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  Lara, observing the strangers among the group, felt an uneasy curiosity stirring within her.

  Her gaze lingered on them, analyzing their posture, their expressions, their potential threat or usefulness.

  Each movement they made seemed calcuted, yet foreign to her, and she could not help but feel unsettled.

  But when Athan invited them to stay, something unfamiliar churned inside her—jealousy.

  A sensation she had never confronted before.

  The feeling coiled in her stomach like a serpent, wrapping around her thoughts, making her chest tighten.

  The girl watching Athan cautiously was nearly his age, perhaps only a few years older at most.

  Her wary eyes assessed him, her expression unreadable, but Lara sensed the unspoken challenge beneath her poised demeanor.

  The girl carried herself with quiet confidence, her stance rexed yet aware, as if she had experience navigating difficult situations.

  Then, a sharp realization cut through Lara—her position beside Athan was no longer secure.

  A deeper fear crept in—once the girl saw everything Athan was capable of, she might try to steal his affection, drawing him away from her.

  A flicker of anxiety sparked inside her, but she doused it with determination.

  She stepped forward, positioning herself close to Athan, her presence a silent decration of ownership.

  Her heart pounded against her ribs, her fingers curling slightly as if ready to hold onto what was hers.

  She would not allow this newcomer to steal the bond she had built with Athan.

  No matter what, she would not be repced.

  Lara moved even closer to Athan, her presence almost pressing against him, as if to make her cim undeniable.

  With a composed yet firm voice, she offered to show the newcomer around the camp.

  "I... show you. Camp. You come."

  The girl looked at Lara, then at Athan, as if gauging the situation, before nodding hesitantly.

  "Yes. See camp. Good."

  Athan cleared his throat, shifting slightly as he acknowledged Lara’s sudden closeness.

  "This is Lara," he said, gesturing toward her, though he wasn't entirely sure why she had decided to attach herself to him so closely.

  Before he could introduce himself, the young girl spoke up.

  "Kali," she said simply, pcing a hand on her chest.

  "Mother, Sha. Brother, Mir."

  Athan offered a small nod before speaking.

  "I am Athan," he said, his voice calm yet firm.

  He gestured slightly toward Lara.

  "We stay here. Safe pce."

  Lara nodded slowly, her gaze flicking between them.

  She remained silent for a moment before turning back to Kali.

  "I... show camp. You come."

  She gestured for her to follow, walking with deliberate steps, making sure to stay between her and Athan.

  Occasionally, she gnced back, ensuring the girl didn’t try to step ahead.

  Athan, sensing Lara’s unease, let out a small sigh but didn’t intervene, curious to see how she handled the situation.

  The newcomer, though her words were simple, seemed to understand the tension and watched Lara carefully.

  Kali: "You... Athan friend?"

  Lara: "Yes. Close. Long time."

  A brief silence hung between them before Kali simply nodded, her expression unreadable.

  Lara, however, felt victorious, reaffirming her pce beside Athan.------------

  Athan watched as the two girls walked away, still trying to make sense of what had just happened. His brow furrowed slightly, confusion tightening his expression. Lara's sudden shift in behavior was unlike anything he had seen before, and he couldn't quite grasp why she had glued herself to his side so determinedly. He let out a small sigh and shrugged, gncing toward his father.

  His father's eyes gleamed with barely contained ughter, his lips twitching as if he was holding back a comment. Athan knew that if he asked, the man would tease him endlessly. His mother, however, was different. She regarded him with a warm, knowing expression, her gaze filled with understanding that Athan cked. She said nothing, but the small, gentle smile on her lips made him feel as if she knew more than she let on.

  Nearby, Sha, the newcomer, stood with her arms lightly crossed, quietly observing the situation. Unlike Athan, she seemed to have no difficulty understanding the unspoken exchange between the two girls. A faint, amused smirk pyed on her lips as she studied Lara's behavior. It was clear to her that the boy was oblivious to the delicate power py happening right before him.

  Athan exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck.

  "Did I miss something?" he muttered under his breath.

  His father chuckled, finally letting out a small ugh, while his mother simply shook her head, her expression one of patience and quiet amusement.

  Sha, still watching, gave him a knowing gnce but said nothing, allowing him to figure things out on his own.

  Athan sighed and refocused.

  "Alright then. Ok, could you make two more bowls for the evening meal? Also, could we prepare two new bedding spots? I would do it, but my hands..."

  The boy gestured to his wrapped hands, looking for assistance.

