Weight on my chest

Áskell patted his clay flatter until it was the thickness he wanted. He picked up a little stick in his teeth and then used it to cut out a wobbly little shape for a spearhead. Áskell scrapped the excess clay away and left the spearhead to begin drying.

He caught the shit from was to is as the woman named her friend but he didn't have quite enough perception yet to know what it really meant. He did gather that this was a painful subject so when she changed it he went along with. "Nope, I'm from the east where the volcano is. My dad's just taking me on a trip. What about you?"

He turned his attention to the feather. Picking up the larger stick he was going to use for the little dart he placed it between his paws. This was fine work he couldn't quite manage so his magpie ran the sides of fletching in a sticky sap from a nearby tree then stuck it to the stick with his beak. When all sides of fletching were attached the pup carefully stuck it in the sand so the sap could dry.