It was only sheer guts that had kept her alive through the big freeze the winter she'd travelled here - that and a knowledge of making shelter and warm clothing. She wasn't entirely a weakling, she was still on the large side of dog, and she had teeth as good as any other, but she was no timber wolf either. He had elevated his hair and tail somewhat aggressively, but she saw no point in posturing back. What could he do to her? In his state, it was probably nerves that made him do such a thing. And apart from the expression that seemed to bristle as much as his fur had been, he didn't seem aggressive, eyes down and a simple introduction. Augustus seemed like the kind of unusual and grandiose name her family went for, and she couldn't help but wonder if he was a distant cousin somewhere on the wolf side: of course that was very unlikely, but you never knew.
Her eyes ran over his wounds with professional detachment. "Had a bad week?" she inquired, voice silken but lacking sympathy, for she was certain it would not be welcomed, or taken seriously. Looked like he'd been to war, not her. He didn't have the benefit of a pack to look after him, though. The life of a loner was far from idyllic, especially when things went wrong. She supposed he could do with the hare more than she could. Her conscience prickled her, but her instincts screamed at her that she needed food too. Indecision, and the fact she had no idea how to get it over to him, kept her from offering for now.
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