Michael's Forge

The past few months were probably the worst of his life. He felt like he was in a dream where he couldnt wake up, but he didnt care. He was liking his stay, his crafting, he was making a lot of weapons for the camp. He and his pesky furry friend had spent most of the days in his forge. When night would roll over he would still just be in his forge pounding away. He was just thankful to be, very rarely, disturbed. He prayed to his father twice a day. 2 o'clock and 4 o'clock. His favorite hours of the day. The sun seemed to be coolest, yet his forge burned the hottest then. He figured it was a blessing.He looked to his cat and smiled as she brushed up against his leg, some of her fur had been singed off for the whole month of getting too close to the flame. By now she had learned, plus the help of his craftsmanship. a large system of railing and fencing had taken over most of the forge. He shook his head as his cat went to nap on the top platform and began hammering again, not even stirring her.