No, It's Not a Clay Pigeon

Wyndelin strode forward dragging his travois full of sticks, kindling and even some larger chunks that could be called logs. He was hoping to make a nice fire and just relax for the afternoon. As he was traveling he noticed the wolf he'd been crafting with during the scholars circle. He quickly padded over and decided to properly introduce himself. "Hey there, remember me? It's Wyndelin. I'll get a fire going for us." He didn't know if the other man planned to fire his clay or not.

The first task was to dig a fire ring. Wyndelin got to work, claws scraping and shoveling dirt as he worked to scrape grass and earth away. He worked until he had a rough oval set where he could begin to build his fire. Well, almost. Wyndelin kept digging until the fire pit was at least a few inches deep.