(--)
Ithiel is by me!
The half-full moon cast silvery light down over the caves, but it was not enough for Ithiel. The dusky-furred coyote was working hard at his arrows and his bows, carving and carving. A small pile of shortened, straight sticks sat beside him, and another pile, less neat, of those he deemed unusable or those that had broken beneath his blade before him. For this work, he had brought the oil lamp out of the depths of his cave, sitting it on a rock behind his head. It burned brightly and cast orange light down over his fingers, though he had to sit in a somewhat awkward position in order not to block his own light with a shadow.
Zedekiah murmured something, and Ithiel glanced at him, sparing no words for his vulture. The diurnal bird was up past his bedtime, and Ithiel thought he ought to go inside, but he was not one to micromanage the lives of his companions. Zedekiah would hop down and retreat into the cave in due time, when he was ready. The dusky coyote set his knife and his current arrow down, stretching sore fingers first, then sorer arms, then sore legs as he finally stood up, bending and stretching this way and that until the tension was gone from him. There was still soreness, aches and pains from his injuries, but all were healing well.
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