The shell hardened unevenly.
Ysabet learned this by watching Pip try to scratch its own back. One rear foot reached the lower plate and clicked against it. The same foot reached the upper edge and sank enough to make the creature flinch. It withdrew, offended, and tried another leg.
“Let me look,” she said.
Pip moved away.
She waited. It circled the water dish, inspected a crumb, and came back to the low platform Chaska had made. There she could see the unfinished rim without touching it. A thin line of soft tissue ran where the shell met the old folds. The line had no clean way of carrying weight yet.
Suth sat on a stool nearby, stitching a tear in her cloak’s ordinary lining. The work took longer than the small tear appeared to warrant. She threaded the needle twice before succeeding.
“Does it need minerals?” Ysabet asked.
“Yes. But more material won’t tell it where to put that material.”
