Morning light filtered through the tower’s broken walls, pale and steady. Kael sat on the edge of the crude wooden bench he had set near the work area, testing the small stiffness in his palm. The bandage from yesterday was still there, but the skin beneath it was tender, reminding him that one wrong move and the cut would open again.

  Elin was already moving, gathering scraps of the moose hide they had pulled yesterday. She held a piece up to the sunlight, examining its texture. “It’s thick… but workable,” she said softly. Her eyes flicked toward Kael. “Your hand are you sure you can help with this?”

  Kael flexed his fingers carefully. “I’ll manage,” he said, though he knew the edge of the cut throbbed faintly. “Just need to be careful.”

  They worked together in silence at first, stretching the hide over a section of wood Kael had prepared yesterday. Every tug, every adjustment reminded Kael of the forest beyond the clearing silent, watching, patient. He remembered Ash’s careful patrols, the way the pup marked the boundary without crossing it. That same patience had to guide him now.

  Elin handed him another piece. “We’ll need to stitch some parts,” she said, biting her lip as if weighing her words. “Old twine might do for now… but we’ll need something stronger soon.”

  Kael nodded, flexing his hand again. The throb was sharper this time. He hesitated, pressing the bandage against the cut to stop a small trickle of blood. “It’s fine,” he muttered, but Elin’s sharp look made him pause.

  “You’re going to reopen it,” she said gently, but firmly. “Let me do this part.”

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  For the next hour, they worked carefully together. Elin guided Kael’s fingers where the stitches needed to go, showing him how to pull the cord without tearing the hide or his skin. There were small slips his hand wobbled once, and the thread snagged, making the wound flare—but each time, Elin steadied him, hands brushing his own in quick, professional gestures.

  When they finally set the first section over a wooden frame, Kael stepped back. Sweat glistened on his brow, and his palm still throbbed faintly, but the hide held firm.

  Elin smiled, quiet, exhausted. “It’s… it’s enough for now.”

  Kael nodded, looking at the half-finished frame. “We’ll finish tomorrow. And then we can start on the next section.”

  For a long moment, they simply sat there, side by side. The forest outside seemed to exhale, the wind soft against the tower walls, rustling the rope lines of their fence. Ash padded around the clearing, ears flicking toward the distant treeline, but made no sound. The creatures of the forest were watching, just as they always had, but the humans had left their mark today.

  Kael flexed his hand again, carefully. The pain was dull now, manageable. He looked at Elin. “You work fast,” he said, almost teasing.

  She looked up, eyes meeting his, a faint blush rising. “And you…” she began, hesitating, “…you’re stubborn.”

  Kael allowed a small smile, but turned back toward the half-stretched hide. “Tomorrow,” he said, voice quiet, “we finish. And then we’ll see what this really becomes.”

  Elin nodded, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “And the forest will know we’re serious.”

  Ash barked softly, almost like agreement, and padded to Kael’s side. For now, the work was slow. Painful. Careful. But the line had been drawn not just in the dirt, not just in the wood and hide, but in their effort and resolve.

  The day ended with the half-completed frame standing like a quiet statement in the clearing. They had begun something tangible, something permanent. And for the first time in a long while, Kael felt that, maybe, they were beginning to belong here.