  Ok nodded and walked toward the woodpile, selecting some pieces for the task.

  Meanwhile, Vilda moved away, gathering long leaves to be used as bedding.

  As this happened, Rael turned to Sha.

  "Want me to show you around?" she asked.

  The woman nodded, pushing herself back onto her feet.

  With some food now in her stomach and a moment of rest, she looked more stable, less likely to colpse from malnutrition.

  In the meantime, the boy, once again with nothing to do, wandered around the camp.

  He observed the ongoing activities, his gaze drifting as he pondered what he could do while waiting for his hands to heal.

  After a while, he noticed Lara and Kali engaged in conversation while preparing the evening meal. He observed the way Lara gestured animatedly, her eyes flickering between the ingredients and the girl beside her. Kali, on the other hand, listened attentively, nodding occasionally as she worked. The boy considered joining them, but before he could take a step, Lara shot him a sharp, pointed look—one that clearly told him to mind his own business. Surprised by her sudden territorial attitude, he hesitated, then sighed, shoulders slumping as he backed away. Disheartened, he retreated to his usual spot near the waterfall.

  The sound of rushing water filled his ears as he let his thoughts wander. He absentmindedly kicking a small pebble into the stream, watching as it vanished beneath the surface. The evening air was crisp, carrying the distant chatter of the camp and the crackling of the cooking fire. His gaze drifted towards the fields, where the recently pnted crops y undisturbed under the waning sunlight.

  Then, something unusual caught his attention in Field 1. His eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, sensing something different. Intrigued, he stood and approached, his heartbeat quickening with every step. As he got closer, his breath hitched—one of the seeds he had pnted was beginning to break through the soil. A tiny green sprout, fragile yet full of life, emerged, pushing against the dirt as if reaching for the sky.

  A rush of excitement surged through him, his face lighting up with pure joy. This was proof that his efforts weren't in vain, that the nd could provide for them. But what made him truly proud was that this was not the first sprout—this was the second field where the seeds had germinated, breaking through the soil and reaching for the sky. The realization sent a thrill through him. If one field could grow, it might have been a stroke of luck, but two? That was a sign that they were truly succeeding.

  He had an overwhelming urge to record the moment in his notebook, to document this small but significant achievement. However, knowing he couldn't write just yet, he shifted his focus entirely to observation. His eyes meticulously scanned the tiny sprout, taking in the delicate curve of its stem, the faint green hue that contrasted against the rich brown soil, and the way it swayed ever so slightly in the gentle breeze. He analyzed everything—the moisture level of the earth, the positioning of the pnt in retion to the sunlight, even the subtle variations in the soil texture.Frustrated but resigned, he exhaled slowly, letting the scene etch itself into his mind. Even without writing it down, he knew he would not forget this moment—a second promise from the nd that they were on the right path.

  After some time, Lara decred the meal ready, and the boy moved to his bedding, waiting patiently like the previous night. A short while ter, Lara approached him, carrying two wooden bowl in her hands. Without hesitation, she settled beside him and began feeding him with a spoon, just as she had done before. His hands were still wrapped in the leaf bandages, leaving him unable to do much on his own. However, this time, something felt different.

  Lara did not hesitate or shy away from the task. Instead, there was an unspoken confidence in her actions, as if she was determined to prove something—not just to him, but to herself and those around them. She scooped up the food with deliberate care, her movements precise, almost graceful. Each time she brought the spoon to his lips, her eyes met his for a brief moment, filled with an emotion he couldn't quite pce.

  The sensation was strange yet not unpleasant. The warmth of the meal mixed with the quiet intimacy of the moment, creating an odd but comforting feeling. He found himself more focused on her presence than the food itself.

  What he did not notice, however, was Kali observing them from a short distance. There was no envy in her gaze, only curiosity—an inquisitiveness that hinted at contemption rather than competition. Around them, the other adults of the cn also watched, entertained by the quiet but unmistakable gesture of care. The atmosphere was calm yet filled with unspoken understanding, as if something important was unfolding before them, even if the boy himself had yet to realize it.

  Once the meal was over, the boy looked at Lara, offering a quiet but sincere "Thank you" for her care. She responded with a gentle nod, a soft smile lingering on her lips before rising to her feet.After the meal, the two teaching groups resumed their respective activities—one focused on carving, the other on writing. The boy noticed that nearly all the women of the cn had now joined the writing lessons, eager not to be left behind. Their determination was clear in the way they carefully traced each symbol, committing them to memory.

