Chapter 19 - Chapter 18 - The Birth of a Tradition

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In the morning, Athan wakes up in a good mood and goes to check the fields. Several plants have broken through the surface during the night in Field 2. The soil is still moist, so there is no need to activate the watering system. After washing his hands and face, the boy heads towards the wall, specifically the section they are currently closing, which is located in front of the future toilets.

Speaking to the men, he instructs them to attach a log approximately 30 centimeters above the ground, leaving a gap underneath for organic waste to eventually pass through into the forest. He hands them two flat stones and asks them to place them upright on either side of the log to keep it elevated before securing it in place.

He then advises them to attach two support logs on each side to reinforce the structure, ensuring its stability and durability over time.

The boy left the men and returned to tending the fields, meticulously clearing the pathways that had been dirtied by water runoff, ensuring that the soil remained loose and well-aerated for future planting. He checked the moisture levels of the soil, taking note of any areas that might require additional attention in the coming days. Once satisfied, he turned his attention to preparing future Field 10, marking the boundaries and beginning the initial process of clearing rocks and weeds from the area.

However, before he could get far, a group of women approached him. Their expressions were a mix of curiosity and expectancy.

One of them, a younger woman with long, dark hair named Fre, stepped forward hesitantly, clutching the edge of her leather clothing.

"Athan… make comb? Like Lara?" she asked, voice cautious but hopeful. "We have long hair too."

Behind her, the others nodded in agreement, their gazes fixed on him, waiting.

Having thought about this issue for part of the night, Athan looked at each of them carefully, taking in their expectant expressions.

Athan, having thought about this issue for part of the night, looked at each of them carefully. Taking in their expectant expressions.

He sighed, then spoke in a calm but firm tone.

"I'm sorry, but no." His voice carried certainty, but not unkindness.

The women blinked, some shifting slightly.

"These combs are not just simple objects; they are meant to be crafted by a man for the woman he fancies." He gestured toward where Lara usually was. " Giving them away without meaning would take away their significance. "

Fre furrowed her brows. "Not same?"

Athan shook his head. "Would it feel right to receive one from me, knowing it should hold a deeper intention?"

His response made the women pause and think, just as he had intended. Some exchanged uncertain glances, while others lowered their gazes, considering his words carefully.

A few of them crossed their arms, frustration flickering across their faces, but none spoke out in protest. Fre, the one who had asked, furrowed her brows and bit her lip, as if trying to reconcile his explanation with her expectations.

One woman huffed softly, shaking her head, while another sighed and gave a small nod, seemingly accepting the reasoning. The group slowly began dispersing, murmuring among themselves, their expressions a mixture of disappointment and newfound understanding.

He didn't want to make combs for all the women of the clan—it was better for them to receive one from their own man. He felt only slightly bad for the men who would likely face some silent treatment unless they crafted a comb themselves, but at this point, that was no longer his problem. Smiling, the boy began cleaning the field without any worry.

In the meantime, Ok was being pestered by Medi and Fi as they worked alongside him to strip the bark from the trees that Wade and Yun had felled. The two women, who had initially approached Athan for a comb before seeking their own men, now turned their efforts towards Ok.

They surrounded him, standing close as they leaned in, speaking in low, coaxing voices, their tones laced with playful persistence.

Medi nudged his arm with a teasing smile. "Ok, you make comb, yes? You know wood. Easy for you."

Fi, crossing her arms, tilted her head and pouted slightly. "We wait, but not long. Combs needed. You strong. Good hands."

Ok hesitated, his hands tightening around the bark he was peeling. He could feel their expectant gazes on him, their subtle pressuring making it harder to focus. He glanced at them, noting the way Medi's fingers traced the rough wood as if already imagining it shaped into something delicate, while Fi shifted impatiently, her foot tapping lightly against the ground.

"I work," Ok finally muttered, trying to keep his focus on the task at hand.

Medi giggled. "Yes, but later, combs?"

Fi leaned closer. "You make, we happy. Maybe we happy for you too."

The way she said it sent a ripple of nervousness through him, and he swallowed hard. He wasn't sure if their playful flirting was just for fun or if they truly expected him to give in, but he knew one thing—he wasn't getting out of this easily. 

