@junesballoon
Toni plodded forward, large sack pulled behind her. The sack, like it’s many contents and carrier, was shabby, scavenged, but wholly serviceable. Even with her hard-scrabble lean muscles after years of climbing and caving in the wilderness it was unlikely that Toni herself could have carried so much without her accompanying earth-attunement. And it did accompany her as it usually did, like a trusted friend, the heavy sack being carried along by the gentle roll of sand and earth.
A low and soft rumble of earth following her before she stopped dead in front of her ‘target’ of the evening. She looked this June up and down, having never met her before but squaring her up from the descriptions she’s heard from other’s.
“Yer the tinker what fell to the island, ain’t ya? Or a whatsit they’ll call it now. Tink-ess. I ain’t got a mind for new fangled names an’ such.” Without so much as an introduction Toni grunted and hefted the sack over her shoulder and dumped out loads of junk right at the other women’s feet. She sniffed up, peering past the tangled mass of her hair with an expression of disbelief that wasn’t entirely warranted. “Got a whole heap of mess fore ya’ just them odds and ends I done gathered up over all my years. Ain't’ got the heart to throw ‘em way but I ain’t got no use fer ‘em myself.”