10 Saun 709
Dan eyed the fragrant pile of horse apples and wrinkled his nose. They had to be dried before he could use them as fuel in his fire, but they were close by and common, and didn't require him to be constantly out hunting wood in any of the forests that hated having their trees damaged.
He sighed and gathered a fistful of fallen twigs to him. He lined some of them up on bare dirt, and then stacked a second layer on top to make a long narrow makeshift drying rack where the full light of the suns would hit it. It was a good day for drying things. The hot Saun suns baked the back of his neck as he bent and straightened and moved around, while little dappled pools of sunlight puddled on the ground below the trees. He picked up the first of the horse apples in one hand, put the other hand over the top of it, and pressed down. It was still soft enough to squash easily into a flattened disc. He laid the dung disc on one end of the drying rack to dry out, and picked up another to repeat the process. He worked steadily through the rest of the horse apples until the rack was covered and the pile much diminished, humming tunelessly and wordlessly as he did so. He doubted the apples or disks would take long to dry, not in this heat at this time of the arc, but it was also too hot to move around much. He had fish soup set aside from the trial before, which would serve him for totrial's meal.
Instead, he retreated into the shade of a tree with his basket full of to get that done. He fished out the top item from the basket - a torn shirt - along with needle and thread. Licking the end of the thread, he carefully threaded a needle, tongue jutting from the corner of his mouth in concentration, and turned the shirt inside out. That way his mend - no matter how bad - would be hidden from view once he was finished. It was simple enough, just a straight rip down the back. He pulled the edges together, found one end, and started to sew.
He pressed his thumb on the end of the thread to hold it in place as he made the first stitch, but he wasn't quite firm enough and it slithered out of his grip and all the way through, so that there wasn't any stitch left. He sighed, shifted his grip and tried again, his tongue sticking out in concentration. This time he successfully made the stitch, and then added two more stitches right on top of it to lock that end of the thread down. He pulled the edges of the tear together and held them like that with his fingers as he sewed over them. His needle went through the cloth and then looped over the top edges of the tear to punch back through the same side each time in an overstitch. Some of them puckered a bit too tightly as he drew the edges together with his needle. When he tried to loosen up, there were gaps instead, and the stitching went the other way into too loose.
He still worked steadily down the line of the tear, managing to create a mend that was thick and slightly lumpy, but still worked. He fastened off the thread at the end and pulled the basket closer to find another piece of mending. He came up with a hide vest where the underarm seam had popped open, creating a hole that was slowly expanding down the side of the vest. Turning the vest inside out, he considered the problem. The tear went in several directions rather than being straight and simple. He could start in the armpit and just yank all the corners together, but that would make for an uncomfortable lump, or he could start on the side and work his way up and round.
He studied the unravelling seams some more, then started at the end of the longest tear, pulled the edges together and slowly began to sew. He worked his way up the side to the armpit. He wasn't experienced to know to lock down the unravelling seam before he started, so the tear would soon start up again, but for now it held. He made a tiny, loose stitch that drew the corners towards each other and held them in roughly the right position while his needle jabbed its way up each of the other tears and fastened the shoulder seams back into place where the stitches had worn through. Seams, he decided, were absolutely the weak point in something made from hide or leather. Even the strongest thread just wasn't as sturdy as the material it fastened. But that was fine. Seams were easier to mend than worn fabric too!
It wasn't the only thing that had worn through its stitches either. The buckle on one of his saddle bags currently hung askew from the bag's flank, its small leather tongue held there by a few remaining frayed stitches. He carefully cut it free and set it where it wouldn't get lost, then examined the bag itself for other damage. The strap that went through the buckle was worn too, with the usual hole stretched and looser than it used to be, but thankfully not so much that he needed to replace it right now as well as the buckle. Dan just sighed with relief, glad that he had spotted the problem in time, before the fastening came completely apart and he lost the buckle out in the grass when he was on the move between campsites.