  The only ones not participating were the two newcomers and the baby.

  Curious, the boy approached them, waiting for a moment before Kali, ever inquisitive, tilted her head and asked:

  "What happen?"

  "The men are learning to carve," the boy expined, pointing to the group working with their tools.

  "They make things. Gifts, tools, for their women."

  Kali furrowed her brow.

  "Carve?"

  The boy nodded and mimicked a cutting motion with his fingers.

  "With wood. They shape it. Change it."

  Kali looked at the men, watching as they carefully scraped and shaped pieces of wood. She nodded slowly, though the concept still seemed foreign to her.

  "And women?" she asked, pointing to the other group.

  "They are learning to write," the boy said, his voice patient.

  "Writing is... words. Not speaking, but making words on the ground first."

  Kali blinked.

  "Words... on ground?"

  He picked up a stick and traced a simple line in the dirt.

  "This is a symbol. Like words."

  Kali squinted at it, tilting her head.

  "Symbol?"

  "Yes. If I make many symbol, they can mean things," he expined, drawing another simple shape.

  "Like talking, but no voice."

  Kali frowned, kneeling closer.

  "People see... know words?"

  The boy nodded.

  "Yes. If you learn symbol, you know what people say—even when they are not here."

  Kali stared at the lines in the dirt, her fingers hovering over them, as if she could absorb their meaning by touch.

  "Magic?"

  He chuckled softly.

  "Not magic. Just learning. But it helps... like magic."

  Kali frowned, trying to understand.

  "No talk... but words?"

  "Yes," the boy confirmed.

  "If I write something, someone can see it ter and know what I mean."

  Kali's expression turned thoughtful as she absorbed this new information, gncing at the group of women diligently scratching characters into wooden boards.

  Her mother, Sha, remained quiet, but her gaze was sharp, full of curiosity.

  The concept was foreign to them, but the potential it held was something they could not yet fully grasp.

  "Like this," the boy said, tracing symbols on the ground before calling out to Lara.

  She set down the branch she had been using and approached, curious.

  "Lara, can you tell us what I've written here?" the boy asked.

  Lara looked down at the symbols near their feet, her brows furrowing in concentration.

  Slowly, she sounded out the sylbles, pronouncing each one with care.

  "Kkaa... liii... Kali!"

  The boy nodded, pleased.

  Encouraged, he wrote another word in the dirt.

  "And this one?"

  Lara's eyes lit up as she recognized the familiar symbols.

  "Lara! That's me!" she excimed, excitement filling her voice.

  The boy smiled.

  "Yes, you're getting really good at this."

  He nodded in approval.

  "You can keep practicing. Thank you for your help."

  Grinning, Lara returned to her practice, eager to improve further.

  The boy then turned to Kali and Sha, his expression serious yet hopeful.

  "As you can see, if you learn the symbols, we can communicate without speaking," he expined.

  "And if I write something and I am no longer here... the words I've written will remain. My future children, and their children after them, will still be able to read these words and learn what I wanted to pass on."After those words, the two of them looked at the boy, their expressions shadowed with something heavier than simple uncertainty. Even behind him, an unusual silence had settled over the entire cn. It was as if his words had stirred painful memories, reopening wounds not yet healed.

  The realization struck him too te—Kali, Sha, and the boy Mir had recently lost those closest to them. Speaking of passing words to future generations must have reminded them of all the voices they would never hear again. The weight of their grief hung thick in the air, pressing down on everyone who were still alongside them.

  Athan swallowed, suddenly uncomfortable. He hadn't meant to cause such distress. His gaze flickered toward Kali and Sha, an apology forming on his lips, but no words seemed adequate. Feeling out of pce, he muttered a quiet, "Sorry," before stepping away, giving them space to process their emotions. As he returned to his spot, he couldn't shake the heavy feeling that, despite his good intentions, he had unknowingly stirred something that would take far longer to mend.

  As the boy sat in his pce, he observed the ripple effect of the conversation. The women exchanged gnces, their expressions shifting from contemption to determination. One by one, they became more engaged, focusing intently on their writing practice, eager to grasp the skill as quickly as possible. Some traced the symbols with their fingers in the dirt, murmuring their sounds under their breath, while others repeatedly copied what they had just learned, committing it to memory.

