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: What is that thing anyway? Duncan McKay
: This? It's a tracking device. Irene Stuart
: Great. Could it track down the socks the washing machine has eaten?
: I'm sure he's very nice, he just seems a bit... tweedy, that's all. Duncan McKay
: Tweedy? Irene Stuart
: You know, countryfied. Like he shaves with broken glass and keeps a ferret in his sporran. Duncan McKay
: That's not a ferret in his sporran, he's just pleased to see you.
: Ah, the hunter home from the hill. Lexie McTavish
: Where are they? Golly Mackenzie
: I'm afraid there were no rabbits to be had. Lexie McTavish
: Golly, the estate's overrun. I mean, they breed like... like rabbits.
: I've got to go and check the wolves before I go to bed. Irene Stuart
: Keep the wolf from the door, eh? Duncan McKay
: No, they don't have a door. It's like a hole in the ground. Irene Stuart
: Do you want a hand? Duncan McKay
: No it's kind of muddy up there. Irene Stuart
: I don't mind. Where do they sleep? Duncan McKay
: In a den. Well, the mother will be under the ground with her cub just now. But the really interesting thing is the father wolf goes out to eat and then he comes back to the burrow and regurgitates the food so they can have some. Irene Stuart
: That's so romantic. Duncan McKay
: Is it? Irene Stuart
: You, me, moonlight and the smell of wolf vomit. What more can a girl want?