The wind in Veirdale always whispered.
Through the cracked bones of old trees, across scorched stone and blackened grass, it carried the ghosts of what once tried to grow here.
Kail stood in the clearing that used to be his family's village. Smoke still lingered faintly, curling up from collapsed rooftops. The well had survived. So had a few half-burned wagons, a crate of cracked pickaxes, and—by some miracle—his father's toolkit.
He crouched beside it, fingers running over the rusted hinge of the box. The tools were half-melted from heat. The hammer was intact. So was the measuring rope. And there, wrapped in old oilcloth, was a handaxe.
He gripped it tightly.
"I remember this," he whispered. "You carved my name in a post with it, didn't you, old man?"
Objective Update: Shelter Construction in Progress Requirements: – 4x Drel Bark Panels – 6x Support Poles – 1x Stone Foundation Reward: +5 KP New Feature: [Stability Rating: 38% — Upgrade recommended]
"Yeah, yeah, stability. One thing at a time."
He looked toward the drel trees at the edge of the clearing. They stood tall, gray bark coiled like muscle fibers. They weren't trees back on Earth, but they looked close enough to ancient willows—tough bark, fibrous inside, slightly sweet sap that could be boiled into glue.
One swing of the axe jarred him to the elbow.
"Damn," he muttered. "Guess my ten-year-old muscles aren't ready for this."
Still, he kept chopping, alternating arms like he used to do at the gym back in Jakarta. Between swings, his mind drifted.
His father would have made a joke. "Wood doesn't chop itself, but you can sure pretend it does if you yell loud enough."
His mother would have told him to brace the tree before making the final cut. Always the tactician.
He missed them so much it hurt. But he wasn't going to let that grief freeze him.
By mid-morning, he had enough bark and two solid poles. Not much, but enough to feel like momentum. He took a break near the well, sipping the cold water that somehow remained untainted.
Then a voice spoke behind him.
"You work like a lost goat."
Kail nearly dropped his axe. He turned to find a girl—maybe twelve—watching him with a tilted head and wary eyes. She wore a tattered green tunic, feet bare, hair matted but alive. Human, or something like it. Her ears were slightly pointed.
"Who the hell—wait, where did you come from?"
She pointed toward the forest. "The other side. Saw your smoke last night. Thought maybe a fire spirit was rebuilding the dead place."
"…Sorry to disappoint."
She shrugged. "Better than rats."
Kail eyed her carefully. She wasn't armed, but she was alert—too alert for a normal kid. A survivor, like him.
"You got a name?" he asked.
"Rin."
"You live out here?"
"Not exactly," she said. "I follow the dying. Easier to find food near ruins."
He could respect the honesty.
Side Character Detected: Rin [Scavenger Tier – Unaffiliated] Potential Ally: High Traits: Quick-Witted, Mistrustful, Agile System Suggestion: Offer Food or Shelter to Begin Trust Path
Kail reached into his small bundle and broke a dried meat strip in half. "Want some?"
Rin narrowed her eyes, then snatched it like a fox before backing away. She chewed slowly, suspiciously, but didn't run.
Progress.
Relationship Path: Rin – Initiated Trust: Low (2/100)
Kail turned back to his construction, grinning slightly.
"Guess I'm not rebuilding alone anymore."