With the path now cleared, Athan stepped aside and gave a small nod.

"We're ready."

Without needing further instruction, Ok, Yun, and Wade moved toward the cart.

The three of them worked in sync, heading to the lumber stockpile near the cliff—where longer trees had been set aside weeks ago, drying slowly in the sun. They searched for the sturdier trunks, the ones just over five meters long, thick enough to bear weight, straight enough to span the river.

Grunting with effort, they hoisted the first of them up and onto the cart, then another, then a third—stacking them carefully with rough rope and branches wedged beneath to keep them from rolling.

Athan followed alongside as they pushed the load back down the cleared path, the wheels creaking slightly under the weight. Once at the river's edge, they unloaded the logs one by one, laying them neatly along the side of the new path.

Then, without a word, they turned around and went back.

The second trip was faster.

And the third, smoother still.

By the time the last logs were laid down, a decent pile rested near the riverbank—each trunk cut, peeled, and stacked in the same direction.

Athan walked over, checked the ends of a few for cracks, tested the weight with a push of his foot, then turned back toward the group.

"That's enough," he said. "It's good for now."

Wade nodded, wiping his brow.

Yun stretched his arms with a grunt. "Heavy."

Ok let out a breath and leaned on the cart. "Logs not light."

Athan allowed himself a small smile. "No, but we're close."

Wade glanced back at the cart. "At least not carry all on shoulder."

Yun gave a short laugh. "Cart good idea."

Ok nodded. "Better than back pain."

Athan chuckled.

He walked to the edge of the water and crouched, eyeing the river's width once more. Then he turned to the others and tapped the nearest log with his boot.

"All right," he said, turning to the three men. "Here's how we'll do it."

He picked up one of the smaller branches nearby and drew a rough outline in the dirt.

"We take the first log. Set it upright on the edge of the water, just like this—" he mimed placing it vertically. "Then we let it fall. The river's not too wide. It'll reach the other side."

Yun raised an eyebrow. "Just drop it?"

Athan nodded. "Letting it fall into place is easier than lifting it across. Once it's down, we do the same with the second one—place it beside the first."

Wade looked toward the water, nodding slowly.

"After that," Athan continued, "one of us can walk across. Just balance on the two logs, step by step. From the other side, it'll be easier to adjust them. Shift their ends until they sit right on both banks."

Ok rubbed his chin, already picturing it. "Then next log, same way?"

"Exactly," Athan said. "One by one. Line them up side by side. No rope, no lifting across. Just drop, adjust, and move on."

He smiled faintly. "Easy peasy."

Wade grunted in approval. "We start now?"

Athan gave a nod. "Yeah. Let's get the first one on the water."

After that, they worked together to roll the first log closer to the edge.

Wade and Yun positioned themselves at each end while Athan stood nearby, pointing out where to place it. Ok cleared away a few last roots and stones from the bank, giving them a cleaner spot to set the base.

"Right there," Athan said, tapping the ground with his foot. "Line it straight."

Wade gave a short grunt and nodded. "Hold it. We push."

With a final heave, the two men tipped the log upright at the river's edge. For a moment, it stood balanced—then, with a hollow thump and a splash, it fell forward and landed across the water, one end settling heavily onto the opposite shore.

The log bounced once before rocking into place.

It reached. Not perfect, but it reached.

"First one's good," Athan said with a small grin.

They repeated the process with the second log, positioning it just beside the first. When it fell, the two trunks lay parallel, spaced just enough to walk on with care.

Ok stepped forward and pressed one foot down onto the wood.

"Still hold."

Yun looked toward the far bank. "Who go?"

Before Athan could speak, Wade set his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Not you," he said simply. "Too small."

Athan didn't argue.

"I go," Wade added, already moving toward the edge.

He placed one foot on the first trunk, then the second, walking slowly, arms raised slightly for balance. The logs shifted under his weight—but held.

In less than a minute, he made it across.

Wade crouched low on the far bank, gripping the ends of both logs. He shifted one slightly, pressing it tighter against the earth, then nodded toward them.

"Better now," he called.

The others grabbed the third log, and the process continued.

Place. Tip. Adjust.

Wade guided from the far side while Ok and Yun handled the weight. Athan remained nearby, giving small directions, checking alignments, and making sure they stayed on track.

By the time the last log fell into place, the bridge was there—simple, uneven, but strong.

