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Message: <blockquote data-quote="97mg" data-source="post: 7446106" data-attributes="member: 6799460">Moving closer to the campsite, the occasional twig cracks under the ranger’s boots because his attention is elsewhere, as he works himself up for some canine dialogue.The site is definitely temporary the party might assume as they linger a safe distance off behind Dain. A dying fire, some quickly erected shade-cloth, a few basic necessities laid out at the slumbering human’s side. A pot and pan, a few wineskins, a bedroll and a pack. A middle-aged man with long tangles of salt and pepper hair sleeps soundly beneath the cloth’s shade, several loaves of fresh flame-licked bread resting nearby on a small towel. He murmurs in his sleep and snorts, before rolling to his side, head resting against a small half-filled sack.The old hound’s daydream of wild grasses under-paw, and the winking of a white cottontail as it darts down a burrow, are interrupted by a welcoming howl. It's eyes open, before the mangy head turns to look at Dain. A long yawn, rows of yellowed teeth and a few drops of slobber hit the earth, before it sits up on its front legs.“We same. Pack. Move through. Soon people, long sleep, and much meat, maybe my own blanket. Your pack, smell strange! Master always walking, I keep him safe. Master calls me Masto. Masto kills ugly thing for Master, then we run.”Masto gets up then, and the rest of the group watches as he circles Dain, gets a good sniff of a ranger-shaped bum, and then quietly barks a few times.“I smell jerky. And fox. Fox annoying!”It has been a while since you’ve seen the vixen, probably not since crossing the river.</blockquote>

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