Carson wasted no time in returning to the shack he'd been given by the less-aware townsfolk. He gathered his food and other supplies, picked a few of the intelligence binders Gregor had left, and transported it all in one trip back to the cottage. He set it all on the table and busied himself sorting and arranging the goods, storing food and supplies where he could find them readily. It took him a while to ponder through the ramifications, but eventually he even removed his armored jerkin and supply belt. The armor was hung from a peg on the wall, and he took the belt outside with him to prepare to destroy the knife.<br/><br/>To that end he used his hatchet to down a few smaller trees, then cut them into smaller pieces. He took some of the oil he used to keep his blade rust-free and used it to kickstart the fire, then arranged a few metal panels to help contain the heat. He lacked a bellows or bricks, though he doubted he'd need to melt the metal down entirely. The heat alone would serve to inoculate the metal, then he could bury the blade good and deep. As he knelt next to the flames he pondered what it would take to actually build a proper kiln. There had to be clay at least relatively nearby. With any water source and soil clay was readily available. Fashioning bricks out of that would be simple enough. He stood upright, looking into the flames and the cherry-red edges of the metal panels as he thought, one hand on his hip, the other idly spinning his hatchet at his side.<br/><br/>Footsteps tugged him out of his stare and he looked up as Malia returned. "There you are, right on time. No issues, I assume?"