A real crossing.

The last log had barely settled when a sharp sound broke through the air—leaves rustling, then footsteps pounding against the forest floor.

Athan turned, eyes narrowing.

From between the trees, Ulf emerged first, bow in hand, arrow already nocked. Behind him came Def, Nuk, and Thad, equally armed, their eyes scanning the area with sharp focus.

They slowed only when they spotted the familiar faces—Athan, Ok, Wade, and Yun—standing at the riverbank.

"Hold!" Wade raised both hands. "No danger here."

Ulf lowered his bow slightly but didn't fully relax. "We heard wood crash. Sound loud. Not normal."

"We were dropping logs," Athan said, stepping forward. "Building a bridge."

Ulf's eyes flicked toward the row of tree trunks now spanning the river. His expression shifted from caution to surprise.

"A bridge?" he repeated.

Yun crossed his arms, nodding. "To other side."

Ok added, "To get more trees. Maybe stone."

Athan pointed across the water. "We want to expand the wall later. Build more. Safer if we can reach farther."

Ulf approached the edge, his boots crunching softly against the cleared path. He studied the bridge for a long moment—its rough layout, the steady spacing of the trunks, the fresh marks in the dirt and bark.

Then he looked back at the boy.

"No one cross," he said firmly. "Not yet."

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Athan blinked. "Why?"

"Not safe," Ulf said. "We don't know what's there. We hunt in this side only. Other forest… could be anything. Bigger cats. Holes. Cliff. Even people."

Wade stepped up beside Athan, his arms folded. "You check it?"

Ulf nodded. "We go. Soon. We follow trail, go far. Make map. Then you cross."

Athan hesitated, then gave a slow nod. "All right."

Ulf finally lowered his bow fully and turned slightly. Behind him, Def, Nuk, and Thad relaxed as well, slinging their bows across their backs.

"We bring birds," Ulf added, lifting a hand to show the two large fowl they carried. "Camp eats well today."

"Twice in a row," Wade muttered with a smirk.

"Better with bows," Ulf said simply, then glanced back at the bridge. "You built good thing. Just wait."

And with that, the hunters turned, already speaking quietly among themselves, likely planning their next move deeper into the forest.

Athan stayed there a moment longer, looking across the newly formed path—and into the unknown that waited on the other side.

With the bridge now in place and the hunters reassured, the group began to move again.

Wade wiped his hands on his tunic and looked back toward the village. "We go finish house now," he said simply.

Ok and Yun nodded in agreement, and the three men turned to follow the path back along the cleared stretch, the cart now empty behind them.

Athan walked alongside them for a short while before slowing his steps, watching as they returned to the wooden frame rising at the center of the village.

Within minutes, the men were back at work.

Ok was adjusting one of the corner joints, tapping a wedge deeper into place. Yun lifted another plank into position. Wade helped brace it from below.

The sound of tools, wood, and quiet conversation returned to the air.

Athan approached just as Wade looked up from a freshly placed plank.

"Walls done tomorrow," the older man said, giving the boy a small nod. "Almost there."

Athan's face lit up with joy. "Really?"

"Mm," Wade grunted. "Only that wall left."

But before he could say more, Ok straightened, arms crossed, his face thoughtful.

"Door not ready," he said.

Athan blinked. "Still thinking?"

Ok nodded slowly. "Want better idea. Not same like wall. Strong, but easier to open."

"That's fine," Athan replied, still smiling. "Take your time. Once the walls are done, we can start moving inside. Even without a door."

He looked around the growing village—the new brick shelters, the walls protecting them, the fires at the kilns, the shelf of drying bricks.

"We'll start changing things soon," he added. "Making everything fit better."

Ok gave a quiet nod, then returned to his measuring stick, marking the door frame again with charcoal.

Athan stood there a moment longer, watching.

After a few more minutes watching the house take shape, Athan turned on his heel and made his way back toward the kilns.

Kali and Lara were nowhere in sight—likely off preparing the days meal—but judging by the heat still rising from the fire channels, they must have returned recently to feed the flames. The fire was still strong, flickering brightly beneath the stone domes.

He crouched near the first kiln and reached for a long, thin branch, stripped of its bark. Moving carefully, he slid it into a small inspection hole on the side of the dome.

The tip passed easily through one of the lime stones inside.

Athan pulled it back quickly.

