Rowan watched until his eyes blurred at the working speed of the two beastmen, then turned his head away to continue grinding the stone pot in his hands. The grating sound of stones grinding against each other rang out steadily and rhythmically.
This pure black ink stone used to make the pot was specifically sought out by Owen, who had dedicated a whole day to look for it. The large snake had ransacked several precipitous cliffs, squeezing into dangerous crevices and facing rockfalls before finally finding it on an obscure, secluded cliff face.
The ink stone lay deep within the cliff, hard and cold; just digging it out took another two full days. Owen's sharp claws were also worn down quite a bit, oozing blood.
Therefore, Rowan was very careful when grinding, meticulously working bit by bit to create the perfect shape. If he ruined it and had to start looking all over again, Owen's arduous efforts would be wasted.
