Dawnlark Plains there's treasure everywhere

"A Ditty rhouxabhren?" she repeated with several loud blinks. She had never heard of either the genus nor the species, yet Drag didn't doubt it—despite her scent identification—so much as file this information away in an already teeming cabinet in the back of her mind.

Seizing on something else he'd said, Dragyn took a breath, then informed him, "A Canis latrans"—she enunciated clearly, since he had very badly butchered it—"is a coyote. A Vulpes vulpes is a red fox." She blinked placidly, then smiled. She enjoyed imparting information on others.

"What is that?" the scrawny she-wolf asked in the next beat, eyeballing the bone he was in the midst of burying. Perhaps she could ID that too, though Dragyn was not nearly as adept at identifying remains. She had studied a corpse or two in her day, even taking them apart to see how everything worked, but she was much more experienced with living, breathing identifications.