Pot Head

The pair of ladies worked together contentedly. There was little need for endless conversation while they worked, but they spoke here and there. Rhythm brought up Enki and Iolaire chuckled. "He's a pleasure, that's for sure. Roan and I found him trapped beneath a boulder with a fractured paw. He decided to pay us back by staying with us." From his place, the leopard raised his head and spoke one word. "Grateful."

"And I'm grateful to have you," Iolaire affirmed with a nod and a smile.

With one bowl formed, she placed it near enough to the fire so that it could dry before moving on to the next. She attempted to make them all a similar shape. As Rhythm finished her own, the small fae did the same, moving the blind woman's bowls closer to the fire and giving her another chunk. In no time, they were done with the molding bit. Iolaire had scratched a little signature onto the bottom of each of her own bowls so that they could tell them apart.

Rinsing her paws off in the spring, Iolaire began to lay out their lunch. There was some dried, seasoned meat, a few bite sized chunks of raw meat if Rhythm preferred, and some dried fruit in the forms of figs, apples and pears. "Once the clay dries a bit more, I'll place all of the bowls into the fire, moving them slowly closer and closer to the core where it's hottest. Then we just leave them and I'll come back tomorrow once the fire has died out." She would see how many of them broke.