Ahh, the feel of soft supple leather beneath her paws. It was magical, an open canvas waiting to be transformed into something, anything. The possibilities were endless. The blonde girl smiled as she ran her hand along its surface. She was wearing her dream catcher today. It rested just above her tan colored chest with its turquoise beads strung randomly in the design. The hawk feathers were not attached to it today as the girl had fitted them among her sandy locks. They served as a contrast to the tawny hues of her pelt. Other than these was the leather pouch resting in the hollow of her neck, strung by a similar leather cord. She had nothing to cover the rest of her body, her pelt providing all the warmth and security she needed. The girl was young and feared little, nothing more than a yearling.
She sighed contentedly as she looked about her. The ground was brown beneath a thin layer of snow with large dead brown stalks tumbled here, sprawled there, the remnants of large yellow flowers. Winter had ravaged them for now, but she knew, come spring this plain would be a field of greens and yellows, and full of avian life. She smiled at the thought, promising herself that she would come here again in the spring, to behold them in their full glory. For now she lay to rest in the snow with her pack beside her and Rhaego nibbling at the dead stalks idly nearby. His hooves made crisp crunching noises as he walked ponderously through the frosted field. She was never without her brave stallion, but couldn’t help but wonder if this was the best for him. She had no hay to feed him or a blanket warm enough to shield him from the cold. She lent him her bear pelt from time to time, but at some cost to herself, and often coaxed him close when she made the night’s fire. He seemed healthy enough now, but she loved him dearly, and didn’t wish to watch him in discomfort.
There was little she could do for him now and let him graze in peace while she set to her work. She pulled out her oversized bone needle and some thick waxed thread along with a thimble which she placed over her thumb. She tapped a finger to her snout, trying to decide what it was she could make of it. She struggled without another to make something for. There wasn’t anything she really, needed. She wished for a belt and a sheath for her family’s bone handled dagger. The girl had pricked herself several times on its point which had been sharpened diligently over several generations of her family. But, she really hadn’t needed to use it that often. So she sat there, leather and needle in hand, without the slightest thought on just how to carry on.
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