Youth vs Experience

She gave a small wiggle, grateful to Resin for the gift of the whetstone. That was one thing taken care of. Her ears rotated towards the woman as she explained how to prepare the stone for sharpening her blades, committing the details to memory. She made a note of getting a small bowl later, for storage and for soaking the whetstone when the time came to sharpen her blades.

Mal watched carefully, then, when Resin demonstrated with one of her own claws, sliding the blade over the whetstone with control and precision. She made several passes over each side as the yearling watched. It might not have looked all too different to the naked eye, but she'd bet anything the cut would be sharper, now. Her ears twitched at the woman's explanation of simply knowing when they needed to be sharpened, but she accepted it. She would've liked an exact answer -- she could run with that -- but, some things just came down to experience, the time put in.

Then, the stone was passed over. Mal gripped her own claws, tucking the others back as Resin had done to expose a single blade. She pressed down on the whetstone, finding it to be a bit slippery on the first pass and going a little faster than expected. Brows furrowed, she went again, more carefully this time as she smoothed the blade down the whetstone, with little stops and starts here and there that quickly subsided as she slowly got used to the rhythm. She may have done a few strokes more than necessary, unsure when to stop.

"Like that?" She would check in with the woman before having a go at the rest of the blades; gods knew they hadn't been sharpened since the day she was gifted with them.