The same phenomenon spread among every man in the tribe—the idea that a comb was a mark of affection ignited a frenzy among the women, spreading like wildfire. The air buzzed with excitement and urgency, as women whispered among themselves, strategizing how to secure a comb before the others. Some sought out their partners with expectant expressions, while others were more forceful, grabbing their men's hands and placing them on wooden branches as if to demand, "Now, carve!"

Tensions flared, and friendly competition quickly turned into heated rivalries. Some women resorted to bargaining, offering small favors or extra portions of food, while others took a more aggressive approach, sulking or outright threatening to withhold warmth and companionship if their demands were ignored. The men, caught off guard by the sudden expectations, groaned in frustration but knew there was no escape.

At one point, two women nearly came to blows over a half-carved comb, each claiming it was meant for her. It took the intervention of Rael to settle the matter before it escalated into something worse. By the time the sun began to set, almost every man in the tribe was grumbling as they sat around their sharpening knives, awkwardly attempting to carve intricate patterns into pieces of wood, knowing that failure was not an option. 

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That day, the boy's tasks were progressing quickly—another field was completed. He took note of this achievement but, just like the previous nine, he still had no seeds to plant in it. He wondered what he could do about the situation, his mind racing for a solution.

Shrugging after a moment, still without a clear solution except for returning to the woods to search for more resources—something he couldn't do alone—he exhaled heavily. His gaze then drifted towards the pile of drying wood, neatly stacked and waiting to be transformed into beams or planks. The sheer volume of lumber was impressive, yet it brought a troubling realization.

As he studied the assortment of timber, a deep frown settled on his face. How could they construct buildings properly without nails? The technique he had used to craft his hammer had its limits, and he had already encountered these shortcomings when assembling his wheelbarrow. That project had been a struggle—each joint had required extensive carving to fit together, and even then, the structure had been barely stable. In motion, the wheelbarrow groaned and creaked, every jolt reminding him of its fragility.

Frustration flickered in his eyes. He clenched his fists, feeling the urge to improve their methods. The day he finally had nails, he swore to himself, he would rebuild the wheelbarrow—one that was not only functional but durable, silent, and efficient.

Letting out a sigh, the boy knew he could not begin carving alone—the task was far too large for just one person. Instead, he retrieved his wheelbarrow, which, as always, creaked loudly with every movement. He made his way toward the cliff near the waterfall, where the sound of rushing water filled the air. Arriving at the rocky area, he began selecting stones, carefully assessing their shape and weight before setting them aside.

He meticulously sorted the rocks into clear piles based on their type, paying close attention to their texture and color. As he worked, memories of his past life surfaced—back when he was just a child, fascinated by stones. He had once loved their various hues and intricate patterns, spending hours collecting and admiring them. That youthful passion had never truly faded, and as he grew older, he had gathered complementary knowledge, embedding itself into his mind, never to be forgotten. Now, those skills were proving useful as he examined each stone, considering how they might best be utilized in future construction efforts. 

Looking at most of the stones there, he immediately recognized their potential uses. The majority of the rocks scattered on the ground were limestone, a valuable resource. He knew that when heated to the right temperature, limestone could be turned into lime powder. By mixing this powder with sand and water, it would create a strong mortar, capable of easily and efficiently binding stones together. This discovery was crucial—it meant they could construct sturdier shelters, roads, and walls that would withstand time and the elements.

Excitement bubbled within him as he realized the impact this could have on their tribe's development. With proper use, they could quickly surpass the other settlements in terms of infrastructure and security. The thought of their small group transforming into a thriving, advanced community filled him with determination.

Without hesitation, he set to work, gathering all the valuable limestone into a single designated area. He knew he had to make it clear that these stones were special and should not be touched or used carelessly. Using his wheelbarrow, which groaned under the weight of each load, he quickly began constructing a sizable pile, ensuring that each rock was neatly arranged.

As he worked, his movements were swift and efficient, his focus unwavering. Sweat gathered on his brow, but he paid it no mind. The importance of this task outweighed any discomfort. He was so absorbed in his work that he didn't notice when Lara approached from behind. She stood for a moment, observing his efforts, her gaze shifting from him to the creaking wheelbarrow. Without saying a word, she knelt down and began collecting stones as well, carefully placing them in the designated pile.