  Even the men, who had been absorbed in their carving, began to cast thoughtful gnces at their partners. Some paused, their tools momentarily forgotten as they considered the significance of writing. A few exchanged murmured words, already contempting the idea of asking the boy for permission to learn once their combs were finished. The realization that words could be passed down, that thoughts could live on beyond one's voice, seemed to settle over them like a quiet revetion.

  After a while, Kali hesitated before stepping toward Lara. Her posture was tense, but her gaze held quiet resolve. "Teach me?" she asked, her voice uncertain but determined.

  Lara blinked in surprise before gncing at Sha. The older woman took a moment, her eyes drifting toward her son, Mir, before she exhaled softly. There was a flicker of something deep in her gaze—hesitation, perhaps even sorrow—before she straightened her shoulders and took a step forward. "Me too," she said simply, her voice steady, though the slight tremor in her hands betrayed the weight of her decision.

  Athan watched this moment unfold, sensing the weight of their decision. This wasn't just curiosity—it was a choice to move forward, to embrace something new despite the pain they still carried. He recognized what was happening and chose not to interfere. He knew that pushing or hovering would only make things more difficult. So instead, he remained still, allowing them to take this step on their own terms, knowing that this was the first of many.

  ---------------

  The next morning, as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the trees, the boy attempted to rise, eager to start the day. However, his mother gently pressed him back down, insisting he take things slowly.

  Carefully, she removed the Leaf bandages from his hands, examining them with a critical eye. The pain had significantly lessened, and he could now move his fingers with only minor discomfort, but she remained cautious.

  "Be careful," she warned, her voice firm but caring. "You will use them lightly today. Tonight, I will apply more balm."

  The boy nodded, unable to hide his excitement. His hands were healing, and soon he would regain full use of them. Not wanting to waste a moment, he reached for his notebook, carefully flipping it open. His fingers trembled slightly as he began to write, documenting everything he had observed the previous day—notes on the field's soil condition, the moisture levels, and the way the newly sprouted pnt had emerged. He wanted to remember every detail, ensuring they could replicate their success in future pntings.

  For a moment, he simply sat there, running his fingers over the pages, feeling a deep sense of accomplishment. This knowledge was not just for him, but for everyone. With a contented sigh, he continued writing, determined to capture as much as possible before the day truly began.

  After a while, the boy carefully closed his ink bottle, leaving his notebook open to dry. Satisfied, he set it aside and got up to begin his morning routine. As he arrived at the field, he was met with a pleasant surprise—Lara was already there. She had activated the watering system and was actively turning the bricks, ensuring the soil remained well aerated. The sight warmed his heart, a sense of pride swelling within him.

  Then, he noticed something even more unexpected—Kali was mimicking Lara's actions, carefully following her lead while listening to the young women. Amused, the boy realized that Lara was teaching the newcomer how to perform the various tasks he had introduced to her. It pleased him to see how naturally things were falling into pce, their teamwork growing stronger.

  As he passed through the field, intending to wash his hands from the remnants of the balm and freshen up, his eyes caught something unusual. His breath hitched—dozens of seeds from Field 1 had sprouted overnight. But that wasn't all. Some of the seeds in Field 3 had also begun to break through the soil.

  Mouth agape, the boy stood frozen in shock before a wide grin spread across his face. Unable to contain his excitement, he leaped into the air, pumping his fists in joy. Without hesitation, he rushed to the nearby basin, washing up quickly before shutting down the watering system to prevent over-saturation. Then, fueled by enthusiasm, he sprinted back to his bedding, grabbing his notebook, quill, and pen before dashing to the field once more.

  He meticulously documented everything he saw, making detailed notes on the differences between the pnts. The sprouts from Field 1 looked robust and thick compared to those in Field 2, which were more vine-like in structure. Meanwhile, the pnts in Field 3 were far more delicate and slender than those in the other fields, almost fragile in comparison.

  Excitement buzzed in his veins—this was progress, real progress. With every new sprout, their understanding of cultivation deepened, and with it, so did their future prospects.

  While the boy was documenting what he saw in the field, the two girls walked past him, gncing in his direction. He heard Kali call out to Lara, her voice tinged with curiosity. "He always like that?"

  Lara chuckled softly before responding, "Only when good happen."

  Kali tilted her head slightly as if considering her words, then simply nodded before the two continued walking away, their conversation fading into the sounds of the camp.

