The crows don't seem to have anything to say about this, and unless she spends a few minutes searching the trees instead of tending her fragile new fire she's going to have a hard time being sure they're even still there.

She will actually leave her fragile new fire to look around for the crows.

Two are still there, the dino-crow and one of the others, though they hop out of sight when they see she's spotted them. The third is either gone or too well hidden for her to find. The fire is back down to embers when she gets back to it, but she can build it up again with some work.

Aw, okay. Back to the grind, then. With an eye out for the crows if they decide to investigate again.

They don't. The rabbit is tasty, at least.

Small mercies. Phaidra will take the time to create a circle of stones around the fire. She definitely wouldn't want to validate the crows' fears by causing a forest fire. She spends the rest of the day time trying to gather more food and thinking about her own kind of magic. And the local kind of magic.

Toward evening, she returns to her campsite with an armful of greens to discover that her fire has gone out and the area around it is disturbed. Her other food supplies haven't been bothered, though.

Sigh. Does it look like the work of crows or someone more humanoid? And presumably there is some salvageable firewood that she can use to ignite the fire again later.

There aren't any obvious signs of humanoids. The fine tinder she needs to start a new fire has been scattered, but the larger pieces of wood haven't been disturbed, and tinder isn't hard to come by at the edge of the forest.

Alright. She doesn't have a lot of experience with wilderness, but this wilderness is sure convenient. Once she feels there is enough food for her not to starve if she focuses a day on doing something else, Phaidra will try to figure out some magics she can do on her own.

Back in her world, they were extracting magic from yet another universe to create rituals that were unprecedentedly powerful. But people still used rituals with less impactful results, they just needed to use what they had on hand. In her own case, this means either herself or figuring out how tap into the local magic. She dismisses the second one as dangerous. For one, she is not sure if she can do that without taking the magic from something else, and that might as well be one of the friendly crows. Better stick with what she knows.

So, having herself as the only source of power. And given how much the language barrier has been an issue, she tries figuring out translation. The crows friends can do, but again, she is unwilling to tap their magic. But her own world has translation magic as a gift. Knowing that she needs to work small, she decides to figure out a short and brief ritual for single "words".

Externally, it will look like the odd Giant creature is doing a lot of sitting still, thinking.

The sun begins to set.

A large black and tan dog wanders in, following the scent of meat, and pauses at the edge of the campsite, tail wagging.

By that point she has started trying to get the fire going, upon noticing the dog she retrieves a morsel of rabbit meat and tosses at it. "Hello, doggy."

The dog leaps to catch the morsel in midair and then comes over to see if there's more where that came from.

Phaidra ponders, but decides, to offer more. She is careful to make the air around not smell like blood and to clean her hands from any trace of it.

The dog will eat as much as Phaidra will give her, and then curls up to watch her work.

Aww, she will give it a pet. And go back to tending her fire while mentally trying to figure out single-word translation.

The rest of the evening will be quiet, then.

She will curl up over her clothes and try to sleep soon enough.

She gets maybe an hour of sleep before she's woken by growling.

...What?

It seems that her new canine friend has caught one of the crows sneaking up on her fire; the dog is bearing down on the bird, trapping him between herself and the rocks surrounding it, and glancing over to the giant every few seconds as if waiting for instructions.

"No, no." Phaidra approaches. Is the bird hurt? "Back away?" She tells the dog, while gesturing for him to step back.

The dog hesitates, but steps back, and the crow takes the opportunity to fly away.

"I am sorry!" She yells at the dark night. Then after a sigh, she looks back at the dog...

...Phaidra knees down to his level. "Don't hurt people, okay?" Head pat?