Riv Mig Sund

The shadow found himself adrift in his thoughts for a moment, scraping away at the hide with practiced motions. They were careful, thoughtful, each stroke executed with care and precision. He's taken in by the rhythm of the work, the dull sound of his flint blade as he rends flesh from skin. Comfortable, really. This is his home, these are his chores. His mind is, for once, peaceful. Still, Viðarr is more glad than he cares to admit that he's not on his own for long.

Viðarr peers at Tove, nodding once as she asks to learn how he does things. "Alright." It's then that the challenge of this occurs to him. The words for what exactly he does don't come as easily as he'd like. Still, he would do his best. "Come, sit." The words are short, but by no means unfriendly. Viðarr is a man of few words to begin with, and he lacks the ease and fluency to have his words come... well, to have them come easily. Carefully, he climbs to his feet, moving to rummage in the crafting supplies that Sanngriðr had left stacked near the common space that they'd set as their camp. There had to be another knife somew-- ah. Viðarr made a face, having found the flint crafting knife with the tender side of his foreleg. Of course she'd left it wrapped among some of the hides she'd rather not have traded away. Well, at least he could be sure it was sharp, and it had a better handle on it than his own. Carefully created, she'd done a good job.

From the stack of hides to be processed, the shadow pulled the pelt of a hare. It was smaller, and would be easier to work with for someone just starting out. Viðarr returned to the woman, turning the flint knife to offer it handle-side first, and then spreading the hare's pelt before her. "Flint knife, easily sharpened. The sharper the tool, the less likely you are to get injured in the process." The explanation was careful, doing his best to arrange the words in his head before speaking. "That one is Sanngriðr's, I will get her to make you one, if you would like." Hell, he'd have to have the valkyrie make him one as well, they were far nicer than his own hastily constructed tools. She had the patience for that sort of thing.

"Spread the hide as flat as you can first." The shadow returned to his spot, settling before his bear pelt. "Put something heavy on each corner." Right, not too many directions at once. The shadow gestured to the rocks he had on each corner of his own spread hide, ready to help Tove move stones if the need arose.
"Viðarr"