Her head jumped up as she heard leaves rustling and him thud to the ground, the trapped fey even more surprised as she noticed him now seated on the ground. Blue eyes studied him, carefully reading his amicable smile and relaxed body language. She nervously shuffled her feet, it was better and he was right about that, though it killed her to admit it to herself.
Could he possibly know what she was? If he did, what type of danger could she be in? The fact that he found her in the woods in this form meant that there was no way for him to know her true name, which was her main concern. From there, what other danger was there… He could keep her in this form as long as he wants, however, she was already looking at that prospect just on her own. If he realized what she was he could turn around and sell her, though a fey with no true name held little value these days.
He was a wizard… if he were willing to help her, perhaps he could break the curse on collar and release her. Then again, he was a wizard and her kind did not have a good history with them… At this point, there were more benefits if she tried to trust him rather than run.
She heaved a sigh as he spoke to her and let herself lay down, nodding her head when he asked if she could understand him. So he wanted to help her, but he didn’t know about the curse and she had no way to tell him either. Keeping herself low to the ground, she crept over to him, getting close to him before backing up a few steps so she wouldn’t lay on the chain. Newt… Okay… I’ll trust you. The fey nodded again.
Although Newt felt confident in his theory that the creature was not actually a dog, he found it surprisingly difficult not to treat it like one. The impulse to stretch out his hand and give it a few reassuring pets was great. The view unfolding before him was a true picture of misery. Still, Newt resisted. Instead, he knelt down besides the creature, his wand safely tucked away in his chest pocket, and displayed his bare hands.
“I am going to take a closer look at your collar now, alright?”, he asked and finally leaned in.
The collar, he found quickly, looked more like a shackle than anything else. An unassuming metal ring seamlessly wrapping around the dog’s neck, irritating fur and skin. A ring protruded from the side, onto which somebody had attached a metal chain. Newt picked it up. It was heavy, and seemed to be of the same material and craftsmanship as the collar.
“No seams, no lock”, he muttered to himself, as if to take notes. “It hasn’t been closed around the neck, it was already a full ring. But the head....” He gently took the collar in both hands and attempted to push it up over the dog’s ears. “.... does not fit. This can’t be the work of a muggle. No wonder you’re scared of me, hm?” He picked up the chain again and held it to his face. The surface of the metal seemed slightly rough, like iron. Newt sniffed. It also smelled like iron. One testing lick--
“Iron, definitely.” He nodded to himself. This was no coincidence. Pure, cold iron was not considered one of the most potent materials for binding and repellent spells for nothing. Faeries, ghosts, spirits, and in certain circumstances even wizards and witches could be subdued with it. Whoever had collared the creature with this had done so intentionally, and with all the details in mind. “Somebody really did not want you to look like yourself again.”