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Athan stepped out of the trench area and made his way back to his bedding. He needed to deposit the village plan he had inspected earlier to keep it safe before heading out to gather materials. Carefully, he placed the rolled parchment on is bedding and weighed it down with a small branch to prevent it from shifting in the evening breeze.
With his task complete, he turned his attention to the next priority—finding branches shaped like a Y. Having already crafted twelve U-shaped pipes, he needed at least twenty-four Y-shaped branches to support each end properly.
Using the fading sunlight as his guide, he made his way toward the pile of branches that his father and Yun had cut from the trunks meant for the wall. The heap was a mix of thick and thin branches, some still bearing rough bark, while others had been stripped down to reveal the pale, fresh wood beneath. He crouched down, running his hands over the uneven surfaces, feeling the splinters prick his skin as he assessed their shapes.
He examined them closely, searching for Y-shaped pieces that could be repurposed for his project. Some were too frail, while others were gnarled and twisted beyond use. He set aside a few promising ones, stacking them neatly beside him. The warm hues of the setting sun filtered through the canopy, casting long shadows across the ground and highlighting the rough texture of the freshly cut wood. The scent of resin filled the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of damp soil as he worked diligently, ensuring he would have enough materials to begin his construction in the morning.
His plan was simple: gather as many as possible before nightfall so that tomorrow he could begin his day with all the necessary materials in hand. Now that he had inspected the pile left by his father and Yun, he shifted his attention to the surrounding trees, hoping to supplement his collection. His keen eyes darted from trunk to trunk, analyzing their structure and potential usefulness. Some branches were still too young, while others had brittle limbs that would snap too easily under pressure.
The evening air was crisp, filled with the scent of resin from the freshly cut wood and the damp earth beneath his feet. Shadows stretched across the ground as he carefully maneuvered through the underbrush, reaching up to test a few promising branches. He worked with precision, ensuring that each selection would be sturdy enough to support his construction, determined to complete his task before darkness fully set in.
As the final rays of the sun disappeared beyond the horizon, Athan let out a satisfied breath. He had completed his task, having found a total of twenty-seven Y-shaped branches. The day's work had been fruitful, and tomorrow he would begin assembling the watering system with them.
Feeling the fatigue creeping into his limbs, he made his way back to his bedding to retrieve his bowl before heading to the meal line. The day's labor had left his muscles sore, and the idea of a warm meal was a welcome relief. The air carried the rich scent of simmering stew, mixed with the faint crackling of the cooking fire.
Lara stood at the makeshift serving station, her fingers gripping Athan's bowl a little too tightly as she took it from him. A flicker of hesitation passed across her face before she dipped the bowl into the cooking pot, letting the steaming broth fill it. The scent of herbs and simmered meat rose between them, but Lara seemed momentarily distracted, her movements stiff and deliberate.
Using the long wooden spoon Athan had crafted, she carefully scooped up large chunks of root vegetables and meat from the bottom, placing them in his portion with an almost mechanical precision. Her shoulders remained tense, and as she finally handed the bowl back to him, her eyes darted away, avoiding his gaze.
Athan noticed the unease in her demeanor. Her fingers trembled slightly before she pulled them back, her posture rigid as she turned back to the pot. He met her avoidance with a questioning look, his brow furrowing slightly, but chose not to press the issue. Instead, he silently took his meal and stepped away, feeling the warmth of the stew seep through the bowl and into his hands. Lifting the bowl to his lips, he drank the hot broth directly, savoring the rich taste of herbs and meat. He picked out the larger chunks with his fingers, eating slowly as he had settled into a quiet spot. Yet, despite the comforting meal, the lingering curiosity about Lara's reaction stayed in his mind.
Feeling the weight of several gazes on him, Athan lifted his head, his senses sharpening. The murmuring of the clan members around him didn't fade, but it grew more hushed, more conspiratorial. As he glanced around, he caught sight of a few women from the tribe quickly turning away, feigning disinterest as they focused on their meals. Yet their averted gazes and poorly concealed grins told a different story.
