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She groaned when she realised she’d dropped another stitch and had to unravel half the row to pick it back up. Anah watched patiently, her knitting needles moving faster than Cadence’s eyes could keep track on, before she returned to her crochet hook and the black yarn she was attempting to make into a shawl for Morrigan’s birthday.
“Why is this so hard,” she complained, more generally to the room than to Anah, but Anah replied anyway. “Because you’re bad at it and you need to practise. Watch your tension, Cadence. You know they make rings to help with that?”