the potter and clay

Poem made her way to the banks of the delta with a mission in mind, the raven Edgar flew above while her caracal Allen attempted to remain free of moisture and mud. The cat carried a large folded pelt on his back. The yearling Destruction was going to gather clay for her grandmother and the two of them would make pots together. Despite Rhythm’s lack of sight she always made perfect bowls. Poem wasn’t near as good, and she could see hers.

The old woman insisted that practice would help her so the young girl was out, seeking to find the perfect bit of clay to harvest and bring home. Already she had enough covering her pale legs to make a dozen pinch pots. It was messy work, but she was sure the effort would prove worth it.