Others, however, made no attempt to hide their amusement. A small cluster of women exchanged glances, their lips curling into knowing smiles. A few even let out hushed giggles, their eyes flicking between him and Lara before quickly whispering amongst themselves. The sound carried just enough for him to catch it, but not enough for him to make out their words.
Athan felt a flicker of unease. He wasn't imagining things. The clan members' reactions were unmistakable—there was an unspoken understanding among them, a shared knowledge that eluded him. He could feel it in the way their eyes lingered, in the suppressed laughter, in the quick glances toward Lara before looking away. Whatever it was, he was at the center of it, and it unsettled him more than he cared to admit.Â
Suddenly, a thought flashed through his mind—were they implying that he and Lara were a pair? The idea made his stomach twist in surprise. He had been so focused on survival and innovation that the concept of romance had never crossed his mind, at least not in this life. If he factored in his past existence, he would be around twenty-four years old, an adult with firm opinions on what was appropriate. But to the tribe, he was nothing more than a six-year-old boy, standing beside a girl on the cusp of adulthood.
The age gap unsettled him, making his mind race with contradictions. In the world he had once known, such a difference would have been unacceptable, a topic of heavy scrutiny and even jail time. But here, in this untamed land, relationships were dictated by survival, lineage, and the continuation of the tribe. There were no written rules, no societal constructs against such things—only the unspoken understanding of what was practical and necessary.
Athan exhaled slowly, his thoughts a storm of conflicting emotions. The idea felt unnatural to him now, like a concept he wasn't prepared to entertain. But could he say the same in a few years? The uncertainty gnawed at him. A part of him rejected the notion outright, clinging to the values ingrained in him from his past life. Yet, another part, the pragmatic side adapting to this world, recognized that as he matured, perspectives might shift, shaped by the harsh realities of survival and the expectations of the tribe.
He closed his eyes briefly, grounding himself in the present. There was no need to dwell on uncertainties when the path ahead was already filled with challenges. Strengthening the tribe, securing food, shelter, and protection—these were his concerns. His own future, whatever it might entail, could wait until the time was right. Right now, he had a responsibility not just to himself, but to the people who depended on him, and he wasn't about to let distractions cloud his purpose.
Letting the matter drop, he chose to ignore the lingering gazes and hushed comments from the others. Instead, he turned his attention to the night sky, his mind shifting to the tasks of the next day. The flickering campfires cast long shadows around him, but it was the celestial expanse above that truly caught his focus. The moon bathed the landscape in a pale glow, and as his eyes roamed the vast spread of stars, a strange realization crept over him.
Some of the constellations were familiar, their arrangements evoking a distant memory of countless nights spent staring at the sky in his past life. But others seemed out of place, shifted slightly or completely absent, as if the heavens themselves bore the marks of a world different from the one he had once known. A lingering unease settled in his chest. Had he merely forgotten, or was this yet another sign that he was in a reality entirely unlike his own?
He let out a slow breath, pushing the thought aside for now. Tomorrow had its own challenges, and he needed to be ready. With that, he lay back on his bedding, allowing the soft hum of the night to lull him into rest, though the quiet questions in his mind remained unanswered.
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As the first rays of sunlight warmed the land, Athan rose with a renewed sense of purpose. He stretched his arms and rolled his shoulders, shaking off the stiffness from the night before. With steady determination, he set off to retrieve the Y-shaped branches he had gathered the previous evening. The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and fresh foliage as he moved through the camp.
Once he reached the pile, he took out his knife and set to work, methodically stripping away the small excess twigs and peeling off the rough bark with careful precision. The freshly exposed wood revealed a pale, smooth surface beneath, contrasting against the darker, aged outer layer. Running his fingers along the cleaned wood, he could feel the natural grain beneath his touch, each curve and knot a testament to the branch's growth.
