Form: Optime. Early morning. For Amata Sadira. Kinda short, but the rest of the posts will be better. Promise.
As she rose with the sun, she wondered how to best handle her monotonous days. She found herself tired lately, and though her knee was almost healed, it bogged her down with difficulty. But there was much she could do in the pack that didn't entail much physical exertion, despite her own distaste of such a route. Ghita Marino loved activity. Sitting around? Well, that was unacceptable. "Ciò che faremo oggi, Ghita? Ciò che, ciò che, ciò che." There was always that deer hide from the hunt the evening before.
Her fingers wrapped around a fistful of the short-furred hide as she made her way to the porch; it was better to get fresh air instead of sitting inside for hours and hours. Why limit herself to a lack of sunlight when springtime was so beautiful? She smiled at the world as she sat on the old porch, scraping at the underside of the hide to remove unnecessary muscle and ligaments. Her tail thumped against the wood with each motion of her arm. The skin would probably be enough to make a gift for one of her daughters or nieces, perhaps a bag to cart around whatever it was they carted. She let herself hum a soft tune as she worked, prefering it to her own singing voice; after all, she didn't sing very well.
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