Barrow Fields Oh, can you extract me from my plastic fantasy

"Dirt? Huh, that's a new one," Wraen felt just as baffled by the russet wolf's reply as he obviously was by the whole talk-to-the-stranger-and-try-not-to-make-fool-of-yourself deal. That made two of them. She looked down at her paws, wondering, if there was something particular about this dirt that she should be aware of, but tossed this idea away immediately. Dirt was dirt. Plain and simple.

"Can you be more specific? Stuff can mean so many different things," she asked now, just to tease him a little, and gave a little pretence of being entirely clueless and innocent about the inquiry. "Me... I was doing the opposite - looking at the stuff slowly," she replied. "What's the rush?"