Dodge flashed his best grin, glancing between the little girl and the man who must have been her father. The guy was smiling, and five hells, the relief at friendly faces was almost overwhelming, even if it was a scary looking guy with a face tattoo and a shy little toddler that mistook him for a puppy. Who got face tattoos anyways? Dodge was one for theatrics but... he iwardly cringed - keep the needles away from his face, thanks.
Dodge gratefully accepted the offered help, but he released a long hiss at the effort of rising to his feet. Dodge's anxious heart rate was settling into something a little more steady now, though he shivvered as rain rolled down bare skin, soaking into his bandages. He tilted his head, sopping hair falling to one side as the friendly stranger lifted that litle girl up on his shoulders.. and then he carefully started leading them to where he'd seen the familiar shine of honeyed hair.
Dodge frowned deeply at the presented question, his brow creasing as he stared hard at the ground before them. "I dunno," he finally answered honestly. It unsettled him - the wound on his back was large and neatly stitched, though it bled just barely from his little outburst. That meant it had to be bad, yea? He didn't remember getting hurt... he remembered Isla though. Remembered her face appearing in front of his while was laying face down...
The coyote glanced up at the pair. "Me memory's a little mussed, aye?" he quipped. "Ye don't appen to know what the fu....fuzz is goin' on?" He glanced at the little girl with a sheepish smile to the man before he looked up at the toddler again. "Wot 'bout you, eh? You bring us all here for a playdate? Alls ye gotta do is ask, I's real good at fetch."
As they neared the tent, suddenly a voice that was like a gods-damned angel's rang out and carried his name. He perked up and grinned with relief as Isla greeted them, but the worry on her face twisted his chest. He wasn't anyone that needed to be worried after. He shrugged a little at her observation of his wounds, and while he tried to protest the offered coat, he swore the doc was more stubborn than a certain grouchy old bird he knew. "I's alright," he promised her with a lopsided smile. Really it only hurt especially when he moved - it was easy to ignore the ache and even forget it if he was still. "But uh... ye don't appen to remember.. how I got hurt, do ye?"
Then he looked over at the man and the little girl and grinned. "Oh! This is..." then he trailed off, pursed his lips, and crossed his arms over his chest. "Oy, I ain't even got yer names!"
Kalt
Dodge gratefully accepted the offered help, but he released a long hiss at the effort of rising to his feet. Dodge's anxious heart rate was settling into something a little more steady now, though he shivvered as rain rolled down bare skin, soaking into his bandages. He tilted his head, sopping hair falling to one side as the friendly stranger lifted that litle girl up on his shoulders.. and then he carefully started leading them to where he'd seen the familiar shine of honeyed hair.
Dodge frowned deeply at the presented question, his brow creasing as he stared hard at the ground before them. "I dunno," he finally answered honestly. It unsettled him - the wound on his back was large and neatly stitched, though it bled just barely from his little outburst. That meant it had to be bad, yea? He didn't remember getting hurt... he remembered Isla though. Remembered her face appearing in front of his while was laying face down...
The coyote glanced up at the pair. "Me memory's a little mussed, aye?" he quipped. "Ye don't appen to know what the fu....fuzz is goin' on?" He glanced at the little girl with a sheepish smile to the man before he looked up at the toddler again. "Wot 'bout you, eh? You bring us all here for a playdate? Alls ye gotta do is ask, I's real good at fetch."
As they neared the tent, suddenly a voice that was like a gods-damned angel's rang out and carried his name. He perked up and grinned with relief as Isla greeted them, but the worry on her face twisted his chest. He wasn't anyone that needed to be worried after. He shrugged a little at her observation of his wounds, and while he tried to protest the offered coat, he swore the doc was more stubborn than a certain grouchy old bird he knew. "I's alright," he promised her with a lopsided smile. Really it only hurt especially when he moved - it was easy to ignore the ache and even forget it if he was still. "But uh... ye don't appen to remember.. how I got hurt, do ye?"
Then he looked over at the man and the little girl and grinned. "Oh! This is..." then he trailed off, pursed his lips, and crossed his arms over his chest. "Oy, I ain't even got yer names!"
