New Ground

The sun had already slid halfway behind the tree‑lined ridge by the time they reached the timber’s edge. From a distance the structure they’d escaped looked like a sheer granite mountain, its flanks rising in geometric defiance against the more forgiving curves of the surrounding hills. Only the twin doors—now shut tight and flush with the stone—hinted that the mountain was anything but natural.

Sai crouched near the boundary he drew a circle in the dirt and dug up a hole, he got some moss‑dappled soil and pulled together a couple of fist‑sized stones. Every so often he glanced back at the mountain, his thoughts lingered on the gates and that they might open again and something different may appear. Eira knelt beside him, passing rocks one by one while blowing stray strands of hair from her face.

“Circle’s wide enough?” she asked.

“Wide enough,” Sai murmured, spacing the stones evenly. “We’ll bank the coals against the inner rim and keep sparks low. Last thing we need is a forest fire.”

Ten or so steps away, Corvin raised his axe and gave a sapling an attempt of a cut. The blade barely notched the bark. He tried again, shoulders hunched, and managed little more than a dull thunk. Sweat beaded along his brow despite the cool evening air.

On the perimeter Mira paced in a slow arc, bow unstrung but arrow in hand, eyes sweeping from the shadows between trunks to the violet smear of sky above. Reith mirrored her circuit on the far side, scythe balanced casually across his shoulders as he followed the sound of water. Their faint footsteps and the rhythmic clack of stone on stone from Sai’s fire pit were the only sounds that broke the otherwise normal forest sounds of birds and winds.

After the third tentative strike, Corvin stepped back and studied the uncooperative sapling. “You could at least pretend to fall,” he muttered. He shifted his stance—feet too close together—then swung harder. The axe glanced off, skimming the trunk and burying itself in the dirt. He yanked it free with a growl.

Mira watched from a distance, pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation. She started toward him, thought better of it, and resumed her patrol.

He’ll figure it out—or wear himself out.

Reith, meanwhile, had found a cluster of dense pines. He pushed the end of his scythe towards his head so it slid of his shoulders, he caught it in the other hand and with a quick motions he trimmed lower branches, his scythe slicing through. He bundled the cuttings beneath one arm and gathered supple boughs and fern fronds until he could barely see over the heap. A small smile touched his lips—rare and faint—as he turned back toward camp.

At the clearing, Sai and Eira finished the pit. The ring of stones formed a neat circle, broken only by a narrow gap that acted as a draft. Eira brushed soil into the seams, sealing stray light.

Reith arrived along with the scent of pine. “Bedding,” he announced as he dropped it all on the ground. Mira looked back after noticing the sound. only to spot Reith already separating the long and short branches depending on their pine needles.

“Playing with leaves now?” Corvin called, staggering into the clearing with a half‑armful of crooked branches—some bruised from mis‑swings, others obviously gathered off the ground. He let them fall with theatrical flair. “I prefer quality lumber.”

Reith raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He laid the needles in a grid, fern on top, creating five crude pads. They were hardly mattresses, but after stone floors and sleepless nights, they looked inviting.

Mira joined them, as the cold air rolled in. She eyed Corvin’s pile. “That’ll burn, eventually,” she said diplomatically. “We still need tinder.”

“I’ve got bark shavings.” Corvin fished in his pocket and produced a modest fuzz of cedar curled from one of his more successful swings. “Saw an episode once—spark it with a rock and metal. Our fearless samurai there can oblige.” He nodded toward Sai’s sword.

Sai unsheathed the blade just a hair—enough steel to strike—then slid it back. “Flint?” he asked.

Reith tossed him a palm‑sized shard he’d pocketed from the riverbed below the hill. “Figured we’d need it.”

In companionable silence they worked: Corvin crumbled bark into a seat, Eira coaxed thin twigs into a teepee, Sai struck flint against steel until a bright shower of sparks hissed onto the tinder. On the fifth strike the bark glowed, then licked upward in a fragile orange tongue. The group leaned in, shielding the flame from evening breeze until it caught.

Firelight painted their faces—tired, wary, but unmistakably alive. For several minutes they simply watched the flames climb, each lost in private thought.

Mira broke the silence first.

“That mountain—and just the overall surroundings? I can’t place where we are.”

“Could be anywhere,” Corvin said, poking the kindling. “Could be nowhere. For all we know, we’re in the middle of some alien abduction and are about to be experimented on.”

Sai stared into the heart of the blaze. “Doesn’t feel like we would just be left here of all places.” He gestured to the tree line, the rocks, the call of a distant jay. “This feels… untouched.”

Eira hugged her knees. “Untouched doesn’t mean uninhabited.” Her gaze drifted past the fire to the darkening woods. “We should keep watches” She glanced at Reith and Mira.

Reith nodded once. “I’ll take first watch.”

Corvin yawned extravagantly. “Fine by me. I’ll dream of actual beds.”

“While you do that, ill be dreaming of someone competent chopping our firewood,” Mira teased.

Corvin opened his mouth with a retort, then seemed to think better of it. He shrugged and settled on one of Reith’s pine mats. “Wake me if anything tries to eat us—or if you decide it’s me you want to eat.”

“Tempting,” Reith murmured, a wisp of humor ghosting across his features.

Mira adjusted her quiver as she laid down next to the circle of fire, scanning for movement despite it not being her watch. Reith’s boots landed over and over again silently on the strewn ground.