The starship's hull cut through a light autumn drizzle as it descended toward Cedar Falls. Unlike the lush orchards of Pine Creek or the green fields of Hazelton, this village was framed by tall cedar trees, their branches heavy with needles, and the air carried a crisp, cool bite—winter was coming fast. Below, a sawmill sat beside a rushing stream, its large wooden wheel motionless, its windows dark.
Lin Che landed in a clearing near the mill, and the first thing they noticed was the silence. No clatter of wood being cut, no creak of the wheel—just the sound of the stream and the wind rustling through the cedars. A man with a thick woolen coat and a hat pulled low over his eyes approached, his boots squelching in the mud.
"You're here about the sawmill," he said, his voice gruff but tired. "I'm Elias—the mill keeper. Been tending this place since my pa died. The wheel seized up a month ago. Tried everything—oil, prying, even hitting it with a hammer. Nothing works. Winter's in three weeks—we need to cut firewood for the village, build repairs for the cottages. Without the mill… we'll freeze."
Xiao Ya walked toward the stream, her boots sinking slightly in the mud. She knelt, pressing her hand to the water, and her fingers glowed green. "The wheel's stuck because of a log jam," she said, looking up. "A big one—under the mill, where the water flows into the wheel. The stream plants say it's been there since the last flood—pushed logs and rocks into the channel, blocking the current. No water, no wheel."
Mo Ying slung her toolbox over her shoulder, already heading for the mill's basement door. "First, we'll clear the jam. Need ropes, a lever—Elias, you got any spare gear?"
Elias nodded, leading them to a shed beside the mill. Inside, shelves held coils of thick rope, iron levers, and axes. "Pa always said to keep extra supplies," he mumbled, grabbing a rope. "Guess he knew I'd need 'em someday."
Su Qing flipped open her Arcane Manual, scanning a page on water flow. "Once the jam's clear, I can carve runes into the wheel's spokes—they'll keep the wood from warping in the cold, make the wheel spin smoother. That way, it won't seize up again this winter."
Lin Che grabbed a lever, testing its weight. "Let's get to work. The sooner we clear the jam, the sooner the mill runs."
They headed to the mill's basement—a damp, stone room with a narrow channel where water flowed into the wheel. Through the dim light, they could see the jam: a tangled mass of logs, rocks, and branches, wedged tight against the wheel's gears.
Xiao Ya stepped to the channel's edge, her hands glowing brighter. She closed her eyes, whispering to the stream plants, and soon, thin green tendrils emerged from the water, wrapping around small rocks and pulling them free. "The plants can move the small stuff," she said. "We'll need to pull the big logs out with the rope."
Mo Ying and Elias tied the rope around the largest log, while Lin Che and Su Qing braced the lever against it. "On three!" Lin Che said. "One… two… three!"
They pulled with all their strength, the rope straining. The log shifted, then lurched forward, breaking free of the jam. Water rushed into the channel, splashing against the walls, and the other logs began to松动 (loosen), carried away by the current.
By sunset, the jam was clear. Water flowed freely into the wheel, and when Elias turned the mill's crank, the wheel creaked to life—slow at first, then faster, spinning smoothly as the current caught it. The sound of the mill's saw cutting through a piece of cedar filled the air, and Elias let out a laugh—a loud, relieved sound he hadn't made in weeks.
"That's it," he said, grinning. "She's back."
That night, the villagers of Cedar Falls gathered at the mill. Mrs. Olsen, the village baker, brought a loaf of warm bread and a pot of vegetable soup; Mr. Torres, the blacksmith, brought a flask of hot cider. They sat around the mill's firepit, talking and laughing as the saw continued to hum in the background—cutting firewood, piece by piece.
Elias told them about his father, how they'd worked the mill together every winter, how his father had taught him to listen to the wheel—"If it makes a funny noise, you fix it right away, not wait," he said, smiling at the memory. "Pa'd be proud of this mill now."
Xiao Ya sat beside Elias, holding a cup of cider. "The stream plants say the water's happy now," she said. "It likes making the wheel spin. And the cedar trees—they're happy to help keep the village warm."
Elias nodded, looking at the saw cutting through a cedar log. "Yeah. They are."
The next morning, they prepared to leave. Elias walked them to the starship, carrying a small wooden box. He handed it to Lin Che, his hands calloused from years of mill work. "It's a cedar bowl," he said. "Carved it last night, after the mill started. Cedar keeps things warm—good for soup, or cider. A thank-you."
Lin Che opened the box—inside, the bowl was smooth, its surface polished to a soft shine. "It's beautiful. Thank you."
Elias smiled. "If you ever come back in winter—we'll have a fire going, and soup on the stove. Always."
They climbed aboard the starship, waving goodbye. The villagers stood in the clearing, holding pieces of firewood, until the starship rose into the sky and disappeared behind the cedar trees.
Inside the cabin, Xiao Ya held the cedar bowl, running her finger along its edge. "Cedar Falls is going to be warm this winter," she said, smiling. "The mill will cut all the firewood they need. The cottages will be fixed."
Su Qing flipped open Elder Gao's map, pointing to a village in the south. "Willow Bend," she said. "Elder Gao says their schoolhouse roof is leaking. Winter's coming—they need to fix it before the snow."
Mo Ying nodded, adjusting the starship's controls. "Roofs? I fixed a bellows, a bridge, a sawmill—roofs are easy. Just need shingles, nails, and maybe a little help from Xiao Ya's plants to hold the wood in place."
Lin Che looked out the window, at the cedar trees below. The cedar bowl sat on the dashboard, next to the jar of apple butter, the corn seeds, and the iron key. Each item was a memory—a village helped, a hope restored. The Star Marrow on his wrist glowed softly, steady and warm, like the fire in Cedar Falls' mill.
This was their journey: not grand battles, but small, vital things. Cutting firewood for a winter, fixing a roof for a schoolhouse, making sure a village didn't freeze. It wasn't the kind of heroism that made legends—but it was the kind that made a difference.
"Willow Bend," he said. "Let's go keep them warm."
The starship turned south, toward the rising sun. Ahead, a new village waited. A new problem. A new chance to help.
And as always—they were ready.