He glares at the stranger, sitting up for only a moment before slumping forward over crossed legs. He's wearing a shirt, shorts and a backpack, but they're difficult to distinguish if you aren't expecting them. They're made of grass the same way that Fern is.

"Of course I'm real. What kind of person gives a dog as a present?"

In his world dogs are people, just like him. They can't seem to talk here, but they're still people, right?