WLTBneet
patreon
Chapter 27 - A Weed’s Worth
🕑 Added 2025-03-10 21:00:03 +0000 UTCAthan woke up the next morning after a restless night, surprised of even having fallen asleep, his thoughts awash with confusion and apprehension. Following Kali's declaration that she wished to become his partner—just as Lara intended to be in the future—he felt the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him. Torn between curiosity at what such a life might entail and doubt over his own capabilities, the boy struggled to find clarity in the whirlwind of emotions swirling within him. Before he could formulate any kind of response, his mother had taken both girls aside.
The boy had never pictured himself as a man surrounded by multiple women. He had not inherited any extraordinary abilities upon his reincarnation, and he doubted whether he could meet the expectations of more than one companion. Still having no more time nor answer when he saw Kali and Lara returning—and fully expecting Lara to voice her disapproval, saving him from the choice—he nearly lost his breath when she calmly declared that she accepted Kali into their family, as though it were the most natural decision in the world.
Dumbfounded, the boy could no longer speak; he only stared at them in disbelief.
His thoughts spun in circles, each colliding with the next, leaving him breathless with confusion and apprehension.
Lara then approached Athan, taking his hand and pulling him toward her shelter, assuming that he would sleep there with her.
Athan did not react, still too stunned to process what was happening.
But before they could move, Kali stepped in front of them, her eyes welling with tears.
"No fair, Lara! You stay with him last night too! It my turn!" she protested, moving closer to Athan, pleading with her eyes.
Lara stopped and turned to her, her voice calm but firm.
"Kali, move. Athan sleeps with me tonight."
Kali’s tears turned to frustration, her hands clenching into fists.
"Why always you first?" she snapped. "I want to sleep next to him too!"
Lara sighed, crossing her arms.
"Kali, it’s not about first or last. I just want time with him too."
Kali stomped a foot lightly, her brows furrowed.
"Then let me too! We both can!"
Meanwhile, Athan’s heart thumped uncomfortably, torn between the embarrassment of this tug-of-war and a strange sense of curiosity about how he had ended up at the center of it.
Seeking some kind of rescue, he cast a pleading look at his father.
Yet Wade, with a faintly amused smirk, merely took a step back, signaling that he would not intervene.
In that moment, Athan realized he would have to figure out how to handle this chaotic rivalry on his own. He could almost feel the tension crackling in the air as both girls stood on either side of him, refusing to back down. Any words he might have mustered died in his throat, leaving him silent and uncertain.
The boy still couldn't understand how he had ended up in such a predicament. He had never had the chance to refuse or confirm any relationship with Kali, yet it seemed everyone around him already considered it settled. Looking into Kali's tearful eyes, he found himself unable to turn her away. Feeling lost and eager to avoid conflict, he decided to go along with things for the sake of keeping the peace.
Ultimately, he agreed to sleep—simply sleep—with both girls. The moment he lay down, he found himself truly "sandwiched" between them, with no space to move. Their scents—each girl's own scents, lingering sweat, and something comforting—floated around him, filling his senses. While the warmth of their bodies pressed in on him from both sides, he also felt a faint thrill at this new level of closeness.
Each girl used one of his shoulders as a pillow, and after a short while, Athan's arms began to go numb. He could hear their soft breathing and even the quiet rhythm of their hearts, beating steadily against him. From time to time, he tried to shift slightly, hoping to ease the tingling in his limbs, but whenever he did, Kali and Lara only clung closer, murmuring in their sleep. The heat in the small space made the night stifling, and the constant repositioning of the girls' bodies prevented him from finding any real comfort.
Despite the discomfort, Athan found his mind drifting in and out of a strange sense of calm. There was something oddly reassuring about being so close to two people who clearly wanted to be near him, even if their presence weighed on him like a heavy blanket. In the midst of this tumultuous situation, he realized that this night—uncomfortable and confusing as it was—might be the start of an entirely new chapter in his life, one marked by both unexpected intimacy and the challenges of sharing himself with more than one person.
----------------
After a while, still reflecting on the tangled events of the night before, the boy gently shook the girls awake. The soft morning light revealed just how disheveled they were: Kali's hair stuck out in unruly clumps, and a faint line of dried drool traced her chin, while Lara's cheek was reddened where it had pressed against Athan's shoulder. Their unfocused eyes, heavy with the weight of interrupted sleep, spoke of lingering exhaustion and unspoken worries.
Seeing them in this vulnerable state stirred a rush of conflicting emotions in the boy. Part of him felt protective, wishing he could shield them from discomfort, while another part couldn't shake the knot of guilt twisting in his stomach at how uncertain everything seemed. Nonetheless, he quietly urged them to rise.
Once the girls lifted their heads, the boy tried to shift his arms, which had gone stiff and numb from being pinned beneath them all night. A tingling shock ran from his shoulders down to his fingertips, making him wince. The girls gave him a sleepy, apologetic glance, but he forced a small smile to reassure them he was all right.
Moving slowly, the three of them shuffled toward the nearby waterfall basin, each groggy step echoing the emotional upheaval still swirling in their minds. The fresh scent of wet earth and wild leaves hung in the air, and the low roar of falling water drew them onward, promising a momentary reprieve from the tension of the night.
