<div class="floatleft">(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v252/HlySd/e74b6b77-008b-49a2-8c78-ce6bab7f6126_zps50f84067.jpg)</div><strong>Character name</strong>: Naegge' yaas Naat<br/><strong>Who:</strong>Ne'iine<br/><strong>Where:</strong>Kayax Outskirts just shy outside the village<br/><strong>When: </strong>W/e time it is<br/><hr/><br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;">After Dat’aeki had taken the cloth from him, Nae had returned to work—as expected. He typically gave others a moment of his time. Setting down the draw as Ne’iine curiously approached him, Nae groped at the log beneath him, running his hands over the stripped wood, inspecting it for any remaining bark strips. The process hadn’t been exactly safe but he had no other way of telling if he was finished. As Ne’iine thanked him, she could see yellowish-white splinters piercing the craftsman’s fingers some being too weak to fully pierce the exterior skin, while others were sharp enough to draw tiny spots of blood.<br/><br/>Her question about his shirt made the artisan hesitant to answer. Why would she concern herself about his shirt? What it really had been was the slight emotion he had felt behind the question. He scooted back along the log, inspecting it down to the end without a wince before he stood and beat his hands upon his pants to rid them of the splinters.<br/><br/>“I do not,” Nae confessed in regards to his shirt, and then answered, “Just another totem.”<br/><br/>The Tikaan knelt and felt about the snow for his mallet and chisel. Feeling both, he grasped the tools and walked down the length of the log and once again took a seat upon it. With the side of his hand, he brushed it over to get an idea of what he was working on, and then set the chisel as he began to hammer away. He chipped a few chunks from it and then felt it over, and then chipped some more.</span>