He didn't have a thermometer, but he had a better tool—the ice and snow of the entire Labrador Peninsula.
He picked up the boiling iron pot and walked to the entrance of the shelter, where he stomped a flat snow pit into the ground. Then he steadily placed the bottom of the iron pot in the snow pit.
"Sizzle—"
With a soft hiss, the snow contacting the bottom of the pot instantly melted and evaporated, releasing a puff of white steam. The snow was efficiently absorbing the heat from the iron pot and the wolf oil.
He didn't walk away but squatted nearby, using a clean small wooden stick to occasionally stir the oil, feeling the change in viscosity.
The boiling oil was very thin, and as the temperature dropped, it gradually became viscous.
About half a minute later, he lifted the stick, noticing that the dripping speed of the oil on it had significantly slowed down; the temperature had dropped to a suitable level.
"Now is the crucial moment for mixing."
