Well, this looked promising. After rolling away some stiffness in her shoulders, Miriam fished out a sample of her recent discovery from the newest shallow hole she'd dug. They were a cluster of pebbles, almost black and lightly speckled. She moved them around in her palm and used her other hand to pluck one for better examination. Near instantly her mildly annoyed expression shifted, mouth twisting into irrepressible disgust.

Rocks did not squish between claws. Neither did they possess the stench that was beginning to saturate her paw and waft into her nostrils. If her scales could change color, they would've affected a distinctive greenish tinge. In quick response to rapidly ramping repulsion, the awful collection of droppings were flung toward the farthest cave wall.

Body trembling, Miriam shook out her paws and nearly doubled over. Her tongue strained while air rasped past it. Calm eventually settled in and put this bout of dry-heaving to an end. She then straightened up, one thought foremost in her mind: regardless of the time wasted by the trip, she needed to wash her paws in the closest stream, preferably until scales threatened to peel away.

Awful. Truly horrible. This was why she needed others; poking around in muck was dirty work of the highest, most humiliating degree and very much not meant for a being of her stature and poise.

After a quick excursion, she returned to the drudgery of mundane labor, her paws clean. Water still trickled down claws from their recent wash, but this didn't interfere much with the resumed digging, other than wet clumps of dirt clinging to scales as she bore once more into the earth. Miriam's eyes glared daggers into the spot she excavated, each thrust of her paw akin to a stab.

Any insight to her mind would've revealed an angry haze of whispers: How outrageous was it to waste so much time on burrowing around like some overgrown rabbit. Scrounging in shit wasn't a job suited for her, so why couldn't she impress someone else into this filth-infested service. Above all, why was this taking so long? Why were ordinary rocks, a far from rare resource, so difficult to find in this tunnel of all places?

Eventually a brain boiling with impatience was given a small relief for its pain, and Miriam rose from her hunched position, a dismissive huff gusting past her lips. Cradled in her paws was a collection of rocks of varying shades ranging from pitch black to light gray. While most were pebbles, the largest was a sizeable chunk that fit into a quarter of her palm.

That would be enough humiliation for today. Onward to a more satisfying use of her energy: mixing up the dyes and applying them to her sad little attempt at a statuette.

Despite Miriam's dainty affectations, she possessed no illusions that her paws were too fragile to attempt crushing and grinding stone into usable powder. Being one of the larger creatures encountered in the caves, she'd often displayed her strength well on hunts, carrying limp prey away to a secluded spot to devour after casually snapping their necks. For all her prowess, however, she suspected it'd take longer to reduce these pebbles into a dye-ready state if she relied solely on this. Although like stones could scratch each other into eventual oblivion, use of a gem's hard edges would likely expedite the process some and save hours of her already limited patience. Fortunately for such a small figurine as the one she'd carved into existence, the recent trove of supplies she just uncovered could be considered a surplus, and a segment could be sacrificed in pursuit of this easier method.

A claw sorted through the gathered pebbles and sectioned off the smallest in one paw while shifting the rest to the other. Carefully separating the cradle she'd previously made, Miriam made a tight fist around these rejected stones and concentrated, tension building in her jaws from the effort. Heat erupted against scales, fingers loosened, and with her emitting an undignified yelp, uncontained pressure blew apart her grip. The stones, broken into even tinier pieces, scattered onto the ground.

After examining her palm for any abrasions, a scowl emerged onto her face. It appeared she'd underestimated the power required to complete such a feat. Having received her lesson, she wouldn't dare repeat this spectacular incompetence. An idiot might be willing to endure many failures of the same degree with a cheerful grin and never progress further, but she intended to learn. Suffering more humiliation over simple tasks wasn't an option allowed.

No need to sacrifice more stones from her palm. The ones she'd failed to compress into a more useful form, while fragmented, hadn't crumbled into entirely unsalvageable dust. Executing another attempt required only scooping them back into the paw they'd fallen out of. Suppressing a groan, she did this, tightened claws once more around the somewhat diminished collection, and forced willpower down her wrist through a narrower channel than previously.

Magic was a tool. A means to an end. She would wield it, and not vice versa.

The aforementioned didn't receive that memo. Although no explosive backlash greeted her effort this time, her sole reward was the dull ache building in finger joints due to clenching so fervently. A low hiss rose in Miriam's throat, and although she never voiced her boiling thoughts, they grew increasingly lurid with each refusal to obey such an insignificant command. This was unacceptable. Her rock-grinder would form even if she'd have to manage strangling her obstinate magic into meek compliance.

