As Clelk relaxed by his hut, he noticed that there was a small stack of dry wood - it seemed like Cyrus had stopped by and delivered the wood and Clelk, in his fervor, didn't notice. Well, Clelk didn't need the wood for completing the Sword in the end, so he simply took the small pile and moved it into his hut, gently placing it alongside his many belongings. It would come in handy relatively soon, considering it was nearly time for dinner.

The thought of continuing work into the night briefly crossed Clelk's mind, but he rejected the idea almost immediately. He wasn't some young runt anymore - back when he was an apprentice, Clelk was foolish enough to work the forge all through the night, trying to impress his master with his productivity. He learned the error of forging in the dark while extremely exhausted, and he had the burn scars to prove it. Forging something besides a single sword in a day was a nice idea, but forging took a long time, so Clelk had no choice but to settle for that. Not that he was really complaining, considering forging was such hard work in the first place - the only reason he wanted to make another weapon was to squeeze someone else dry of animal pelts.

Clelk never really got the status attached to swords in the tribe - was it just because they were so costly and difficult to make? Compared to a spear,  swords usually weren't as good in a fight. But then again, Cyrus paid a very nice price for a weapon like this, so Clelk didn't really have a right to question him. Those pelts more than made up for what he lost buying his pot, and the dry wood saved him a trip to the forest. Clelk stretched his rotund body, before grabbing the completed sword and his Iron Pot. He'd find Cyrus as soon as he could, and then start making dinner.