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Black nose pointed up at the sky. A hand rested on his brow to shade the glare of the sun, and he watched the aged and creaking sails bend slightly at the becoming of the late winter winds. There was much to be done to help the old giant work once again. But if they could only get the sails moving once again, the internal pieces looked as if they would begin to turn and mill as they had decades before. Oak was not an experienced carpenter, nor did he have (that he knew of) a knack for old human machinery. Yet when looking inside he saw the same pieces that were drawn in the book he carried, a handy piece of reading material that had been looked over when the farm’s house had been pillaged.
The sails, they needed work. Just as the base of the mill did, the sails needed patching and repair. Oak gave a huff and opened the book to the page he and dog-eared and figured if they could mend the wood that had once been on the sails. The wind would catch them and send them whirling and force the mill to grind.
He looked back at the gathering of Dreamers, giving them a hopeful smile. He wasn’t completely confident, but he wasn’t about to let on. Kota had been the spark of inspiration to the idea, and his mother had seen potential in the fields and built the larger picture. Alright. The male spoke with a bit of nervous enthusiasm. We’ll cut the wood to size, then nail it to the sail. I think we’ve gathered the necessary materials, wood, nails, hammers, and a few saws. He looked over to the ladders. Two, both with a bit of patchwork supports nailed to the sides.
The russet wolf placed the book down and picked up the hammer, sliding it into his belt. I'll volunteer to take one ladder up, and start nailing the pieces. Oak looked out to the others, feeling a bit uneasy. He had never stood as a leader in his life, and with the pack looking at him he was growing a bit self conscious.