The end of the stick was dusted white—soft, dry, and clinging faintly to the wood.

He tapped it gently against a nearby beam. Powder scattered into the air.

He nodded once, then moved to the second kiln and repeated the process.

Same result.

White. Powdered. Ready.

Athan allowed himself a quiet breath of relief. Perfect. The lime stone had fully transformed.

No need to keep feeding the flames.

He dropped the testing stick gently onto the ground and brushed his palms against his legs, then straightened.

There was no need to keep feeding the flames anymore. The heat would taper down on its own, and by tomorrow, they'd be able to open the kilns safely and begin collecting the lime powder.

Satisfied, Athan turned away from the glow and walked calmly toward the new brick shelter, his steps light, the weight of the morning's labor already starting to fade.

Athan reached the new brick shelter and stepped inside, the scent of damp clay still hanging in the air.

The shade from the angled roof was welcome, and thin rays of sunlight filtered through the gaps in the walls, casting soft lines across the racks.

The bricks laid out here were fresh—still dark and slightly glossy with moisture. Their edges were clean, shaped with care, and spaced evenly for drying.

He moved carefully between the rows, counting them in silence, one by one.

173 brick.

A good batch. The girls had worked steadily.

He stepped back and turned toward the first shelter, where the older bricks were fully dry. He had made and counted each of those himself.

186 brick.

Together, that made 359 bricks, ready to dry. Once those ready they would have a pretty good batch to fire.

Athan knelt briefly, running his fingers along the edge of one of the fresh bricks. Still soft on the bottom, just as expected. They'd need more sun and at least another a week or more before they could even think about firing them.

He stood again, brushing his hands clean.

With the sun beginning its slow descent behind the trees, Athan knew the day was nearly done.

He took one last look around the work area, then began gathering up the tools that had been scattered throughout the day. Each piece found its place in the shelter.

Once everything was tidy, he gave a final glance toward the kilns—still warm, but safe to leave for now—then turned and headed back toward the center of the village.

The scent of fresh fish and smoke met him halfway.

He found Lara and Kali near the firepit, crouched over the cleaned fish from the trap they'd checked earlier. Scaled and gutted, the fish now rested on flat stones, ready to be skewered for smoking.

Kali was already threading one onto a stick while Lara adjusted the stones around the small side-fire they'd started.

Without a word, Athan stepped up beside them.

"Need water?" he asked.

Lara looked up with a small smile. "Yes. Fill the cooking pot please."

"I'll get it," he said, already turning toward the path.

He grabbed one of the large wooden pots sitting near the fire and carried it toward the river. The water was cooler now, and the breeze off the surface brought a light chill to his arms.

He filled the first pot carefully, then returned and drop the water inside the cooking pot . He continue to make trip until the pot was full.

By the time he finish, the first few fish were already smoking gently over the low flame, the aroma mixing with the evening air.

Lara wiped her hands and glanced at him. "You always know when to show up."

Athan smirked faintly, setting the second pot down. "Just in time to avoid gutting them."

Kali snorted. "We save next one for you."

He laughed under his breath. Thinking of going inspecting the house again now.

Once the cooking pot was full, Lara moved with practiced ease, grabbing the long tongs resting near the edge of the fire. With care, she reached into the glowing coals and pulled out a few charred, heat-soaked stones, their surfaces glowing faintly red.

She dropped them one by one into the water.

A sharp hiss rose from the pot with each one, steam curling into the air as the water inside began to tremble and ripple from the sudden heat.

After a few moments, bubbles began to form, small at first, then building into a gentle boil.

Lara set the tongs aside and began to add the ingredients.

First came the root vegetables—thick chunks of wild tubers and sliced bulbs, followed by a handful of aromatic herbs Rael had been drying over the past week. Their sharp, green scent mixed quickly with the steam.

Finally, she added the main ingredient: strips of smoked bird meat from the hunt of the day before. Dark, rich, and already seasoned by fire, the meat sank into the broth with a satisfying sizzle as the stew took shape.

Nearby, the fresh birds caught that morning were now being smoked on skewers over the low side-fire—already drying, already preparing for future meals.

Athan watched in silence for a moment, the firelight catching faintly in his eyes.

Athan remained near the fire, crouched beside the girls while the stew continued to bubble.

