At the sound of very distinctly canine sneezing, Ned sits up. He didn't think there were any dogs in town; his mind jumps to the dire wolves that are supposed to roam around in the woods. Surely he isn't far in enough for it to be one of those? They hadn't come bothering him last night, so why would they be bothered now?

He stands up just in time to see the wolf making an irritated noise and swiping at its nose with one paw. Ned can't help but smile at that. It's such a Digby-ish gesture, and it makes him miss home with a sharp pang. His fear vanishes as quickly as it came. The wolf is alone, and there's nothing dire about it.

"Sorry, buddy," Ned apologizes warmly, dropping into a squat. He watches the wolf with bright interest, staying still, not wanting to spook it. The smile that he uses on animals isn't like the one he uses on people; it is bright and unreserved, all teeth and crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, extending one hand in the wolf's direction, slowly, in case he feels inclined to test Ned's scent. He isn't stupid; he keeps an eye on the animal for any signs of fear and aggression, but its body language is all wrong for an imminent attack.