwise she would have known. Well, of course. She only knew now from some early lessons and descriptions of various fauna. She laid back her ears, unconscious that her flustered expression gave her away as little more than a puppy. "Was that rude of me? I didn't know you could speak." Not in high at least - she knew other animals had ways to communicate, but they did not seem to have what she called language. Neither of her dialects, French and English, at least. Or maybe this was a dream - sometimes talking animals came to you in dreams, she'd heard, to give guidance. Unaware of being intrusive she came a little nearer, nose outstretched, like a curious dog unable to resist inviting the lash of a threatened cat's claw.





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