The three of them talked quietly, voices low and relaxed. Kali made a few light jokes about the fish still twitching earlier, and Lara responded with mock seriousness about how she'd almost dropped one into the fire. Athan laughed more with his eyes than his voice, just glad to be there, sharing the moment.

From time to time, he glanced at the cooking pot, watching the surface shift as the steam thickened.

Then came the smell.

Rich, savory, full.

Lara leaned over, gave the pot one final stir with a carved wooden ladle, then nodded to herself in approval.

"It's ready," she said aloud.

She stood, brushed her hands on her thighs, and turned toward the clearing. "Come eat!" she called.

Her voice carried clearly.

One by one, people began to rise from where they had been sitting or working—near the shelter making textile, around the construction site, or finishing small tasks in the fading light. They moved calmly, quietly, forming a line in front of Lara, bowls in hand.

She stood beside the pot, using the bowl to scope out the stew with care.

The first to approach received a generous serving—chunks of root, strips of meat, floating herbs and a warm, fragrant broth.

She nodded at each one with a faint smile.

Behind her, Kali tended the fire, occasionally adjusting a smoking fish or brushing away stray ash from the edge of the stones. Athan remained seated, watching as his people—his clan—filed past, greeted Lara with quiet thanks, and stepped aside to enjoy their evening meal.

Once the last bowl had been filled and the line had thinned, Lara stepped back from the pot and handed her own bowl to Kali before grabbing another for herself.

She and Kali made their way over to where Athan was sitting near the fire, and the three of them settled side by side—shoulder to shoulder, steam rising gently from their wooden bowls.

They ate slowly, in no rush. The stew was hot and filling, the smoked meat rich, and the root vegetables soft and fragrant. The fire crackled quietly nearby, and for a while, no one said much at all.

Only when the bowls were mostly empty did the quiet voices resume—low laughs, a few whispered comments about the day, and gentle teasing between bites.

As the meal wound down, Athan's gaze drifted.

Across the clearing, he spotted Ulf and the other hunters gathered in a semicircle around a flat piece of bark paper. Ulf had a stick of charcoal in one hand, and he seemed to be sketching the outline of the forest as the others described what they remembered—paths, clearings, rocky outcrops, and streams.

Not far from them, another group had formed—this time around Rael and a few other women. They were patiently teaching a small group of men how to hold the branch and form letters on the ground. Some of the men struggled, hunched in concentration, while others looked on with curious smiles, slowly tracing symbols in the dirt.

Athan watched for a while, then slowly stood and walked to his shelter.

From inside, he retrieved his wooden flute, he had made smooth trough use. He returned to the fire, sat back down, and lifted the instrument to his lips.

The first few notes rose gently into the air, weaving between the voices, between the cracking wood and rustling grass. One by one, conversations slowed, and people turned their heads to listen.

The melody was soft, simple, like a heartbeat drifting into the night.

It didn't ask for attention.

It simply existed—a sound of peace, of home.

He played until his fingers felt warm from the wood and the firelight danced low. Then, as the last note faded, he lowered the flute and rested it on his knees.

The moment stretched.

Then, Rael stepped forward, her presence calm but unmistakable. Gal and Fi walked quietly beside her, one on each side.

A hush fell over the clearing.

Rael raised one hand, then spoke, her voice clear and steady.

"Tonight, I share news."

She paused, letting her words settle.

"Gal and Fi are with child."

The silence was complete. A stillness.

Then—

A cheer broke out near the fire. A second by the racks. Laughter and cries of joy echoed across the clearing as the truth took hold.

Ok, standing by the drying shelter, let out a breathless laugh, then raised both hands in pure joy, moving to embrace Fi.

Nuk, frozen for a heartbeat, suddenly turned to Gal, eyes wide. She gave him a shy smile—and he pulled her into a tight hug, lifting her slightly off her feet.

One by one, the villagers stood, walking toward the two couples. Some clapped, others cheered, a few simply touched shoulders and smiled. Congratulations flowed like water, rippling from one person to the next.

Rael waited until the crowd quieted slightly before continuing.

"They will leave the lumber group starting tomorrow," she said. "No more lifting beams. They will join the textile team instead. Safer work. No risk."

Everyone nodded.

No one questioned the change.

Only joy remained.

The fire crackled on.

The sky had darkened, but the light in the village burned bright, carried by the voices, the laughter, and the promise of new life.

It was on that note—surrounded by warmth, community, and the future taking shape—that the day finally came to a close.

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