After ensuring each branch was free of unnecessary protrusions, he gripped his knife firmly and began carving the base of each Y-branch into a pointed stake. With slow, deliberate strokes, he shaped the ends into sharp, sturdy points, making sure they would drive deep into the soil without splitting. The rhythmic motion of cutting and shaping became almost meditative, the repetitive task keeping his thoughts centered. Occasionally, he tested the strength of the wood, pressing a sharpened end against the ground to ensure it wouldn't crack under pressure.
Though the work was rough and far from elegant, he found himself satisfied with the results. These supports weren't meant to be decorative; they were functional, crafted for endurance rather than aesthetics. Looking over his finished pile, he gave a small nod of approval before moving on to the next step of his plan.
With all the U-shaped pipes laid out the previous day, he took a step back, mentally mapping where to plant each support. He reserved the tallest branches for placement near the waterfall, where greater height would help regulate the flow, while the shorter ones would be placed closer to the fields for a gentle descent. Gripping his newly crafted wooden hammer, he set to work, starting with the supports nearest to the cultivated land.
He adjusted each stake by eye, testing the fit of the U-shaped pipes as he progressed. Ensuring the water's flow was neither too steep nor too sluggish required careful placement. Just as he drove the third Y-branch into the soil, he felt unexpected resistance—a hidden underground rock obstructed his efforts. Frustrated but undeterred, he paused, kneeling down to dig out the obstruction with his hands before carefully refilling the hole and planting the support once more.
As he moved closer to the waterfall, the number of buried stones increased, forcing him to stop several times to clear obstacles. He wiped his brow, exhaling deeply as he sat on a nearby rock to rest, gazing at the roaring cascade. The sheer power of the falling water reassured him, reminding him why this irrigation system was essential.
Once the final Y-branch was in place, its base secured by a mound of carefully stacked stones, Athan took a step back, wiping his hands against his tunic. His fingers were sore from gripping the wooden hammer for so long, but the exhaustion was overshadowed by anticipation. Now came the true test—would the structure function as intended?
He took a deep breath, steadying himself before carefully positioning the final U-shaped pipe at the waterfall's edge. As soon as it was in place, water surged forward, tumbling into the channel with a rush. The force of gravity pulled the liquid down through the wooden conduits, cascading smoothly from one segment to the next, each connection allowing it to continue its descent without spilling over the edges.
Athan moved alongside the flow, eyes scanning for weak points or leaks. The sound of trickling water filled the air, a soothing contrast to the usual stillness of the land. Droplets clung to the wooden supports, reflecting the morning sunlight like scattered jewels. A few smaller splashes escaped from imperfect joints, but nothing severe enough to disrupt the system. He felt a sense of relief—his efforts were paying off.
As he neared the fields, his gaze followed the stream as it pooled into the designated area, filling the stone-lined trench he had carefully laid out. The sight filled him with pride. He crouched down, running his fingers through the flowing water, feeling its coolness against his skin. It worked. The tribe would have a stable water source for the field, and this was just the beginning of what he could build.
Watching the water crash against the ground, Athan quickly noticed that the single stone placed at the point of impact was not enough to prevent soil erosion. Small rivulets formed around the rock, carving thin channels into the earth as the force of the current displaced loose dirt and pebbles. The problem was clear—the stone was too small to effectively break the flow of water. If left unchecked, the erosion would only worsen, compromising the integrity of his system.
To mitigate the issue, he quickly placed a large stone where the water struck the ground, breaking the momentum to prevent further erosion. He made a mental note to build a small containment basin to stabilize the final water outlet. This would allow for better control of the water's dispersal and avoid unnecessary damage to the terrain.
As Athan observed the flow of water, he quickly noticed areas where the current moved too rapidly. In certain spots, the angle was too steep, allowing the water to rush downward with excessive force, splashing everywhere. He realized that adding a layer of packed earth beneath the stakes could help reduce the incline, slowing the descent and preventing unnecessary stress on the system.
Additionally, where the waterfall's flow entered the first pipe, the sheer force of the impact caused the structure to tremble slightly. The vibrations unsettled him—if left unaddressed, this section of the system would likely weaken over time and eventually collapse under continuous pressure. Determined to reinforce the design, he carefully removed the U-shaped pipe feeding water from the waterfall and set it aside.
