Warm Your Bones

Alarr mentioned him perhaps acquiring the taste when he was older and Mitros gave the man a grin. "We'll see. So far I've not encountered a paw heavy enough that I cannot carry it myself." He finished with the last of the short spears, using his paws to gather them into a bundle and put them gently to the side so he could grab for the next material he needed. Vine and catgut, to bind it all together. "I have heard nothing of my siblings either, or even of my father." In fact, he hardly knew where anyone went. Tyrfing had travelled with him for a time and Mitros had heard he'd joined Avalon too. Perhaps it was a decent alternative, but a peaceful pack sounded so unlike his family and so unfamiliar a lifestyle.

At Alarr's offer Mitros' head tipped in thought. "I'd like that, thank you." It would be beneficial if he could bring something in the bowl, even if the familiars running the event chose to swap it out for something else. He continued his work, weaving the cat gut and vine tightly so the many spears would lay right against the next, though ensuring they curved inward slightly rather than lay horizontal. It took some time, but the bowl began to take shape before his eyes. There were still gaps in the wood that he did not anticipate, but before he dropped off his own offering he would find a pelt of some sort to line the bottom so smaller pieces did not fall through.

"Speech"