It had started out as a necessity, and then became a whim.

It began when the sleeve of her tunic ripped and Maha could find neither needle nor thread. Maha, when she went to purchase the thread, had been forced to buy an entire spool of thread, which both annoyed and cost her more money then she had wanted to give up.

The rip had been easy enough to take care of, but when she had finished, Maha did not clean up and put away her supplies. Instead, for a few minutes, she stared at the excess thread on her lap, and twiddled her new needle between her fingers. The thread had been expensive, but it would take up valuable space in her bag if she ever had to leave. It would be such a waste if she had to leave it behind. Maha stared at the thread for a while longer before it occurred to her that it had been a very long while since she had done any embroidery.

So Maha had taken the shirt, needle and thread out into the sun, behind the house Thomas had rented, where she would have the best light. She sketched out a small pattern she remembered was popular when she was young. Once she had settled herself in the (warm, but not hot) sun, she began her work. It was familiar, soothing work to her. If it were not for the fact that she was somewhat exhausted from lack of sleep, Maha would call herself relaxed.