As he thought about the issue, he realized he needed something to break the water's fall before it entered the system. Perhaps placing an additional wooden piece could serve as a deflector, dispersing the force of the flow and reducing the direct impact on the pipes. This would help stabilize the structure and prevent unnecessary strain over time, only requiring the occasional replacement of the wooden deflector when needed.Â
Rolling up his sleeves, he began making the necessary modifications. He adjusted the slope by carefully layering compacted soil around the stakes, pressing it down to create a more stable incline. To further stabilize the base where the waterfall entered the system, Athan installed the newly crafted wooden deflector. He carefully wedged the wooden piece at an angle, allowing it to disperse the force of the falling water before it reached the pipes. To secure it in place, he strategically placed additional stones around its base and packed the surrounding earth tightly. The deflector immediately softened the impact, causing the water to flow more evenly and reducing vibrations in the structure.
The work proved more time-consuming than he had anticipated. Each adjustment required careful testing, ensuring the modifications improved stability without disrupting the overall flow. As the hours passed, sweat beaded on his brow, but he remained focused, determined to see the project through. By the time the sun had dipped low in the sky, he finally completed the adjustments. Exhausted but satisfied, he stepped back to admire his work, hopeful that these reinforcements would ensure the irrigation system's longevity.Â
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As the sun dipped below the horizon and Athan had yet to return for supper, his father and mother, who had been keeping an eye on him throughout the day, decided to check on him. They found him drenched, his tunic damp with sweat and water, his hands covered in dirt and small cuts from handling wood and stone all day. His hair stuck to his forehead, and streaks of dried mud covered his arms, but despite his exhausted state, there was a deep sense of satisfaction in his eyes.
His father's sharp gaze scanned the wooden and stone framework, his brow furrowing with curiosity. He stepped closer, running a calloused hand along one of the wooden supports, testing its stability. The structure was solid, standing firm despite the day's long work. The smell of damp earth and freshly cut wood lingered in the air, a testament to the labor Athan had poured into the project. For now, the system remained inactive, waiting for the moment Athan would demonstrate its purpose. Around them, the faint rustling of the evening breeze carried the sounds of the village winding down after a long day.
His mother lingered a few steps behind, her expression unreadable as she observed her son's work. Around them, a few other clan members approached hesitantly, drawn by the sight of the strange structure and the determination etched on Athan's young face.Â
"Athan, what this?" his father asked, his voice holding both interest and doubt.
Athan wiped his hands on his tunic and straightened. "This is water system," he explained, gesturing towards the structure. "Come, I show."
Leading them towards a small patch of land, he crouched and pointed at the ground. "Here, I put seed. Small. Weak. Needs sun. Needs warm. But most, needs water."
His father knelt beside him, running his fingers over the soil. "Water come from system?"
Athan nodded. "Yes. See now." He hurried back to the structure, carefully positioning the final U-shaped pipe at the system's entrance. With a firm push, he locked it into place, completing the flow path. A moment of stillness followed before the first rush of water surged forward, tumbling down the wooden channels. The gathered villagers watched with wide eyes as the stream wove through the carefully positioned supports, cascading into the stone-lined trenches Athan had meticulously arranged. The soft gurgle of flowing water filled the air, blending with the crackling of distant fires and the hushed murmurs of the observing crowd.
Gasps and murmurs spread through the gathering crowd as they watched the water move naturally toward the soil. His mother stepped forward, eyes wide with wonder. "No need carry water?"
Athan shook his head, a proud smile forming. "No. Water come morning, come night. Soil stay wet. Plants grow better."
His father exhaled, rubbing his chin. "No need heavy carry," he muttered, clearly seeing the benefit of Athan's system.
One of the hunters, arms crossed, gestured toward the waterfall with a skeptical expression. "What if water too much? Wood break?"
Athan had expected the question. "Water too much? Goes there," he pointed to the deflector the absorb the pressure form the fall. "Wood break? I fix. Make stronger."