She mimicked his method before hesitantly asking, "Where do these go?" Her voice was soft, uncertain, yet eager to contribute. The boy pointed to a pile with a smile, and she carefully aligned the rocks by shade and texture, attempting to match them just as he seemed to be doing. Her silent participation spoke volumes—though she did not fully understand what he was doing, she trusted him enough to follow his lead. Without questioning, she moved with careful and deliberate motions, placing each stone with the same precision he displayed, her focus sharpening with each movement as she grew more confident in the task.

She would occasionally glance at him, watching for approval or any subtle shifts in his expression that might indicate if she was making a mistake. Her fingers traced the rough surfaces of the stones, feeling their weight and texture, slowly developing a sense of their differences. A quiet rhythm formed between them, unspoken yet synchronized. The warmth of the sun bore down on their backs, dust clung to their hands and clothes, but neither seemed to mind. The unspoken understanding between them deepened as they worked side by side, each contributing to something larger than themselves.

After a while, the boy and girl had accumulated several piles of stones, with the one made from limestone standing out as the largest, nearly four times the size of the others. Alongside it, he had gathered a significant amount of granite, its rough and sturdy texture distinct from the softer limestone. There was also a large pile of sandstone, known for its durability and suitability for construction, its rough, grainy surface making it an ideal material for building solid structures. The boy ran his hands over its surface, appreciating its resilience and potential use for foundation work and walls.

Additionally, he had set aside a collection of smooth river stones, their surfaces polished by years of flowing water. These, he knew, could be useful for pathways, drainage systems, or even decorative elements to add refinement to their structures. He took a moment to examine the various sizes, contemplating their placement in future projects.

He had also a growing mound of fine gravel, its small, jagged pieces perfect for stabilizing foundations, improving traction on pathways, or filling gaps between larger stones. He considered its importance in road-making, realizing it would be crucial in creating durable, walkable surfaces for the settlement.

But his biggest find of the day was a stone ore, black with streaks of orange and red—clearly iron ore. The mineral was as big as his head, and he had discovered it beneath a pile of other stones near the cliff. Looking up, he realized it must have fallen from above. The thought made him wonder—was there an iron vein hidden up there? If so, it could change everything. But he had no way to climb and check, at least not yet.

Carefully, he lifted the heavy stone and moved it to the side, making sure to hide it behind a larger rock where others wouldn't easily find it. His mind raced with the possibilities. If he could find more, if he could figure out how to extract and refine it, the tribe could move beyond simple wooden and stone tools.

He clenched his jaw, realizing the challenge ahead. No one in the clan knew what iron was, let alone how to shape it into weapons or tools. But he did. The knowledge from his past life burned inside him, eager to be put to use. For now, he would keep this discovery to himself. If there was more, he would need a way to extract it without raising suspicion—until the time was right.

Putting the matter of the ore aside, he surveyed his growing stockpile, he began formulating plans for how best to utilize each material. His mind raced with ideas—stone-reinforced walls, sturdy flooring, even primitive road systems. The vision of a structured, well-planned settlement filled his thoughts, and for the first time, he truly believed in the possibility of transforming their tribe's way of life into something lasting and secure.

Lara watched the boy deep in thought before tilting her head and asking with a playful smile, "What we do now?" Her eagerness to help was evident in her tone.

Athan, looking at the setting sun, smirked and said, "Meal ready if you help more?" He winked, teasing her.

Lara rolled her eyes but grinned. "You also help with meal," she retorted, crossing her arms and raising a brow.

Athan chuckled at her quick comeback. "Okay, okay," he said with a grin, then pointed at the tools. "Go get dig tool. We make ground flat for bath, near waterfall."

Lara huffed playfully but turned on her heels, heading off to retrieve the tool. Athan smirked, shaking his head amused by the older girl, shifting another heavy stone into the wheelbarrow. He worked swiftly, lifting and moving rocks, the sound of them clinking together filling the quiet air.

