Ouroboros Spine vii. for each others' warmth

The dove had finally finished digging her dwelling and had packed the dirt of its floor down neatly, stashing the pelts she'd begun curing within where they wouldn't be disturbed. She'd soaked the stiff undersides of the furs, chewing away the excess skin and working at the rawhide underside by raking it with her claws but it would take several sessions before the skins were soft and supple. Still, her home was coming along nicely and that made the birdcaller proud. 

The afternoon had found her outside, sitting near the boulder that made up one side of her den, where she mixed a thick clay she had found within the rich loam of her burrow. It was sticky and gritty and did not spread well but the painter had managed to scrape some fat from the pelts she was working and now she mixed it with the clay, swirling the rusty orange substance with her pawpads. The texture might not have been pleasing to another but to Elenwë's daughter, it was soothing and reminded her of home, at least when it had felt like home.