Your Memories Can Be Inviting [Thistle]

Evening was falling as Drífa wandered her way down into the gorge. She couldn't help herself. It was the most familiar place to her in the north and one of her favorites even if the pack that held it was long gone. Halla wandered by her side as the duo looked for a good spot to set up shop. In the end she found herself by her herb garden and the old fire ring she'd built. It needed a bit of love but once she got a good fire going she and Halla could start their clay pots. She found herself short of containers. There were only so many on the ship free for her to use that weren't cracked or damaged. Some seemed to have been sealed up and not even Halla's strong hands could open them.

Halla started adjusting the stones and cleaning out debris while Drífa hunted for sticks of various sizes. There was plenty of timber in the gorge thanks to the winds. Thankfully the herb meadow was sheltered a little from the southern forest and as far as calm evenings went here she'd gotten lucky. Drífa returned, pulling several branches over to the fire ring. Once there she began chewing to break them down into sizeable chunks. At one point Halla also wandered over to help snap some of them. The bigger ones would need to be cut. "Thank you, Halla, I can get the rest. Would you get the clay rolled up into balls for me? They'll be in the badger hide."

"Sure, but let me know if you need help." The monkey wandered over to the badger hide and unfolded it to reveal a large lump of river clay. The monkey then took the clay in her hands and started scraping off chunks into equal portions. Once she'd done that she started pounding them into flat slabs on a nearby stone. "Drífa, what was the next step?" The elderly wolf looked up from her growing pile of sticks. "There should be straw in the deer hide buried under the… oh… hang on where did I put that."