Three days of frenzied work had Piper almost caught up with orders. Stepping away from the heat blasting from the kiln positioned just outside of the small studio, she brushed the back of her hand across her forehead and looked out across the pristine whiteness of the landscape to the backdrop of ships anchored in the harbor.
One stood out portentously, waiting for her passengers to board in two days time.
As her brow furrowed with apprehension, she pivoted in the snow and headed back inside to the warmth of the small work area. The large worktable off to the side held the newest pieces to be wrapped and delivered. That inscrutable smile was fast to form as she picked up the pieces Storm had chosen for her beloved.
The tankard was tall, the canister the shorter of the two. The former, being sturdier than normal standards, was designed to be of a daily, useable piece. The latter more practical for storage of spices, teas or other items not desired to be left in the open.
With a critical eye she studied the designs emblazed forever upon the clay, which Storm had thoughtfully provided her with. Unfamiliar with Ewan?s native soil of Yransea, she had painstakingly practiced for days perfecting the peculiar little symbols before they were engraved in an incessant blueprint upon the clay. They stood out markedly against the emerald green glazes that burnished like glass.
Gingerly packing up each piece, they were placed in the straw that filled the smallest crate she used for deliveries. Donning her cloak, scarf, gloves and sturdy boots, she prepared to head out into the declining day.
The gray chestnut, which she had yet to decide on a proper name, was called to join her with a melodious whistle. A calm word to the mare?s ear, she secured the crate in her arms and started off with her companion keeping a secure pace beside her.
It was a leisurely walk that took the two through the market square to enjoy the crisp air, the sights and scents of the merchants and denizens and later the quieter streets as they arrived at Storm?s door.
With a slight motion to the mare signifying she should stay put where the road dissected away and lead to the door, Piper continued forward, balancing the crate upon her hip so that she might knock her gloved hand upon the door.
One stood out portentously, waiting for her passengers to board in two days time.
As her brow furrowed with apprehension, she pivoted in the snow and headed back inside to the warmth of the small work area. The large worktable off to the side held the newest pieces to be wrapped and delivered. That inscrutable smile was fast to form as she picked up the pieces Storm had chosen for her beloved.
The tankard was tall, the canister the shorter of the two. The former, being sturdier than normal standards, was designed to be of a daily, useable piece. The latter more practical for storage of spices, teas or other items not desired to be left in the open.
With a critical eye she studied the designs emblazed forever upon the clay, which Storm had thoughtfully provided her with. Unfamiliar with Ewan?s native soil of Yransea, she had painstakingly practiced for days perfecting the peculiar little symbols before they were engraved in an incessant blueprint upon the clay. They stood out markedly against the emerald green glazes that burnished like glass.
Gingerly packing up each piece, they were placed in the straw that filled the smallest crate she used for deliveries. Donning her cloak, scarf, gloves and sturdy boots, she prepared to head out into the declining day.
The gray chestnut, which she had yet to decide on a proper name, was called to join her with a melodious whistle. A calm word to the mare?s ear, she secured the crate in her arms and started off with her companion keeping a secure pace beside her.
It was a leisurely walk that took the two through the market square to enjoy the crisp air, the sights and scents of the merchants and denizens and later the quieter streets as they arrived at Storm?s door.
With a slight motion to the mare signifying she should stay put where the road dissected away and lead to the door, Piper continued forward, balancing the crate upon her hip so that she might knock her gloved hand upon the door.