Stone Circle It was ninety million hundred fifty thousand hundred feet in the air

"Huh?" asked Burr, perplexed, when Nanook drew up and explained that he wouldn't get any respect from the rocks by being rude to them. What the heck? He barely remembered her as the wolf who had willingly gotten herself wet in the river—even now, Burr had an aversion to water unless he was dirty enough to warrant a bath—but her matter-of-fact tone made him frown. "Rocks can't talk," he rejoined, somewhat arrogantly, but his ears wilted at the tips as he added moments later, "...can they?"

His gaze swung back to the stone, catching on the pretty gleam of russet red that had drawn his attention in the first place. They'd never spoken to him, but now that he thought about it, he couldn't write off Nanook's claim without proof of the opposite. "I dunno," he responded honestly. "I just saw this red stuff and wanted to find more. Cyron will like it if... uh, when he comes home."