Sore fingers were given a brief respite as she eased off the throttle, their grip loosening minutely. Regaining mental and physical strength would be key to tackling this irritating obstacle again. The presence of both might allow her to vault over the entire problem. Upon a deep inhale, dwindling calm was rescued from the churn of more tempestuous emotions and sequestered to the remotest recesses of her heart so that it might flourish again. Statue-still, she reaffirmed control over her destiny until confidence became absolute.

Miriam breathed out the last vestiges of cooling anger. Her fist reclenched, insistence on a particular outcome pressed into it. Instant rejection followed, more intent on making an idiot out of her than before. The paw squeezed shut, while it didn't release the pebbles, had to direct energy spiraling out of control somewhere; an uppercut to the jaw silenced the tatzelwurm's beginning yowl of distress. Stars burst in her vision.

Far from a barbarian but possessing quite impressive strength due to her size, Miriam was ill-prepared for being on the receiving end of a keel-scaled blow to the face. At least her natural armor extended to more than her body, so despite the blunt force rattling eye sockets, no open wounds marred delicate features and rendered them less approachable to the simpletons wandering the caves. Nevertheless once tremors ceased rocking her lower jaw, lips curled back. Whatever lady she endeavored to appear to be shrank away, and the predator beneath fully emerged, intent on violence but frustrated by the absence of deserving targets.

"Blasted ability!" she hissed down at her clenched and throbbing fist. "Work! I refuse to be cast as fate's personal circus clown."

A scraping sound emitted from between claws. The pebbles held within shifted, forces applied dragging them toward the center of her palm where they crumbled and condensed into something of greater durability than each individually had. Feeling this change and the built pressure contained inside her closed paw fading away, curiosity nudged aside the flashing fury in the tatzelwurm's blue eyes. Feline pride rose, a purr vibrating throughout her chest, when she witnessed the final results: a chunk of indigo gemstone, rough-edged but vibrant.

"Ahh. You'll do nicely."

It was an ugly first effort, but that mattered not. She needed this for more practical purposes than jewelry.

This second great frustration dismissed, no reason existed to linger any further on the ground where any passerby could witness her indignity. Miriam retreated once more to the welcome shelter of the canopy, slithering back to the same branch she'd briefly abandoned her supplies and halfway finished figurine to. Fortunately no Lessers had exhibited thieving proclivities while she'd gone; perhaps they'd scented the danger which had inhabited this workspace and thought better of risking her wrath. A wishful scenario, perhaps, but the possibility soothed the unfortunate inflammation that had been inflicted upon her pride. She returned to her work with fevered purpose, determined in enhancing its good qualities and diminishing its many flaws through a carefully applied coating of paint.

The gem chunk used as her grinder, the remaining pebbles were painstakingly pulverized into fine particles. Bark stripped from a tree trunk she'd torn loose on the journey up its side served as a palette and she deposited the resulting dust there in a clump. Saliva dripped into this pile, and claws mixed it into a thin paste. In the absence of proper tools like her chisel and blades, a leaf was used as a brush, dipped into the concoction, and dragged over rough wood grain worn smooth under a knife's glide. This method she repeated for the other materials, the messiest of which proved to be the berries naturally. The juice made their particular paint especially runny compared to the rest. Feathers were the hardest to coax dye out of, the plume soaked in her mouth before being mashing apart. For each application of a new paint, she used a new leaf, contamination not a risk she desired courting when colors needed to be distinct in their application.

Doubtless this statuette had every indication of being an amateur's work when she finished. Wonky proportions and shoddy detailing plainly displayed the fact. A grimace touched her face as she angled her handiwork around in a hand, noting the uneven areas where paint had been layered on heavier than others. Nevertheless the completed product had managed to be elevated the slightest as the shaky brushwork had given it the tiniest spark of life. The eyes especially were its most compelling feature, pale yellow-green dots that almost seemed to glow. Maybe if Hades were to see this, he'd accept it as a rendering of some distant deformed relative instead of himself. Better that than to fully admit to her lack of skill.

The next one would be a vast improvement, surely, now that she was acquainted with the numerous possible missteps taken in the pursuit of fine art. Never would she allow herself worse humiliation than this first attempt had brought.