The Bracken Woods can't keep me down

Although she was frozen in the faceplant for only a few seconds, Dua could have sworn she'd aged about four years in the time it took for her to realise what had happened. Before she'd had the chance to retract from the unflattering and somewhat uncomfortable position, a voice met her ears and she hastily flipped herself up into a seated position, flecks of mud and debris dropping from her face as her ears twitched. She was pleased to see that the dark wolf has a kind face. Lifting a paw to swipe at the dirt and twigs entangled in her fur, Dua batted them out as best as she could. "I'm uh... good, I think," she responded sheepishly. And she was fine, other than mildly embarrassed. (And inwardly seething that she was dirty.)

Cocking her head to the side, she brushed the side of her face and one ear with her paw, continuing to try and remove the remaining few twigs and whatever else was stuck in there. "Dirt for breakfast, I don't know how the plant eaters do it. Not for me," she added, followed by a chuckle and a light sigh. For a vast majority of the time in which the young wolf had been travelling thus far, she'd had limited contact with other wolves -- not by any choice of her own, it just seemed that many routes she'd found herself following didn't happen to run near any populated areas. She'd been enjoying the peace, being a wolf of few words, but she'd also missed the daily chat her old pack mates had provided her with. For this reason, she offered the young wolf a smile and a flick of her tail.