#anywhere

"Y'should see this sour-faced old farrier they got at the freehold. Real curmudgeon."

Willy glares. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. She gotta a scowl that'll curdle steel."

Well, she had been smiling.

"I was... did I fuck up?"

And the metal goes back in the coals.

"You tell me!"

"Uh. Probably?"

"I was tryin' to.. I.. I was just talking shit, because you've been teaching me..."

"Clearly ain't been teachin' ya to talk shit, 'cause you suck at it."

"I... uh..."

Is there... a test question in those fierce, fiery eyes?

"I mean, clearly you're better at talking shit. You got more practice, bein' practically a coprolite."

"Ooo... got big fancy words but still a noob."

"Aw now, that was just three syllables. Must be hard keeping up when your knees creak."

"My knees might creak but at least they ain't callused from all the time spent on 'em."

"Pretty sure that'd be one of the blue crew."

A dismissive snort, and some anvil-tapping.

"You ever been at a freehold that's like, nocker-run? I heard Darkgate has trolls, and there's this River place what's trolls, too..."

A sigh. "Yeah, yeah. We got holds. Someone'll take you there, when your old enough." with a smirk.

A nervous twist of her hands. "Hopefully before I start creaking at the seams." She jests.

"Depends on how much hot air you're storin' in there, I reckon."

"Enough to keep running my mouth."

"Oughta use your -brain- to run your mouth. But, I guess, cain't use what you ain't got...."

"Nah, my brain is busy workin' out ideas. Talking to you, gotta meet on your level."

"Your brain ever gonna communicate to your hands? MAKE the ideas?"

A mumbled retort.

"HA!" She fishes metal out of the fire and starts beating it on the anvil.

Thistle quietly rasps away at her stack of shoes.