spin me right round

His attitude was... different. Fable had become so accustomed to Abaven's welcoming nature that Gilgamesh completely dumbfounded her. Even though she might argue otherwise, the yearling was exceptionally sheltered. However, she'd come out here with a goal - her very own stewing bowl - and if nothing else, Fable was a completionist. Once she got his name, she nodded once, deft and short. Unless you can create fire... Taking this as a personal challenge, Fable set her jaw and began to hunt in the still-dry nooks and crannies near the fallen stones. Spotting something glinting beneath the shadow of the stone, she scrabbled at the hard earth until it gave up its prize. A sharp shard of steel speckled with ancient rust revealed itself. Grabbing it carefully in her mouth to avoid cutting the edges of her lips, Fable struck it against the time-smoothed rock. Nothing happened.

Fable moved her tongue around it to get a better grip. Pain bit her suddenly and the taste of blood hit the back of her throat. Coughing, she struck the metal against the rock again. Droplets of blood scattered across the stone, but so did sparks. "I'm always useful," she said, a bit snippily, once she'd safely deposited the shard of metal on the ground. Without additional commentary (a rarity for her), Fable began to dig a trench by the stone to contain what would soon be their fire. "Now we just need some dead grass to catch it and then enough fodder for the fire to truly burn." Dirt from up from underneath her dutiful paws as she went, although she watched him out of the corner of her eye. He didn't seem like a fellow you'd like to turn your back to for long. I guess I'm learning all sorts of lessons, she thought bitterly.