The Mongrel was not just a mongrel - she also had masochistic habits befitting of such a mongrel. How fitting. 

Gilgamesh had considered this day rather interesting. He had been confronted with a great source of power, had been taken to a world which sought to sabotage him by it's very nature, had battled a mongrel who had barked harder than he initially believed she would bite and had been confronted with a force that looked like Enkidu. 

However, from their battle, their confrontation in which Gilgamesh tested the waters, he had come to one conclusion: 

It was not Enkidu. 

No matter how much he had hoped it was so, it was not Enkidu, but a force of nature that was similar in appearance. Gilgamesh would admit that there was a glimmer of hope, and that was why he had given him that much freedom. But the illusion was no gone - the force of nature Gilgamesh had battled was not Enkidu. It was something else entirely. What it was, Gilgamesh did not know nor did he particularly care. It was not Enkidu. 

Having been dropped off at a forest, Gilgamesh could not help but give a small smirk. It seemed like today was just full of surprises. Surprises were good - they kept him from becoming bored. However, his amusement quickly turned to displeasure when he recognized one of the presences he had been put near. Namely, the mongrel who constantly rose up to bite harder than he expected her to. 

Entering a spiritual form to completely erase his presence from the physical world, Gilgamesh headed towards the source of the presence and came across what was definitely a gathering of mongrels. From what he observed, the mongrels were about to fight. Some of them had weapons drawn and were attempting to make meagre insults at each other. 

Good. 

Fight.

Entertain the King. 

If they could not do so; if one sided turned out to dominate the other, then the King himself would interfere. After all, he had to extract some modicum of entertainment, did he not?