  The boy, slightly embarrassed, felt his face warm as a slight flush crept up his neck. He hadn't realized how transparent his emotions had been until now, how openly his excitement had shown. His hands instinctively fidgeted as he lowered his gaze, pretending to focus on his notebook to mask his reaction. Determined not to be so easily read, he made a mental note to control his expressions better in the future. Yet, even as he tried to compose himself, a small, lingering smile pyed at the corner of his lips—he couldn't deny how fulfilling it was to witness real progress.

  Once he had finished his notes, though he struggled more than usual due to his healing hands, he carefully pced his notebook aside to let the ink dry. Taking a deep breath, he picked up his belongings and returned them to his bedding before deciding to check on the first batch of bricks.Arriving at the drying area, he knelt down, inspecting them closely. The exterior had hardened, forming a sturdy crust, but as he pressed lightly, he could tell the interior was still damp. He estimated they would need at least three more days before they were fully dried and ready for use.

  Gncing down at his hands, he noted that his own healing process aligned with the bricks' timeline. By the time his fingers were strong enough to work properly, the bricks would be ready as well. Looking up at the sky, he observed the clear expanse above—there had been no rain since they had arrived near the mountain, and the dry weather had aided the curing process. Still, he hoped it wouldn't rain just yet; not until the bricks were safely sheltered under the roof of the house. The crops, fortunately, didn't rely on rainfall, as they received all the water they needed from the irrigation system he had set up. However, an unexpected downpour could still spell disaster for the drying bricks, forcing them to start over from scratch.

  Getting back up from his kneeling position, he made his way to the carving site, observing as the men and women diligently worked on shaping square beams and pnks, just as he had instructed.

  Their focus and precision made him pause for a moment in admiration before his thoughts drifted to another idea.

  Grabbing a few sturdy branches, he retrieved his stone knife, carefully stripping the bark as he worked with slow, deliberate motions. His hands were still healing, forcing him to take his time.

  Using the knife, he began carving the branches into smaller square-shaped forms, mimicking the rger beams but on a reduced scale. His movements were meticulous, ensuring each piece was properly aligned and smooth.

  Once he had enough, he focused on refining their structure, carefully shaping the extremities so they could interlock. He then took another branch and carved an interior groove, creating a joint where the two pieces could seamlessly fit together. Testing the connection, he pressed the two blocks together, locking them into pce with satisfying precision.

  This was the technique he intended to use for constructing the first house—a system that would allow sturdy assembly without the need for advanced tools. Immersed in his work, he didn't notice the curious gnces from the cn members around him. Even if he had, he wouldn't have cared. His mind was too occupied with testing the concept, refining it, ensuring it would work on a rger scale.

  As the sun began to dip below the horizon, he finally stood up, stretching his stiff limbs. Gathering all the pieces he had crafted, he made his way toward the house foundation. Kneeling beside it, he pced a hand on the cement, feeling its hardened surface. It had set well, but he was cautious—he wanted to ensure the structure wouldn't crumble under weight.

  He thought about it carefully. "At least a week," he murmured to himself. That would give the foundation enough time to fully solidify before any framework was pced on top. If they rushed it, the entire structure could colpse, undoing all their progress.

  Hesitating the boy then took some big leaf use for bedding before putting them on the cement structure, afraid that the dew could have an influence on it, he made the same for the toilet. After a while, satisfied with his arrangement, he picked up his crafted pieces and started making his way back, his mind already pnning the next steps.

  The boy dropped the pieces at his bedding before looking around for his bowl.

  He couldn't find it.

  Just as he was about to ask, Lara's voice called out.

  "Sit."

  Puzzled, he obeyed.

  Moments ter, the young woman approached with their two bowls in hand, settling beside him once more.

  As she scooped a spoonful of food and brought it toward him, he pulled back slightly.

  "I can eat by myself," he protested, his voice carrying a note of mild frustration.

  Lara shook her head, unwavering.

  "No. Hands bad. I feed."

  He sighed, gncing down at his bandaged fingers before meeting her determined gaze.

  "Lara, I—"

  "Eat."

  She cut him off, the spoon lingering stubbornly in front of him.

  He hesitated a moment longer but ultimately relented, parting his lips as she gently pced the spoon into his mouth.

  The food was warm and comforting, and as she continued feeding him, he found himself focusing less on the awkwardness of the situation and more on the quiet, steady rhythm of it.Lara, however, wore a triumphant smirk, clearly pleased with herself. She didn't speak much, but there was something in her expression—a mixture of satisfaction and quiet amusement—that made it clear she enjoyed having the upper hand.

  After the meal, he exhaled softly. "Thank you. The food was good, as always."

