the first cut is the deepest

Twig had once made an obsidian knife with a man she met once. She hadn’t forgotten the way he looked at her or spoke to her. In the moment she had been flattered and a bit flushed but when she thought about him now she only felt a bit shameful. Still, the thoughts brought her to thinking she needed a new skinning knife. Somewhere between the volcano erupting and now she lost track of her skinning knife.

She settled in the plains, it felt good to be able to work in the place she considered home. Before her dainty paws were a couple supplies. A nice barkless branch that she hoped to fashion into a handle, a piece of antler shed collected from an old carcass, as well as some tanned leather. This wouldn’t take all that long.. she hoped.