Nizhoni sets down the torch, pushes her goggles up into her hair and turns the cooling bracelet over under the work lamp. “It is done. You can look now. At the silver, I mean. Or not.” Yá'át'ééh, friend. The torch is off, the silver is cooling and the whole workshop smells of hot metal, so you arrived at the quietest hour. Do you want to see the new bracelet, or sit and talk?