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Myrika Tears · 10-31-2011, 05:07 AM

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Form	Info Time: Sunset Words: 686

Great Village

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Mel was saying she wanted thread with Myrika, but I didn't clear it with her before starting this, so it's marked attention and not private for her. c; I'd like to give Mel a few days to reply before opening this up to everyone else, so after 5 November this will be all welcome-like. c:

The hybrid had been working for weeks now. There was much to be done: first, she had hunted, stalking through the forests of the Dampwoods in search of deer. They were the necessary prey for this task: their skins would provide the parchment for her to record the history of the clan. She had estimated four were necessary for this task, but she had taken five in almost as many days. It was more meat than she could ever use, and so, she had traded it off to a stranger she'd encountered in the Dampwoods. Meat wasn't particularly good trading fare, of course, and so she'd been lucky to get what she had: a small bit of quartz, which was really and truly useless to her, and a few nails. At least the nails could be used for this project: she'd used them to stretch a skin after soaking them.

For a few days, the hallway of her schoolhouse -- devoid of company and emptied of anything useful to her -- was filled with frames. She'd constructed those before anything else, constructing them of sturdy saplings she'd stripped of branch and leaf. Then, the real labor began: she'd scraped each of them down to fine quality, adjusting her cords and fixing the stretch as she went. Often, she worked late into the night, going so far as to light a fire just outside of the schoolhouse doors. She had never been one to suffer from nyctophobia, but of course, one needed light to see. Sandstone procured from Hades Beach had served to refine the hides even further. They were nearly translucent when she dampened them, but they would harden and serve as a lasting reminder of the clan's history, no doubt.

Cutting and shaping the hides had been easy work, and Myrika already had leather and sinew suitable for the binding. The book did smell faintly of old rot, but the coyote hybrid had included bayberry in the soaking water, and she'd worked it into the drying skins, too. This left the parchment pieces with a faintly purple tinge, but Myrika thought that was better than a book stinking of old death. The pages were far from white to begin with -- most were tan in coloration, nearly the same shade as the back of her hand, even. Still, black ink would show clearly enough, she knew. Now, the hybrid was very nearly done -- the book was mostly assembled, the thick sinew thread knotted through each of the pages and each piece of the thicker boiled leather binding.

The stitching was tedious work, and neither was it easy. This was nothing like sewing clothing together. She had to struggle with the thick bone needle, haphazardly carved from one of the deer's ribs for this very job, with each and every stroke. Pulling and tugging, the girl grunted, folding her ears flat in frustration. Myrika was tired, and she would have thrown the book across the field stretching before her little schoolhouse if it hadn't been so much damned work. The sun was setting, anyhow, and if she wanted to keep working, she'd have to light a fire or move inside and work by candlelight.

Eira neighed somewhere in the distance, and Myri cocked an ear to listen. There was no further noise from the mare, and Myri was content to let her wander. The blue roan never wandered far, and she would often respond to the Praeses' howl, if in hearing range. This varied with Eira's mood, however, and was not failproof. The coyote sighed and set the book down next to her on the ground. She turned back to empty contemplation, digging a clawed toe absently into the cold soil. She was happy to do the work, but she pondered whether anyone would appreciate it. How many of this clan could even read? She wouldn't have been surprised to find that number was rather low; from Thamur's tales and her own little experience, reading was an art lost to much of the world.

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