After what felt like an hour, time that stretched the way it always did when you were forcing your brain to do something it had never done before, Kael leaned back and let out a slow breath through his nose.
Working with what little leather he had left, he managed to create a glove.
It was ugly. There was no polite way around that. It looked like something a desperate man would stitch together in the dark while cursing at every step, patchwork layered on patchwork, seams pulled too tight in some places and too loose in others, the shape slightly off so that the fingers sat a fraction too long. But it was a glove nonetheless, and the important part was that it held together.