When they reached the basin, Kali carefully dipped her hand in first, letting out a small gasp as the cold water hit her skin. Lara followed, splashing her face with a quiet sigh, as though rinsing away the final remnants of sleep—and possibly some of last night's confusion. Athan, still feeling the dull ache in his shoulders, leaned down to wash his face and hands. The cool shock on his skin sent a shiver through him, yet he welcomed it, hoping it might clear the haze in his head.
For a brief moment, as water dripped from their faces, the three stood in a peaceful silence. They shared the rare calm of a new morning, bound by the memory of a cramped, restless night that had left them all changed in small but meaningful ways.
Once Athan had recovered a bit, he headed out to inspect the fields, with the two girls trailing close behind. The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and fresh greenery. As they approached, he crouched down on the pathway, running his fingers through the soil of field 1. It was still damp from last night's rain, a sign that the ground had retained enough moisture. This meant he could hold off on activating the watering system until evening, ensuring the plants wouldn't be overwatered.
He moved on to fields five and six, both of which had sprouted thanks to the recent rain. To his delight, small green sprouts had begun pushing through the dark soil the day before, their delicate stems standing as proof that their efforts had not been in vain. More and more new shoots were breaking through today, dotting the fields with tiny patches of vibrant green. A satisfied smile crept onto his lips—each sprout was a sign of progress for his agricultural project.
However, his satisfaction was short-lived as his eyes fell on the clusters of unwanted growth scattered throughout the plots. Weeds. They had wasted no time taking advantage of the rain, sprouting up between the crops in an effort to claim the nutrients for themselves. Identifying them wasn't too difficult—Athan had been meticulous when planting, ensuring that only one type of seed occupied each field. Any plant that deviated from the majority stood out like an intruder.
Among the common grassy shoots, something else caught his attention. Bright yellow dandelions, their jagged leaves unmistakable, had taken root all over the fields. At first, he scowled at them, memories from his past life surfacing. His previous father had waged war against dandelions every summer, cursing their persistent spread. But Athan saw more than just stubborn weeds—he saw opportunity. The entire plant was edible: the leaves could be tossed into salads or be put in their stews for now, the flowers used to enrich stews or meat, and the roots, when dried and boiled, could serve as an energy-boosting drink similar to coffee. Instead of wasting time fighting them, he would make use of them.
Determined to make the most of these dandelions, Athan knelt down and carefully dug them up, ensuring he preserved as much of the root system as possible. He separated them into neat piles—roots to be dried, leaves and flowers for immediate use. His hands moved with practiced precision, brushing away excess dirt before placing each part into their respective piles.
Kali and Lara, who had been watching him work, eventually crouched down to help.
At first, their movements were hesitant, but as they observed Athan’s method, they grew more confident.
Occasionally, they would pause to ask him whether a certain plant was a weed or something useful.
Lara, holding up a dandelion with a puzzled expression, asked,
"Why keep these?"
Kali, plucking at the petals of another, added,
"They taste good?"
Athan chuckled.
"You'll see. The leaves and flowers make stews thicker. The roots—if prepared right—can even replace coffee."
Lara raised an eyebrow.
"Coffee?"
Kali tilted her head.
"What’s coffee?"
Athan paused, realizing he didn’t have an easy way to explain it.
"It’s a drink that wakes you up. Gives energy."
Kali’s eyes lit up.
"Oh! We try this, yes?"
Athan smirked.
"If it works the way I think, then yes."
By mid-morning, the three of them had finished weeding all ten plots. The sun had begun its slow ascent, casting longer shadows across the fields. Athan stretched his sore muscles, rolling his shoulders to ease the dull ache from crouching for so long.
Despite the tension from the previous night, Kali and Lara had worked well together. They shared quick smiles, exchanged playful jabs, and occasionally flicked small bits of dirt at each other when Athan wasn't looking. Seeing them interact so naturally brought him a sense of relief. Maybe things wouldn't be as complicated as he had feared.
Glancing back at the fields, Athan felt a quiet satisfaction settle in his chest. The morning had been productive. They had cleared the weeds, salvaged the dandelions, and the crops were growing strong. Even though the sky had been unpredictable lately, progress was steady.
He turned toward plot number ten, an idea forming in his mind. But before acting on it, he would need his mother's advice.
Once they were done, however, the girls left Athan behind to flip the batch of sun-baked bricks under Lara's direction. Athan watched them go, feeling a slight tug of relief at having a moment of solitude. Even so, he couldn't help smiling at how naturally Lara and Kali fell into step together, despite last night's friction. Using the quiet interlude, he took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts and mentally mapping out the tasks he needed to tackle next.
Walking toward his mother, the boy was deep in thought.
He had been considering using the last field to grow medicinal herbs.
Rael had been complaining for a while now that her stock of healing plants was dwindling right before her eyes.
With that in mind, he planned to suggest dedicating Field 10 to a variety of herbs—everything from fever reducers to remedies for wounds or stomach aches.
He hoped this idea would help rebuild her inventory and make their daily life a bit less stressful.
