Riv Mig Sund

As Tove readies herself, the shadow settles to lick at the wound. Really, there had to be something dangerous about leaving her knife that way. Still, he knows better than to scold his older sister. That, and he was looking to borrow it without permission. Still, who leaves a knife all tucked away where it can just stab someone. Ah, no matter. The wound wasn't anything to worry about, just a small thorn in his side. It was fine he was just going to complain (internally) about it.

Tove settled back down, holding the knife carefully. That was a good sign, at least. The hare's skin lay flat, spread between the rocks. Good, Viðarr nodded to himself. She'd listened well so far. "Fleshing," he explained. "Removing the flesh from the skin." The shadow figured that made enough sense, or at least, he hoped as much. "Watch," and then there was the instruction. Carefully, he gripped his knife-- not too firm though. He held the blade almost parallel to the skin itself and scraped away at the greasy bits of bear that still clung to the pelt before him. "Don't ah... stab? And careful that it stays flat." Viðarr instructed, nodding once, more to himself than to Tove. Wouldn't want to stab through the pelt, wouldn't want to get caught on anything beneath it and nick the hide.

"What we do only works with fresh or almost fresh pelts. If they sit, we ah... have to do it another way." Right, something that the valkyrie would need to explain. She was better at handling things after they'd sat for a while, anyway. "You try." Carefully, he gazed at Tove, watching the way she held the knife and hoping she'd picked things up. Still, it was a practice makes perfect sort of scenario. No one was perfect right away.

"Viðarr"