He picked the loose threads out of the holes with his fingers and the tip of his needle. This being leather, the holes didn't close up behind his work, but stayed open and could be used again. That saved him from having to punch new holes and re-align every part of the fastening to make it fit back together from the buckle's new position. Instead, he could just sew the buckle back exactly where it had been before.
He threaded his needle again, this time with a thicker and sturdier thread than he had used for the shirt, and fastened on again with stitches overlaid on top of each other. Since he was using pre-punched holes this time, he didn't have to be as careful or think as hard about the length of his stitches, he just had to follow the guidance cut into the leather by the highly-skilled worker who had made the saddle bag the first time around. He did have to be careful about how tight he pulled the stitches if he didn't want to pucker the leather and create a strain on the worn parts that would just tear through his work all too soon and leave him to fix it all over again. Up and over and down again, trying not to prick his fingers as he worked, going back and forth in the method called saddle stitch which created a neat, strong, and sturdy line of stitches that looked the same on both sides, was smooth enough not to chafe, and left no gap between the stitches when it was done.
He reached the end and fastened the thread off with more stitches overlaid on each other. He then tested the strength of his work, and whether he had secured the ends properly by tugging on the buckle. Everything held, nothing unravelled or tore out, so Dan heaved a sigh full of relief that he hadn't, until now, realised that he felt, and finally cut the remains of the thread off short with his knife so that it wouldn't catch on anything.
Cloud looked up from her grazing at the sound of his sigh, and ambled over to join him in the shade of the tree, her tail flicking here and there to swat the flies away. Dan leaned his head back against the slightly cooler bark of the tree and looked up at her. "You hot too?" It was a silly question, one to which he already knew the answer. It was Saun. Everything and everyone was hot. This was called the Hot Cycle, after all, and the name was a clue the size of a mountain, if ever he saw one.
Cloud didn't respond, of course, except with another flick of her tail, but she was, at least, company. He grinned to himself, and to her, set the pieces he had mended on one side, and rummaged in the basket for his next task.
"Signed words" Spoken words
Dan eyed the fragrant pile of horse apples and wrinkled his nose. They had to be dried before he could use them as fuel in his fire, but they were close by and common, and didn't require him to be constantly out hunting wood in any of the forests that hated having their trees damaged.
He sighed and gathered a fistful of fallen twigs to him. He lined some of them up on bare dirt, and then stacked a second layer on top to make a long narrow makeshift drying rack where the full light of the suns would hit it. It was a good day for drying things. The hot Saun suns baked the back of his neck as he bent and straightened and moved around, while little dappled pools of sunlight puddled on the ground below the trees. He picked up the first of the horse apples in one hand, put the other hand over the top of it, and pressed down. It was still soft enough to squash easily into a flattened disc. He laid the dung disc on one end of the drying rack to dry out, and picked up another to repeat the process. He worked steadily through the rest of the horse apples until the rack was covered and the pile much diminished, humming tunelessly and wordlessly as he did so. He doubted the apples or disks would take long to dry, not in this heat at this time of the arc, but it was also too hot to move around much. He had fish soup set aside from the trial before, which would serve him for totrial's meal.
Instead, he retreated into the shade of a tree with his basket full of to get that done. He fished out the top item from the basket - a torn shirt - along with needle and thread. Licking the end of the thread, he carefully threaded a needle, tongue jutting from the corner of his mouth in concentration, and turned the shirt inside out. That way his mend - no matter how bad - would be hidden from view once he was finished. It was simple enough, just a straight rip down the back. He pulled the edges together, found one end, and started to sew.
He pressed his thumb on the end of the thread to hold it in place as he made the first stitch, but he wasn't quite firm enough and it slithered out of his grip and all the way through, so that there wasn't any stitch left. He sighed, shifted his grip and tried again, his tongue sticking out in concentration. This time he successfully made the stitch, and then added two more stitches right on top of it to lock that end of the thread down. He pulled the edges of the tear together and held them like that with his fingers as he sewed over them. His needle went through the cloth and then looped over the top edges of the tear to punch back through the same side each time in an overstitch. Some of them puckered a bit too tightly as he drew the edges together with his needle. When he tried to loosen up, there were gaps instead, and the stitching went the other way into too loose.
