"Uhm....a mug." It was the first thing that popper into her head she thought could be useful to her. She looked at the hunk of clay. Before she took any tools, her hands lifted, even with her torso. She cupped them together, trying to imagine a mug in her hands. They moved around some, adjusting and turning and tilting, as if she were examining a real mug, though invisible, in her hands. Her eyebrows furrowed.
She stepped forward and took the wire, slicing down the moist clay. She took it in her hands, feeling the weight of it. She was not a potter, which was obvious because she had asked to learn, but her mother had been a mason. She knew that wet clay and stone and even mortar were heavier when wet. Deciding it wasn't enough, she took more clay, rolling it all over in her hands, before presenting it to Amun with a questioning look.
