[ Victorian London. As if it were something out...of a history book. It's strange to hear that phrase, though Vanessa's expression hardly betrays this.

It's a natural question, but there's a bit of sadness dragging at her answer. ]

Not in London. I told you of the moors— [ A distant crunching sound gets her to pause, but there's nothing off about it so she continues on. ] —of the West Country holding fond memories for me. A friend there taught me this, amongst other tricks of survival.

[ She stalks around some nearby bushes, then crouches down to check. The snare here is undisturbed, but she'll still nod for Clara to come and see the set-up of the wire looping between the two branches. ]

She wasn't one to have anything handed to her.