Pale eyes stared hard into the dark water, anticipating it's coldness and depth with a frown. A deep breath rattled through his body as he prepared himself; he knew that he must cross. Just then, though, he was startled by that strange-looking young girl with the mohawk, standing beside him on the shore, on four legs. He knew her from their dinner, too, and as recognition flashed on his face, staring down at her, she spoke, encouraging him.
The last time he had seen her, she had been on two legs, so it took him a moment of awkward staring before he shook his head and stared again at the water, forcing himself to focus on the task. Just cross. That's all. And then... cross again. He swallowed hard, rubbing his face. Not long after Maggie, someone else came, too; a dog whom he vaguely remember as perhaps being present at the dinner, as well. Instantly, Denver brightened a bit; there weren't many dogs around these parts. When the man spoke, his voice was comforting, though he spoke in a strange tongue. The shepherd dog reassured him as the girl had that they would assist, and that the water was nothing to fear. But still, he hesitated, grumbling through a frown.
A strange coyote appeared behind the group, and Denver briefly took notice of him. He was quiet, and did not move to greet them. Head turned back to the sea, and noticed something odd: who was that swimming towards them? Eyes narrowed, and a small wave brought the figure into view. That slave, the one that didn't talk. The one whose tongue had been cut out. Would the wolf even obey Denver? Well, he would certainly try. Being able to cross on the back of the slave would mean that he would only have to worry about getting wet, and not actually swimming. Excited, he moved forward.
"C'mere and help me cross," he demanded nonchalantly, motioning towards the scarred brown wolf in haste and climbing onto his back in the most comfortable way possible. "I don't like gettin' wet," he added gruffly, wrapping his scarf tightly around his neck. There was a command to be inferred here; if the wolf could not hold even his light frame partially out of the water for the short trip, what even was the point of asking for his help?
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