Pot Head

Her bowl was near finished as they talked about the leopard who was saved from certain death. Rhythm turned her attention to the cat and offered him a smile despite not quite looking where he was seated. Iolaire took her finished bowl, ”Have you told me about Roan?” She asked as the woman returned her attentions to the fire and began to explain the next process. ”Your man?” Iolaire would have to forgive her memory if she had spoken about him before.

Rhythm perked her silver marked ears as Io offered up lunch and explained what she was doing with the fire and the slow process of firing their pieces. ”Im tempted to meet you here, but I don’t think I can manage another trip so soon after this one.” She tried to chuckle lightly, but her arthritis was no joke. ’You should meet my granddaughter, Poem. She’s been working hard to become a decent potter. She tells me her pots aren’t as pretty as mine.” She tried to change the subject to mostly keep her mind off how sore she was.