Traveling to ancient tribes to build infrastructure

The stone hoe smashed into the yellow-brown earth. It left behind a shallow white scratch. Nothing more.

The shock of the impact traveled up the wooden handle, vibrating painfully through Ariel's wrist. Her palms stung, the skin stretching tight over her bones.

She gritted her teeth. She raised the hoe again. She swung it down. Again. Again.

After a dozen strikes, her lungs were burning. She gasped for air, her chest heaving like a broken bellows.

A wave of dizziness hit her. Her vision went black for a second. She stumbled backward, her back hitting the rough stone wall of the shelter. She slid down, panting.

Elvin dropped the pile of rocks he was sorting. He was at her side in two strides. He grabbed her shoulder, steadying her.

He pried the hoe out of her grip. He looked at her hands. Two large, bloody blisters had formed on her palms, the skin torn and raw.

A flash of anger crossed Elvin's eyes. A dark, violent fury aimed at the cruel world that forced her to suffer like this.

"Sit," he ordered, his voice low and hard. "Rest."

He turned to face the stubborn patch of dirt. He gripped the handle of the hoe. Secretly, he channeled a thread of his silver wolf energy into the wood.

The hoe seemed to gain weight, becoming an extension of his arm. He swung it casually.

The hard, packed earth exploded. Chunks of dirt crumbled and flipped over like soft tofu.

Ariel sat on a rock, watching him. Her mouth fell open in surprise. He was moving so fast.

But every few swings, Elvin would stop. He would lean on the hoe, wiping sweat from his forehead, faking a harsh coughing fit. He made sure to look completely exhausted.

While his back was turned, Ariel stared at her torn palms. The pain was sharp, throbbing.

She closed her eyes, letting the sharp, throbbing pain ground her. She had survived worse in the old world. Her body had developed an incredible tolerance for pain, a stubborn resilience forged in the harsh wasteland. She tore off a clean strip from the hem of her shirt and tightly bound her raw palms, biting her lip to stifle a groan. It wasn't perfect, but it would stop the bleeding.

She stood up and walked over to the freshly turned soil. She scooped up a handful, closing her eyes. She let her senses probe the earth.

It was dead, but deep down, there was a tiny spark of life. It could be saved, but it would take hard, physical labor.

"Spread the shell powder," she instructed Elvin. "Evenly."

Elvin nodded. He grabbed a handful of the white dust and began to scatter it over the dark soil.

"Then go to the edge of the forest," Ariel added. "We need a lot of those broad-leaf vines, and any rotting leaves you can find under the mutated trees. We have to mix them in deeply to create a compost base."

Elvin picked up the hoe and walked toward the dark, mutated woods.

As soon as he was out of sight, Ariel dropped to her knees. She plunged both bound hands deep into the soil.

She didn't hold back this time. She used every ounce of her remaining strength to manually break apart the deepest, hardest clods of earth, mixing the scattered shell powder into the lower layers. Her muscles screamed, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she physically worked the dirt, relying purely on her old-world agricultural knowledge of deep tilling and soil aeration.

When she finished, Ariel collapsed. She lay on the ground, her clothes soaked with cold sweat, her body completely drained.

She looked up at the gray, smoggy sky. A real, bright smile spread across her face.

Heavy footsteps echoed in the distance. Ariel scrambled up. She grabbed a handful of dry grass and began wiping the dirt off her clothes, pretending she had just been cleaning up.

The footsteps grew louder. A massive green "monster" rounded the corner, moving with difficulty.

Ariel squinted. It wasn't a monster. It was Elvin. He was carrying a mountain of mutated vines on his back. The pile was taller than he was.

He dumped the load onto the ground. A cloud of dust billowed up, making Ariel cough.

Elvin leaned against the wall, his chest heaving. Sweat dripped down his pale face, sliding down his sharp jawline.

Ariel rushed over. She pulled up her sleeve and used the rough fabric to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

Elvin leaned into her touch. He lowered his head slightly, letting her reach him easier. In the depths of his eyes, a glint of smug satisfaction flashed. He had played the weakling perfectly.

Ariel stared at the massive pile of high-quality vines. "How did you carry all this?" she asked, amazed.

Elvin coughed lightly. "Found a landslide," he lied smoothly. "Just rolled them down the hill."

Ariel didn't question it. She pulled him down to sit beside her. She grabbed a sharp stone flake and demonstrated the next step.

She scored the outer bark of the vine with a long, deep cut. Then, she gripped the end and yanked it hard. The rough, spiky outer layer peeled away, revealing the smooth, flexible inner core.

She soaked the cores in a bucket of water to make them pliable.

She picked up a few wet strands. Her fingers wove them together, over and under, in a tight, complex pattern. Elvin watched her hands intently, memorizing every move.

After a few hours of painstaking work, her fingers aching and stiff from the repetitive motion, the first section of a dense, wind-proof woven door curtain finally took shape.

Ariel shook out her sore wrists. She pushed the remaining vines toward Elvin. "Your turn. Try it."

Elvin picked up the strands. His movements were a bit stiff at first, but his logic was flawless. He didn't miss a single weave.

Ariel was shocked by his terrifying learning speed. She leaned in closer to watch his technique.

They were inches apart. Ariel could smell him. Beneath the heavy scent of dust and the sharp tang of sweat from his labor, there was a faint, clean smell, like cold stone or winter air, something entirely different from the foul stench of the other camp members.

Elvin's fingers paused. He turned his head. His deep, intense gray-blue eyes locked directly onto hers.

Ariel's face flushed hot. She coughed awkwardly, breaking eye contact. She quickly started talking about the other things they could make. Baskets. Storage bins. Even shoes.

Elvin listened to her vision of the future-a future with order, warmth, and comfort. The hard line of his shoulders softened.

Ariel stood up. She walked to the center of the square they had marked out. Her expression turned serious.

She turned to face him. "We are building this," she said, her voice low but filled with a fierce, unshakable conviction. "Not just a shelter. A stronghold. A place where we belong."

Elvin put down the vines. He stood up. He walked over to her, his tall frame casting a long shadow over her.

He placed a hand over his heart. It was the highest salute of the silver wolf warriors. He bowed his head slightly.

"I will help you build it," he vowed, his voice deep and resonant. "Whatever you want to build, I will make it happen."

The setting sun cast long, golden rays across the camp. Their shadows stretched out on the freshly turned soil, leaning close together, inseparable.