Medi reached down, letting water run over her fingers. "Like river, but we control?"
Athan nodded. "Yes."
The crowd murmured among themselves, exchanging glances of surprise and admiration. Some, still cautious, stepped forward, running their hands over the wooden supports and tracing the path of the water with their fingers, as if trying to understand the system through touch. Others whispered among themselves, their eyes flicking between Athan and the flowing water, realization slowly settling in.
One of the older women, turned to Athan's mother. She studied the boy for a moment, watching the quiet determination in his eyes, before leaning in and whispering, "Your boy… he different. Make life better."
Athan stood quietly, watching their reactions. This was only the start. If they could see how useful this was, they would begin to understand what else could be done, and then they would be shocked.
After the demonstration, Athan let the water flow for a while, ensuring the field received enough moisture to last through the night. Once satisfied, he carefully removed the final U-shaped pipe, shutting off the system. With the water now redirected, he took a moment to observe the soaked earth, nodding to himself before stepping away. As the rest of the tribe began forming a line for dinner, he wiped his damp hands on his tunic, his stomach growling in anticipation of a well-earned meal.
As before, Lara would not talk to the boy nor look his way, seemingly too shy to acknowledge him. That treatment might have hurt a real six-year-old, but Athan found it rather endearing. He chose not to press the matter, simply shrugging it off while his thoughts drifted to the expansion he planned for the field.
He wanted to enlarge the cultivated area, remove the existing wild plants, and burn the stubborn trunks and roots that resisted extraction. Additionally, he aimed to increase the number of stones lining the pathways, ensuring that the water could flow properly without turning the soil into thick mud as he walk those pathways.
Another thought crossed his mind—keeping track of his plantings. He considered making a simple record book to note essential details: the type of seeds he planted, the number of days before they sprouted, and what kind of plants emerged. Such information would be invaluable for planning future crops, allowing him to better understand which plants thrived and how best to manage the fields.Â
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As always, Rael was surprised by her son. He had told her before about how crops needed to be watered often, and she had imagined just how much time and effort such a task would require. She had pictured placing several people to carry water back and forth, ensuring that hundreds of plants received enough moisture to feed the tribe. The sheer manpower it would take seemed overwhelming.
Athan had spoken about the watering system he wanted to create, but she hadn't fully grasped what he meant until she saw it with her own eyes. Pouring water from a waterskin onto a plant—this she could visualize. But what the boy had built went far beyond her expectations.
Yet, as she examined the structure, she realized it made perfect sense. Water always flowed downward unless something stopped it, just like a waterskin with a hole at the bottom. That, she understood. Athan had simply taken this natural principle and applied it in a way that no one in the tribe had ever considered. The channels he had carved, the supports he had placed, and the careful positioning of each component all worked together to guide the water exactly where it was needed. It was effortless, efficient, and, most importantly, it freed the tribe from the exhausting labor of hauling water by hand.
She traced a finger along the smooth wood of one of the channels, feeling the lingering dampness where the water had flowed. The tribe had never needed such a thing before—they had always been moving, never staying in one place long enough to consider growing food in this way. But now, with settlement becoming a necessity, the sheer simplicity of it was almost frustrating.
Now that she saw it in action, it seemed so obvious, yet only Athan had looked at the problem and devised a solution. He had taken what was natural—water flowing downward—and given it purpose, guiding it where it was needed instead of letting it go to waste. It was a concept so simple yet so effective that it left her speechless.
A quiet realization had long ago settled in her mind: her son saw the world differently. Where others simply followed what had always been, he created new paths, reshaping not just how they worked, but how they lived. And that thought, while filling her with pride, also unsettled her. How and where did those ideas keep coming to him so naturally?
