"Good, good -- Cat, was it?"

He keeps a steady voice, though he flinches back a bit when the wolf steps closer; it's instinctual, every fiber of his being on alert. He's seen werewolves and shapeshifters and all the in-betweens, but wolves aren't off the table for 'dangerous'. They're just less supernaturally so. Regardless, she seems to have a very strange hold on the creature. If she can command it? Sammy'll just have to worry about danger of a different breed: there's someone out there still shooting. He inches Thranduil carefully toward Nymeria when she offers the wolf as transport, but keeps his eyes on Arya. He speaks carefuly, gently -- not so much that she's a kid, because she clearly knows her way around, but because he's so used to keeping a cautious voice toward 'civilians'.

"Listen, Cat. The person who did this is still out there, and there could be more hurt people; will you be able to take him there by yourself?"

He has to go back out there. He's got no choice. There could be untold damage, lives in the balance, hell -- probably even lost.

"Can I trust you with that?"

Because he will. She looks just as old as he was when he started helping in hunts.