The iron sizzled at Angelika as she brought her hammer up for another swing down at its red-hot surface. One, two, three hits and she flipped the iron with her tongs, feeling its heat radiating through her thick work gloves and onto her exposed arms. Smithing was hard work, but she liked the labor. It kept her strong and healthy, and warm. One, two, three hits once again on the iron to flatten it more. To squash out the impurities and make the product strong and reliable.

She wiped the sweat from her brow with one arm, placing the iron back in the forge with the other. The apron was hot on her chest and stomach, but there was no time to take a break, save to swing some water and take a bite of bread. She returned to the anvil, grabbing the iron again and setting to work on it with light taps this time. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.

No customers today. That was alright. She enjoyed the quiet. The sound of the crackling flame and the protest of the iron as she battered it. She didn't feel the need to talk much, so days when she didn't have to were a blessing. Angelika flicker her hair from her eyes before bringing the hammer up so get back to the heavy hits. Her muscles tensed as she brought it down. One, two, three. One, two, three. Flip. One, two, snap. One-

Wait a moment, that didn't sound right. Or feel right. It took a moment for her to realize that her hammer had actually splintered and snapped just before the head.For a moment, she was quiet. And in the next, she was throwing the newly headless shaft across her shop with a scream of rage.

Now she had to find another hammer. But later. For now, she needed food. And that meant it was time to head into town. She stripped herself of her apron and gloves, put on her usual simple dress and boots, locked her shop up and began her morning walk. Who knows who she would see on the way?