spin me right round

Once she'd dug the pit to a sufficient depth, Fable nosed his sticks into the depression until they clattered to the bottom. There were some dry, scrubby grasses deep beneath the shadow of the fallen rocks. Dry moss clung to the fissures inside the rocks as well. Figuring the most the better, she scooped what she could into the pit. Once she'd impressed him (or she'd like to think she did), Fable felt as if they were on more even footing. Fable carefully picked up the shard of metal and scattered sparks over the pit until the grasses and mosses caught. It took careful fretting and coaxing until the blaze finally roared. Tending a fire could time-consuming. Luckily, her experience in cooking food came in handy. In no time at all until she had the fire crackling away merrily, well-fed and still hungry for more.

"Don't mind if I do. Thank you," she murmured, peering at the pieces that had been assembled. Fable compared a few of them at a time until she settled on a large bowl with a chunk missing - a little less than a third. A nearby piece fit into the missing spot well enough - both edges were timeworn and smooth, allowing to fit together easily once some wet clay was applied. The piece would hang over the free edge when she was done, jutting out unevenly, but the bowl itself would be perfectly intact. That was all she cared about. "Yes, now we just need to plug up the uneven edges with some clay. Should be some underneath the rocks, below the surface." She laid her pottery selections a few feet from the fire and turned her attentions towards a fallen monolith. Fable turned over the cold topsoil, revealing some pungent and heavy clay beneath. Now it was time to get messy! "Scoop some out and re-wet it with the snow until it forms a thick slurry, then we can re-fashion the pots."