The fire crackled high, throwing long shadows across the clearing.
Eight or nine wild wolves padded out of the tree line and formed a loose half-circle twenty meters away, just beyond the reach of the firelight. Their ribs showed beneath matted fur; hunger had made them bold, but not yet reckless.
Damian sat cross-legged, turning the fer-de-lance carcass on a green stick. The smell of roasting meat drifted on the night air. The wolves' ears pricked forward. Low growls rumbled in their throats, yet none crossed the invisible line drawn by the flames.
An hour passed. The pack circled, tested, and circled again. Finally, but the fire held. At last the alpha threw back his head and gave a single disgusted howl. One by one the yellow-green eyes winked out, retreating into the forest.
Damian released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
Gurgle…
His stomach spoke louder than any wolf.
He carved the cooked snake meat from the bones with his flint knife. The flesh was tough and faintly gamey, but hot and filling. He ate until only scraps remained, then scraped the pottery pot clean with a flat stone and drank the greasy broth in deep swallows.
[Clear Snake Broth]: Non-toxic. Strength slightly restored.
Warmth spread through his limbs. The exhaustion of the day finally crashed over him like a wave, but he refused to sleep yet.
He had bigger prey to hunt tonight: progress.
While the fire burned low, Damian twisted bundle after bundle of grass rope. When he had four thick coils, he began knapping new flint axe heads under the flickering orange light.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
Every strike of stone on stone rang out across the silent wasteland, scattering curious night creatures back into the grass.
By the time the eastern sky began to pale, three fresh flint axes lay at his feet.
[Simple Flint Axe] × 3
[Production Experience +1] × many
He ate the last scraps of cold snake, shouldered the heaviest axe, and walked toward the tall pines that guarded Moon Door.
Spring had not truly arrived; frost still glittered on the fallen needles. Damian rubbed warmth into his arms, then raised the axe high.
The first blow rang like a bell.
Bang!
Chips flew. The scent of fresh pine sap filled the cold dawn air.
[Collection Experience +1]
Again and again the axe rose and fell, each swing smoother, each cut deeper than the last.
By the time the sun cleared the mountains, eight tall pines lay felled in perfect formation, ready to become walls, roof, and the first true home Damian Klaus would ever own.
He wiped sweat from his brow and allowed himself a thin, fierce smile.
One day down.
An empire to go.