The sun rose over the forest ridge, casting golden light over the newly built huts. They weren't perfect, but they were shelter—proof that they had survived. Proof that they were more than prey.
Zion stood silently at the edge of their new settlement, arms crossed, eyes scanning the clearing with thoughtful intensity. The homes were arranged in a semi-circle near a small freshwater stream, smoke drifting lazily from early morning fires. Teenagers moved between huts, sharing food, checking traps, boiling water. They were strong for their age, hardened by loss—but still young, still untrained.
Behind Zion's calm expression, his mind was a storm.
"They don't know irrigation. They don't know the wheel. They've never heard of fermentation, preservation, metallurgy, or structure beyond tribe and survival."
"I know so much. But knowledge without people to teach it to… is just another burden."
He exhaled slowly, gaze turning to the dense forest beyond. It was rich—teeming with life, plants, game, and hidden dangers. To a 21st-century mind, it was opportunity. To his people, it was overwhelming.
Kael walked up, dropping a large bundle of wild roots.
"You've been staring out there for an hour. Planning something?"
Zion gave a faint smile. "Always. I just wish I had more hands to build with. Too many ideas. Not enough people. And they're not ready… not yet."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "You thinking about going out to recruit?"
"Eventually," Zion said, "but not until we can protect ourselves. And not until we have something worth bringing others into."
Nearby, Thalia barked orders at two boys who tried stacking logs incorrectly. Her sharp voice carried, but Zion didn't mind. She was harsh, but her presence kept people focused. They needed her strength just as much as his mind.
As the day passed, the group finished their first round of smoke-houses to preserve meat, built drying racks for fish, and cleared paths to nearby water sources. Zion drew diagrams on bark using burned sticks—outlines of pulleys, grinding stones, compost pits, crop rotation cycles. Most of them would take months to implement. Some, maybe years.
"They need to eat today. Survive this season. Shelter this winter. But if we don't start preparing for what's next, we'll die just like our parents did—with strength, but no structure."
That night, around the fire, Zion finally spoke to the group.
"There's more food here than we can eat. More wood than we can burn. But that means little if we waste it."
He looked around the circle. "I'll start teaching in the mornings. Building things. Systems. Ideas you've never heard of—but that will save your lives."
He paused, letting the firelight catch the seriousness in his eyes.
"This place isn't just shelter. It's the beginning of something new. A tribe unlike any other. But I can't do it alone."
Kael nodded, his eyes locked with Zion's. Thalia said nothing, but her hand tightened on her spear. The others murmured uncertainly—but none stood against him.
That was enough.