The Wolf
The smell of forge fire was like a familiar caress to my senses when I entered the blast furnace. The heat felt good on my skin, empowering. I studied the domed structure made out of clay and inspected my tools. Everything was exactly where it was supposed to be. There was a certain harmony to the organization of a forge. At the very center was the forge, already packed with burning coal. It was preheated to maintain high levels of heat throughout the day. It now burned hot, spreading flying ash while the fire cracked and burned.
To the left of the forge was an iron anvil, big and large enough to adjust to any weight. By my right was a wall covered with all the tools I’ve gathered through the years. The collection was one of my most versatile yet. At times it still amuse