When Lara returned, carrying the digging tool with exaggerated effort, she let out a strained breath. "Haa... heavy! Maybe you cook, I do strong work?" She smirked slightly, though her words were broken.

Athan chuckled, wiping sweat from his brow. "Oh? Now you are the strong one? Maybe I sit, and you dig all?"

Lara narrowed her eyes, puffing her cheeks in mild frustration before shaking her head. "You dream! Work now."

Laughing, Athan grabbed his tool and motioned for her to follow. The playful banter, despite the language barrier, kept their spirits high as they continued their labor. 

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Rael kept a watchful eye on her son as the day wore on. She was not amused by the commotion surrounding the combs, but she couldn't entirely blame him.

He had simply given a gift to the woman he fancied—a small token of appreciation for her help.

But what started as a simple gesture had grown into something else.

Now, the women of the clan competed for attention, trying to gain more favor from their shared partners. A problem that had never existed before was now taking root, disturbing the tribe's harmony.

Rael sighed, crossing her arms.

This needed to stop.

If left unchecked, these tensions could fester, creating deeper divisions. She had to act—before it got worse.

Nearby, Wade walked past, noticing his woman watching their son with a frown.

He knew that look.

She was thinking about the clan's trouble.

Stepping closer, he spoke simply.

"Talk to Athan? Boy always have ideas. Maybe help."

He shrugged. The boy had a way of finding answers when others couldn't.

Rael glanced at her partner, considering his words.

She would wait until after the meal.

First, the tribe's needs—then, she would deal with this growing tension.

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After a while, the boy stopped Lara from continuing. The afternoon was well advanced, and if they wanted to make the meal, they needed to start soon. About half the area for one of the two baths he envisioned had been dug. Maybe they could finish it by tomorrow evening.

He gathered their hoes and dropped them into the wheelbarrow before leading Lara toward the waterfall. Once there, Athan washed his hands and face, sighing in relief as the cool water refreshed him. Lara, however, hesitated a few steps behind, her body tense as she watched him. Her unease was clear.

"Be careful," she muttered, her voice quieter than usual.

Athan paused, glancing at her curiously. It wasn't like her to be so hesitant. Then, the realization hit him—no one in the tribe knew how to swim.

That was why Lara and his father had no problem retrieving the fish trap; the water had only reached their knees. But beyond that? The deeper parts of the river had always been off-limits. His parents had warned him from a young age never to go near the water unless it was for filling his waterskin or fetching water for the tribe and to always be under watch. Now, seeing Lara's wary expression, he understood why.

The boy said, "Come, clean your hands and face too. It is good to be clean."

The young woman huffed, crossing her arms. "I always clean!" she insisted, though her voice held a hint of doubt.

Despite her words, the afternoon of working the ground had made her sweat, and she could feel the dust clinging to her skin. Not wanting to smell bad, she hesitated before stepping forward, kneeling near the water's edge. She cupped the cool water in her hands, splashing it onto her face and rubbing away the sweat and grime. She sighed softly, the fresh sensation soothing against her warm skin, though she still threw a glance at Athan as if daring him to say anything more about it. 

The boy, still smiling, turned his attention back to the task at hand. He took a careful look at the field before opening the watering system, watching as the water slowly spread through the pathways, saturating the soil. He waited patiently until the ground was sufficiently moistened before shutting it off, ensuring they didn't waste any water. Satisfied with the work done, he turned to Lara, giving her a small nod before they both made their way back toward the fire circle, the warm glow of the setting sun casting long shadows behind them.

The embers in the fire circle were still glowing, so with a few dry pieces of wood, Athan quickly revived the flames. Once the fire was stable, he and Lara made their way toward the fish trap.

Lara stepped cautiously into the water, shivering slightly as the cool current swirled around her legs. Reaching for the woven trap, she pulled it up with a firm tug, water cascading from it as she lifted it higher. Inside, two large fish and two medium-sized ones flailed, their bodies twisting violently in an attempt to escape.

She grunted as she steadied the trap, then glanced at Athan. "Good fish today."

Athan nodded, grinning. "Big ones. Meal will be good."