  Lara gave a small nod, a pleased smile lingering on her lips before she stood, gathering the bowls. "Good. I clean."

  As she walked away, he watched her go, shaking his head slightly. Despite his initial resistance, there was something oddly comforting about being cared for like this. Even if he would never admit it.

  Meanwhile, as the rest of the group gathered for the evening activities—carving and writing lessons—the boy focused on the small framed house he had crafted earlier. He carefully pced each miniature beam and pnk, ensuring they fit snugly together without breaking. The process required patience and a steady hand, especially with his still-healing fingers. He worked slowly, double-checking each connection, his mind fully absorbed in the task.

  The roof, angled at approximately 45 degrees, was designed to allow rainwater to flow down efficiently, preventing it from pooling on top. He turned the model in his hands, studying it from every angle, assessing its stability. The notches and joints needed to be precise before they could drill holes and secure them with wedges to make the structure permanent, simir to the technique he had used when setting the wedge in his hammer and securing the locking for the door of the wall. If this method worked on a small scale, it would be invaluable once they moved on to constructing the full-sized structure.

  Tracing his fingers over the tiny grooves, he mentally pictured how they would reinforce the connections on a rger scale, ensuring stability. The success of this system depended on precision—every notch, every interlocking joint needed to be carefully measured and cut. If done correctly, this method could create a solid, interlocking framework that wouldn't easily colpse under pressure, providing the foundation for a durable, long-sting home.

  Satisfied with his initial prototype, he ran his fingers over the wooden frame, feeling the smooth, sanded edges. He mentally noted where improvements could be made, where reinforcement might be necessary. They would need to pierce through some beams to tch them together securely, ensuring the house could withstand weight and weather.

  Examining his work, he nodded to himself. The idea was sound. With the right materials and teamwork, this could be their first step toward a stable, permanent roof over their heads. The thought sent a thrill of anticipation through him. The project was ambitious, but with careful execution and enough hands to help, it was entirely possible. He envisioned the full-sized structure, standing tall against the elements, offering warmth and safety. This was more than just a shelter—it was a foundation for their future, a symbol of progress and stability. For the first time, he felt that they weren't just surviving; they were building something sting.

  At that moment, he felt a small hand touch the miniature model. Looking up, he saw Kali examining the structure, her eyes wide with curiosity and clear admiration for what he had built. Her fingers traced the edges of the wooden frame carefully, as if trying to understand its purpose.

  Realizing the sudden quiet around him, the boy turned his head. Apart from Kali, who was the closest, everyone had stopped what they were doing, their attention drawn to his creation. The silence was heavy with intrigue as the gathered men began connecting the model to the beams they had spent days cutting. It didn't take them long to recognize the simirity between their work and the framework of the tiny structure before them.

  Lara finally voiced the question on everyone's mind.

  "That... house?"

  Her tone carried curiosity, but also a hint of disbelief.

  The boy nodded.

  "Yes. This is a small model of what we will build."

  Despite the discomfort, his voice carried both excitement and confidence as he began getting to his feet.

  Standing as tall as his six-year-old frame allowed, he looked around at the gathered members of the group.

  Taking a deep breath, he spoke with conviction.

  "We will build this on that sb of stone," he began, gesturing toward the model in front of him.

  "Using the trees you have felled and carved into beams, we will construct a frame just like this one—but rger, strong enough to shelter all of us."

  He paused, letting his words settle before continuing.

  "Once the structure is complete, we will use the long wooden pnks you have separated. These will cover the roof and the sides of the house, leaving space only for the door to open and close properly. No longer will we have to endure the rain soaking our beds or the cold wind cutting through our camp."

  He gnced at his hands, still marked by the rough cement.

  Lifting them slightly, he continued,

  "These hands may still ache from ying the foundation, but that stone base will hold firm. It will support what we build and protect us from the damp ground. We will shape something real—something that will not be washed away."

  His eyes scanned the crowd, ensuring his words resonated.

  "Inside our home, we will be dry. We will be warm. We will have walls to protect us, a roof over our heads, and a pce to rest without fear."

  He gestured toward the model again.

  "This is more than just shelter. This is the beginning of something greater. A pce where we can thrive, not just survive. A home, for all of us."

  A quiet murmur spread among the group as his words sank in.

  The vision he painted was clear, and for the first time, a flicker of true anticipation could be seen in their expressions.

  The future was beginning to take shape, and they were ready to build it.