The Sunspire Get boozy, boozy, boozy

Her eyes traced every contour of the clod, the chinks of missing dirt and the rocks jutting from it. Small grey stones spiked asymmetrically out of it at the corners, while tinier brown and black pebbles dotted the rough surface. Wisp's nose worked curiously as she wobbled in place, eyes glued to it. How did it get there? Where was it from? What would it look like smashed apart? What did it taste like? What could she do with a shape like that?

Wisp was so hyper-focused on the chunk of dirt that Wraen's approach went almost unnoticed. She didn't heed the adult checking on her, nor did she seem to notice the countershaded Beta when she leaned down to sniff the clump. Wisp just side-stepped, never taking her eyes off the fascinating object, until she was able to see it properly again, and leaned forward on her toes to continue her dramatic staring.

What was it made of?