Áskell was wandering under the supervision of Kári and the duo headed for the Orchard to do some crafting. Áskell was dragging his travois with him, tail wagging high. He felt just like his dad, he was so impressive! He was going to feel even more awesome as a bit for he finally got permission to play with fire.

After finding a place to settle he got a fire started with he help of his companion. They needed it to burn down in order to make pine pitch and also to fire some of his clay pots to make ceramics. While Kári tended the fire Áskell started getting things set up. He used his paws to scoot a flat stone from near the stream toward the fire. Once that was done he used a scrap of hide to carefully move his pots onto he stone to wait til the fire was ready to go.

He then picked up one of his ceramic pots and wandered off in search of a good pine tree. There were so many trees here he was sure one of them had to be a pine tree. After searching he found one that happened to have a wound in it. Picking up a stick he scooped the sap into his bowl then wandered back to his crafting site.

Dagrún wandered toward the Orchard with a scrap of hide in her mouth that carried a lump of clay. Sperla had been scouting about and found a good source of clay at a stream that ran through the Orchard. She planned to make a pot out of her current lump of clay and then make some more clay at the stream. The Orchard was one of her favorite places to explore. It made her feel so grown up to be wandering outside pack territory but it was close enough to Fireside's border she didn't feel like she'd get in trouble.

She was following along the stream when she noticed smoke rising from nearby. Curious she sneaked forward to see an older boy doing something with a bowl. Her ears flicked forward and she popped out of the bushes, setting her clay bundle down. "Hey! Can I join you, what are you doing?" She didn't really wait for an answer. He was near her pack after all. She set her bundle down on a nearby rock and rolled out the clay, patting it so that it wouldn't roll off. She then wandered over to the stream to start gathering clay.

Áskell froze and frizzed up at first when he saw the pup come bounding out of he bushes but when he realized she was only a season old and didn't have an adult with her he calmed down. He carefully set his bowl of pitch down on the hot coals of the fire which was dying down enough to be usable. "Sure, my name is Áskell. Do you live around here?" He could explain what he was doing but it would be a lot so he summarized. "Oh, I'm just making some stuff." He picked up a stick and used it to scoop ash from the fire into the bowl of pitch and carefully stirred it.

He then moved back over to his clay pots. Picking them up with the scrap of hide he moved them closer to he fire and rotated them. He would continue to keep an eye on the pots, trying to make sure they heated slowly and evenly before he put them right on the fire in order to prevent cracking.

"I'm Dagrún and I live in Fireside, is right over there." She pointed toward her pack not only to inform the other pup but also to warn him that if he got mean she could scream and have the whole pack tear him to bits. "What about you?" She was curious if there was another pack nearby.

Dag rolled her lump of river clay over and onto a scrap of hide which she picked up and carried over to the rock she was working on. She dumped it out and started adding some dust to it to help remove some of the moisture. She worked to evenly knead the dust throughout the clay then she set it aside to dry a little bit more.

With her paws still covered in gunk she started kneading the finished piece of clay before starting to work it into a bowl.

Áskell nodded at the girl's question and filed away the information about Fireside for later. It was good to know he couldn't just wander another territory over like he'd been planning. "Yea, I'm from Habari to the east. We're over by the volcano." He puffed up his chest proudly at the mention of the volcano as he felt his made him sound really cool. Only really brave wolves would dare live next to a volcano.

When the pine pitch was ready Áskell used a stick to remove it from the fire so it could cool. As it did he took a stick and stirred it until it formed a sticky, tar-like mixture. When it did he carefully rotated the stick to spool he substance onto the piece of wood which he then set down to dry with the sticky end up.

With the pitch taken care of it was time to finish his pots. Using another long stick Áskell carefully hooked the lip of his dry pots and set them in the center of the hot coals. He then started stacking more wood over the pots before adding kindling and stirring the fire to life so it could, well, fire his pots into ceramics.

Dagrún watched what the boy was doing with interest and her ears perked up at the word volcano. She knew vaguely what that was. It was a mountain that could explode with fire and she wondered why anyone would want to live next to such a thing. She continued shaping her bowl, pleased she could retract her claws so she didn't have to worry about them scraping her bowl when she was trying to smooth it out.

Once that was done she poked lightly at the lump of soon to be workable clay. Time to knead again. She worked at pushing and pulling the clay, seeking to evenly mix in the dirt as well as work out air bubbles so she could make a pot without having to work about it exploding. Boy, there were a lot of things that exploded now that she though about it.