C'mon Baby Light My Fire

Moving toward the fire Skælingr took a stick in his mouth with a slightly flattened end from the way it had been broken. He used it to poke at the fire, scooting a little bit of ash onto the stick. Swinging his head delicately back around he dumped the ask onto the second half of clay. Setting the stick down he began to massage the clay with his paws, working the ask in. He hoped the temper would help the structure of the pot and he was also curious if it would affect the color at all depending how much he put in.

He listened with interest as Ulric spoke of a volcano that had erupted. He shook his head somberly. "That is terrible. I'm glad I've never had to endure a volcanic eruption. There were a few in my homeland but they've been dormant for decades. Hopefully, it will remain that way."