Cross my heart and hope to die

Róta joined her cousin and the big one thinking they might have themselves a real hunt, so when Idunn pulled out vines and twigs, she couldn’t keep the sour expression off her face. If she had of known this was going to turn into arts and crafts time, she would have long since slipped off to go and find some real fun.

It was odd to hear the priestess talking in the common tongue, and though she knew it was for the benefit of their found companion, she couldn’t keep the smirk off her face. She never thought she would see the day when her cousin adjusted her language to suit an audience that wasn’t from their motherland. She wondered if she could get away with giving her incorrect corrections, or if Barghest would pull her up on it. Probably best to do so without an audience.

Ró grabbed her bundle with a heavy sigh and a low grumble. We’d be better off finding pets with fingers to do this, no? She complained to Idunn, fumbling the weave in her clumsy paws. She had plenty of lessons growing up, and snares had always been one of her least favourite, if only because she was an impatient woman and snares required patience.

After much sighing, muttering, and outright cursing and throwing her weave two or three times, she finally had a few passable lengths to work with and got to tying her slipknot and preparing her snares to set. She was sure the other two probably didn’t have nearly as much trouble as she had, but maybe she would take her own advise and start looking into getting herself a companion that could be trained to do this for her.

“Speech”