Despite Alice's best attempts at a sale's-pitch, for assuring the old bat about her own and her companion's ability to handle the task at hand, the elderly lady seemed... Unimpressed. When Alice continued to suggest how the old woman should handle her prized pooch though, the werewolf got a very stern and very annoyed glare, the kind that bores a hole right through your soul and it close to having your neck strangled without it actually being physically choked... Apparently the lady Elmswood didn't appreciate others telling her what to do. Or at least not when it came to Francoise.

Unlike the old crone however, when the werewolf-girl gave the small intruder an oppressive aura of imminent carnivore-presence, the little creature squeaked in terror and fled as fast as its tiny little limbs could move it. Brandy, who had been so focused on said rodent, was also taken aback by the dark, looming vibes that her new friend was exuding, and so the goat-girl's ears flopped backwards and her tail hung doown, and she turned her face sideways to look away - while pouting.

"... I wasn't gonna let it get any of the veggies, jeez..." She mumbled, as if she had been scolded by her mom.

Once that whole business was dealt with, Elmswood told Francoise to go with the girls. The dog lazily looked at its owner, let out a discontent snort through its nostrils, then slowly padded over to Alice's side. AAt which point, the old bag shut the door and promptly locked it, with an audible '[i]click'[/i]-sound. As the terrifying harpy had gone back into her nest, Brandy perked back up, and skipped on over to the side of the two dogs. She looked all over, and from virtually every angle - even below - to inspect and get a good look at Francoise, who remained motionless and uninterested in the antics of the satyress.

"Wow, this mutt is like, 'totes blowing us off. First time I've ever seen such a snooty dog." Said satyress said, with a raised, judgemental eyebrow. "You know any place we can go with this guy?" She added and asked, while poking at one of Francoise's poofy-tipped ears.

Of course,t he area around the village was covered in mostly woodlands, and there were numerous small animal trails and paths, not to mention just raw, sparsely forested wilderness to meander about in. There was also the village proper to go and visit, which likely had less mud, muck and dirt that could get on the poodle. There was also the not-too-far-off brook, which was a common favorite place to play for the local kids and fishing-spot for the elderly. There was also the option of just hitting the road and wandering off into the as-of-not-yet-setting sun and see where their feet would take them.