Yes, it probably would've been easier to get clay from near the stream but when Skælingr found the residual clay bed he just couldn't give it up. It had rained the night before making it the perfect time to create some clay for pottery. He'd gone through a number of his bowls already and needed to restock his booth. Moving over to the shallow bank he started digging with his nails, removing the dryer parts of the clay bed so he could get at the good slightly softer stuff below. Skælingr used his paws to scoop out big clumps of the stuff as he went, setting what he wanted to keep in a loosely woven yucca basked set on a shaped caribou scapula. He didn't need much. Just enough to make a few small bowls. He had to admit he was jealous of his companion's ability to make baskets. He had no idea how he could make such a thing. He only hoped it lasted long enough for his companion to catch up with him. "Speech"

Wyndelin strode forward dragging his travois full of sticks, kindling and even some larger chunks that could be called logs. He was hoping to make a nice fire and just relax for the afternoon. As he was traveling he noticed the wolf he'd been crafting with during the scholars circle. He quickly padded over and decided to properly introduce himself. "Hey there, remember me? It's Wyndelin. I'll get a fire going for us." He didn't know if the other man planned to fire his clay or not.

The first task was to dig a fire ring. Wyndelin got to work, claws scraping and shoveling dirt as he worked to scrape grass and earth away. He worked until he had a rough oval set where he could begin to build his fire. Well, almost. Wyndelin kept digging until the fire pit was at least a few inches deep.

With the amount of clay he wanted in the basket, Skælingr gave it one last look over then picked up the basket in his teeth and gently shook it to sift the clay. He wanted just the clay dirt. Any extra temper such as sticks or leaves could be a problem later. They'd burn out when he tried to fire the pottery or if he opted to make just clay bowls it might not dry evenly. Either way it risked cracking and he didn't want to go through all that effort just to end up with cracked pottery. Once he was done sifting he set the basket aside then used his paws to scoop it back into a nice pile. "Hello again, name's Skælingr. Go ahead." He wasn't sure yet if he'd need the fire for anything but it certainly wouldn't hurt and wood was a rare thing in the dancefloor. Wyndelin must've carried it with him from a neighboring territory. "Speech"

With the fire pit fully dug it was time to start building the fire. Wyndelin hummed to himself as he worked. It helped to keep himself busy and he glanced over at the other man. "It's been a pretty nice festival so far, I'm surprised to see so many wolves here." He had no idea it was going to be so big. In some ways it was a little overwhelming.

First Wyndelin set down two log pieces making sure to leave a space between them. Then he set two more logs crosswise on top of the first two, continuing to leave a space in the middle. Wyndelin next took a number of small sticks from his kindling bundle and added them to the middle. He carefully arranged them then added dead leaves and pine needles on top for kindling. It was looking like a pretty good start to a fire if he did say so himself. Such a lovely spring day to.

Skælingr made a small well in the middle of the dirt pile. Taking one of his small ceramic bowls in his mouth Skælingr trotted a little ways away over to one of the streams that cut through the dancefloor. He used the bowl to scoop up some water and then trotted back. Once he arrived he gently tipped the water out onto the clay dirt, into the well. Once that was done he started to mix the dirt and water together. He wanted the moisture to get evening incorporated and he started kneading the clay into a wedge. He worked constantly, moving and shaping the clay. It would take awhile to get a good wedge of clay that was uniform and to also work out air bubbles that could make his work more difficult later on. He nodded at Wyndelin's words. "It really is an extravagant affair. Is this your first time in Boreas." He was curious if he was the only one. "Speech"

Wyndelin shook his head at Lynvarr's question. "No, I was born and raised here. Well, not here here but in Boreas." He'd grown up in the west and of course he'd heard of Valhalla. He knew that they were allies of Lirim and they certainly knew how to throw a party! Wynde looked about in the bundles on his travois and pulled out a piece of flint which he set down on the ground need the wood. He then grabbed a piece of steel. He set one paw on the flint to hold it still with his weight. Then, with the steel in his teeth, twisted his head sharply so that the steel struck against the flint. He repeated the process several times until at last the kindling caught a spark and slowly grew into a small flame. Wyndelin watched as the fire spread from the kindling to the sticks and the fire grew and grew, finally when it was going well he relaxed next to it.