He still worked steadily down the line of the tear, managing to create a mend that was thick and slightly lumpy, but still worked. He fastened off the thread at the end and pulled the basket closer to find another piece of mending. He came up with a hide vest where the underarm seam had popped open, creating a hole that was slowly expanding down the side of the vest. Turning the vest inside out, he considered the problem. The tear went in several directions rather than being straight and simple. He could start in the armpit and just yank all the corners together, but that would make for an uncomfortable lump, or he could start on the side and work his way up and round.
He studied the unravelling seams some more, then started at the end of the longest tear, pulled the edges together and slowly began to sew. He worked his way up the side to the armpit. He wasn't experienced to know to lock down the unravelling seam before he started, so the tear would soon start up again, but for now it held. He made a tiny, loose stitch that drew the corners towards each other and held them in roughly the right position while his needle jabbed its way up each of the other tears and fastened the shoulder seams back into place where the stitches had worn through. Seams, he decided, were absolutely the weak point in something made from hide or leather. Even the strongest thread just wasn't as sturdy as the material it fastened. But that was fine. Seams were easier to mend than worn fabric too!
It wasn't the only thing that had worn through its stitches either. The buckle on one of his saddle bags currently hung askew from the bag's flank, its small leather tongue held there by a few remaining frayed stitches. He carefully cut it free and set it where it wouldn't get lost, then examined the bag itself for other damage. The strap that went through the buckle was worn too, with the usual hole stretched and looser than it used to be, but thankfully not so much that he needed to replace it right now as well as the buckle. Dan just sighed with relief, glad that he had spotted the problem in time, before the fastening came completely apart and he lost the buckle out in the grass when he was on the move between campsites.
He picked the loose threads out of the holes with his fingers and the tip of his needle. This being leather, the holes didn't close up behind his work, but stayed open and could be used again. That saved him from having to punch new holes and re-align every part of the fastening to make it fit back together from the buckle's new position. Instead, he could just sew the buckle back exactly where it had been before.
He threaded his needle again, this time with a thicker and sturdier thread than he had used for the shirt, and fastened on again with stitches overlaid on top of each other. Since he was using pre-punched holes this time, he didn't have to be as careful or think as hard about the length of his stitches, he just had to follow the guidance cut into the leather by the highly-skilled worker who had made the saddle bag the first time around. He did have to be careful about how tight he pulled the stitches if he didn't want to pucker the leather and create a strain on the worn parts that would just tear through his work all too soon and leave him to fix it all over again. Up and over and down again, trying not to prick his fingers as he worked, going back and forth in the method called saddle stitch which created a neat, strong, and sturdy line of stitches that looked the same on both sides, was smooth enough not to chafe, and left no gap between the stitches when it was done.
He reached the end and fastened the thread off with more stitches overlaid on each other. He then tested the strength of his work, and whether he had secured the ends properly by tugging on the buckle. Everything held, nothing unravelled or tore out, so Dan heaved a sigh full of relief that he hadn't, until now, realised that he felt, and finally cut the remains of the thread off short with his knife so that it wouldn't catch on anything.
Cloud looked up from her grazing at the sound of his sigh, and ambled over to join him in the shade of the tree, her tail flicking here and there to swat the flies away. Dan leaned his head back against the slightly cooler bark of the tree and looked up at her. "You hot too?" It was a silly question, one to which he already knew the answer. It was Saun. Everything and everyone was hot. This was called the Hot Cycle, after all, and the name was a clue the size of a mountain, if ever he saw one.
Cloud didn't respond, of course, except with another flick of her tail, but she was, at least, company. He grinned to himself, and to her, set the pieces he had mended on one side, and rummaged in the basket for his next task.
"Signed words" Spoken words
