~Cave~

Daragh takes the letter from the bird's foot. He unrolls it, but not before wiping his hands on a rag, scans over it, then goes over and hands it to Beneton. "Do we need to make another classroom, Ben?" He sighs, glancing over at a pile of stone and wood and at his usually soft, rarely worked hands.

Daragh smiles happily, pushing a jar of clay back into place on its shelf in his classroom. He turns around to gaze upon the freshly renovated room, grinning wide, his hands on his hips, leaving spots on his palms where there was still-wet paint on his tunic. He imagines scores of people in the room, all desiring to carry on the trade that he's so passionate about. As he thinks about the future, a pot of paint is rattled off its shelf as Adrian walks past with a roll of bandages. The pot of paint crashes on his head, staining his head and shoulders a bright pink. He stands silent for a second in suprise, and then bursts out in laughter.