Lara reached inside carefully, grabbing one of the larger fish and dropping it into their fish bag. One of the medium fish thrashed wildly, nearly slipping from her grasp, making her huff in frustration before managing to secure it. Athan chuckled at her struggle, but she only shot him a brief glare before continuing.

Once all the fish were secured, they reset the trap with fresh bait before heading back to the fire circle. The sun had dipped lower, casting a golden glow over the camp as the smell of burning wood filled the air. With the meal now in hand, they prepared to cook, the sound of crackling flames welcoming them back.

The boy began making several trips to fill the cooking pot with water while Lara carefully cut open the fish, gutting and cleaning them with practiced efficiency. Once the fillets were prepared, she set some of the meat aside for smoking, ensuring they had preserved food for later, while the fish heads and tails were placed in the pot to begin a simple but hearty soup.

As Athan continued his task, the hunters returned, carrying their latest catch—a large rabbit. One of the men approached him, recounting the hunt with a satisfied grin. "Rabbit come close to bait. Ulf throw spear, fast. Hit good." He gestured towards Ulf, who nodded in confirmation, holding up the rabbit with pride.

Athan glanced at the animal, noting its size. It was a solid catch and would add to their meal for the night. With a nod of approval, he returned to his task, knowing that every bit of food they gathered now would help them through the coming days.

Hunting those big rabbits was always difficult; the hunters had only managed to catch two since the village was established. The prey were incredibly fast, requiring both skill and a fair amount of luck to successfully trap or strike one down.

Lara worked carefully as she cut the rabbit open, taking special care not to damage the fur, knowing that Medi would want to tan it properly. She moved with practiced precision, her hands steady despite the fading light.

As always, the bones were cracked and added to the soup, their rich marrow enhancing the broth. Once stripped of their usefulness, the remaining bones were tossed into a pile near the fire. Athan had plans for these—he intended to burn them thoroughly before grinding them down into a fine powder. He knew from his past life that bone ash could be used to enrich the soil, providing valuable nutrients that would help strengthen future crops.

He glanced at the small pile, already calculating how much he would need to fertilize their fields properly. Every little improvement counted, and he was determined to use every resource efficiently.

The girl carefully arranged the rabbit meat on the smoking rack, ensuring the pieces were evenly spread to dry properly over the slow-burning embers. The rich, savory scent began to mingle with the wood smoke, a comforting reminder of the meal they would enjoy in the coming days. Knowing that a hearty ragout would be the best way to use the preserved meat, she mentally planned the ingredients they would need. With the preparations underway, she stepped back, glancing at Athan with a small nod of satisfaction before returning to tend the fire.

As the boy finished filling the pot, one of the hunters, Thad casually dropped some root vegetables into the broth, a staple in their meals. Athan paused, staring at them with sudden interest before turning to Lara and the hunter. "Can I have one?" he asked, his tone eager.

The girl and the man exchanged a glance before the hunter shrugged and handed him one. Athan held the root in his hand, turning it over, studying its texture and shape. A thought formed in his mind—if it grew in the wild, could he cultivate it in the fields? Could he regrow and multiply it, ensuring a steady food supply?

Excited by the idea, he quickly took the root and hurried back to Field 9. His mind raced with possibilities as he carefully selected a spot where the soil was loose and rich. Kneeling down, he used his fingers to dig a small hole, ensuring it was deep enough to protect the root while allowing it to sprout. He gently placed it inside, covering it with soil and patting it down with careful precision.

Would it take? Would it sprout and grow? He had no way of knowing for sure, but he was eager to find out. His past life had given him knowledge of farming, but experimenting in this world, with its different conditions, was a new challenge. He considered watering it but hesitated—too much water could rot it before it even had a chance to grow.

Instead, he decided to wait and observe. He quickly marked the spot with a small pile of river stones, ensuring he wouldn't lose track of it. Before heading back to his bedding, he took out his notebook, a habit he had formed to record everything new, and carefully wrote down the location, date, and soil condition. He also made a note to check the root daily, to see if any sprouts emerged or if he needed to adjust the conditions.

With a final glance at his small experiment, he stood up, brushing the dirt from his hands. This was just the beginning, but if it worked, it could mean something far greater than just one meal, meaning a steady supply of those roots.