She turned her gaze back to him, standing near the structure with his small hands still smeared with dirt and sweat, his expression unreadable as he studied his work. He was young, the only child of the tribe, yet in that moment, he looked more like a leader than a boy. A sense of awe swelled in her chest, mixed with something else—pride, yes, but also a flicker of something close to fear. Change was not always welcome, and she knew that what Athan was doing now was only the beginning, she felt it as she looked at her child.Â
Watching the other member of the tribe, she knew that not everybody would welcome changing tradition, fearing what they could not comprehend. Fearing that change would be bad. But as his mother what else could she do ? She needed to protect her son's from those who'd fear him. As the leader she could do it and she would.Â
Watching over her son as everyone waited for their meal, Rael and the rest of the tribe observed how Lara acted when Athan looked at her—how she averted her gaze quickly, only to glance back at him when he wasn't looking. It was subtle, but noticeable. The way of the clan dictated that women were the ones to signify their interest in a man of their choosing. With the men of the clan constantly placed in dangerous situations, choosing a mate was complicated—women wanted a partner who would survive, especially if they bore children.
That was why she had remained the only woman of Wade, while most men of the clan had multiple women with them. Other women had not wanted to risk being left alone with a child if their mate—especially the leader, the one who would need to make the most dangerous decisions when threats arose, sometimes even fighting those threats so the clan could move on—were to die. The risk was too great, and so they had chosen safety over Wade companionship.
Now, seeing Lara's actions, Rael wondered if the girl had already begun considering such things. Though Athan was still young, he was different—he had the soul of a born leader. He was changing things, proving himself resourceful and strong in ways no other male of the tribe had. Would that draw attention? Would that make others start to see him not just as a child, but as a future mate?
For now, there was no immediate concern—Lara was the only woman in the tribe without a mate. But in the future, things could become complicated if the girl sought him out without considering what his position might become. The idea unsettled Rael. As his mother, she wanted to protect him, not just from external dangers but from the weight of choices he might not yet understand.
With a sigh, Rael decided to address the matter directly. After the meal, she approached Lara, signaling for her to follow. The two women stepped away from the group, moving to a quieter spot where they wouldn't be overheard. The faint glow of the fire cast flickering shadows on the ground as they walked, the distant murmur of the clan filling the silence between them. Rael stopped near a large tree, arms crossed, studying Lara for a moment before speaking. Her gaze was steady, her voice calm but firm, carrying the weight of experience and quiet authority.
"What you want from Athan?" she asked, her words simple but carrying the weight of something much deeper.
Lara hesitated, shifting on her feet. Her hands tightened into small fists at her sides before she finally raised her head to meet Rael's gaze. "I… don't know," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "He… different."
Rael's expression remained unreadable. "Different how?"
Lara's fingers twitched as she struggled to find the right words. "He not like others. He make things. Change things. Think big." She bit her lip, glancing away before continuing. "He strong. Not with hands, but with mind."
Rael nodded slowly, taking in the girl's words. "You watch him much. You like him?"
Lara's cheeks darkened, her head dipping in a mixture of embarrassment and uncertainty. "I not know. Not yet." She inhaled deeply before looking back at Rael. "But I… see him. I want to know more."
Rael studied her for a long moment, then crossed her arms. "Athan still child. You older. You know what that mean?"
Lara's expression shifted, a mix of realization and confusion crossing her features. "He not stay child forever. One day, he man."
Rael sighed, rubbing her temple. "True. But now, not time for that. He think of tribe, not himself. He make water, make field. He not think of women."
Lara nodded slowly, absorbing Rael's words. "I understand. I wait. I watch. I not rush."
Rael searched Lara's face for any sign of deception but found none. With a small nod, she relaxed slightly. "Good. You be careful. Athan different, yes. But difference bring danger, too. Some fear what they not understand."
Lara's expression hardened slightly. Her eyes were fierce, filled with quiet determination. "Then I watch not just him. I watch others, too."
Rael finally allowed herself a small smile. "Smart girl." She placed a hand on Lara's shoulder, giving a firm but approving squeeze before turning back toward the rest of the tribe. "Come. We go back. Night cold."
Lara nodded, following Rael silently. Though the conversation had been brief, an unspoken understanding had passed between them. They both knew that Athan was not just any child—he was something more, something that would shape the tribe's future. And whether that future was bright or dangerous would depend not just on him, but on those who watched over him.