Feeling a mix of excitement and nerves, he approached her, ready to share his plan.
"Mother," he began tentatively, "I've been thinking about the shortage of medicinal herbs. What if we used Field 10 to grow the ones you need? That way, we won’t run out so fast."
At first, his mother frowned, her fatigue replaced by uncertainty.
"Hmm... not sure if that work," she admitted, her brow furrowing.
"Maybe seeds not grow. Then we waste time?"
The boy offered a reassuring smile.
"Trying won’t hurt, Mother. Even if it doesn’t work, we won’t lose much. We can still learn from it."
Slowly, her expression brightened.
"Hmmm... yes... you right."
She sighed, rubbing her temple.
"I try get more herbs for so long now, but is hard. If we grow them ourselves, we always have some at home."
Encouraged by her openness to the idea, the boy continued,
"For plants that produce seeds, we can just plant them directly. And for others, I’ve been thinking... we could ask the hunters to bring them back with the roots and a bit of soil. That way, they won’t be damaged, and we can learn how to cultivate them properly."
Rael nodded slowly, considering his words.
"Yes... we look how each one grow."
Then, her eyes suddenly lit up with an idea.
"And I start small book, like you say do. Write down how each herb grow. Then we see which do best. Put my healing knowledge in book. Then clan not lose it."
The boy felt a swell of pride.
"That’s a great idea. It’ll help you keep track of everything you discover, and it will be good writing practice too."
He paused, realizing something.
"I don’t have the writing supplies with me right now, but I can go get the pen, inkwell, and some paper. After that, you can fold the sheets and tie them together with string, like I do. Then you’ll have a real booklet for your notes."
Rael accepted the supplies with shining eyes, running her fingers gently over the paper.
"Thank you, dear."
She smiled warmly, a rare softness in her voice.
"I start soon as we have first seedlings."
Next on his list, Athan went to check on the wall near the door that had been flooded the day before. His father, Wade, was already there, hunched over as he used a wide slab of bark as a makeshift shovel, pushing away thick layers of wet mud that had piled up around the doorway. Rather than carving logs into planks or beams with the others, Wade had decided to handle this issue himself, determined to keep the main entrance clear and protect their growing settlement.
Sweat poured down his cheeks and dripped from his chin, a testament to the strenuous work. He had borrowed Athan's wheelbarrow to transport the heavy mixture of mud and dirt more efficiently. Each time he filled the wheelbarrow, he rolled it to the far side of the wall, carefully dumping the load to reinforce its base. The muffled slosh of mud and earth echoed in the crisp morning air, blending with the distant chatter of workers on the other side of the settlement.
Athan paused for a moment, watching his father's determined efforts. Wade's breathing was ragged, yet his expression never wavered from its look of fierce concentration. Athan couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration at how Wade faced the challenge head-on, prioritizing everyone's safety over less grueling tasks. Even from a short distance, Athan could smell the rich, damp scent of freshly turned earth that clung to the site.
After taking it all in, Athan turned to inspect the cement structures he had created several days earlier. The broad leaves he'd placed on top had served two roles: first, they protected the cement from morning dew, and second, they shielded the curing cement from the heavy rain. Thanks to them, the cement hadn't become oversaturated. With the clouds now gone, Athan carefully peeled each leaf away so the cement could dry fully, doing the same for the base of the new toilet area. He ran his fingertips over the surface, relieved that it remained firm.
Once he was finished, Athan returned to help his father. Taking up a hoe this time, he dug into the slick mud near the doorway, scraping away thick clumps to clear a path. Each movement of the hoe sent small flecks of mud flying onto his feet, but he pressed on, determined to lighten his father's load. As he worked in unison with Wade—one scooping, the other scraping—he noticed a small trickle of leftover water snaking its way along the wall's edge.
That observation reminded him of his idea: installing drainage beneath the wall. On either side of the door—actually, several logs farther along—he envisioned digging channels that would guide runoff water into the surrounding forest rather than letting it accumulate here. He made a mental note to incorporate this design in the next round of cement work, picturing how discreet drains could keep future rainwater away.
Once the task was finally done, father and son nodded at each other, sharing a moment of pride at the day's accomplishment. The sun was dipping low in the sky, painting it with soft oranges and pinks. Athan noticed the warm light catching in his father's sweat-streaked hair, and for a moment, he felt a surge of gratitude for the quiet resilience Wade always showed.
After setting the hoe down near the field, Athan made his way back toward the waterfall. He passed a few workers returning to their shelter, exchanging brief nods of acknowledgment. Arriving at the water's edge, he activated the makeshift watering system he'd put together earlier, letting the gentle streams nourish the crops before nightfall.
While the water flowed, Athan took the chance to wash off the grime from a long day's labor. He could feel the cool rivulets soaking through the sweat on his skin, refreshing him in a way that felt almost luxurious. A short distance away, he spotted his father doing the same, rinsing away the mud caked on his arms.
Once the crops were adequately watered, Athan shut off the system for the night. The sky had already begun to deepen into shades of purple, and tiny specks of light hinted at the stars emerging overhead. With a satisfied sigh, he headed for the fire circle, where he expected to find a well-earned rest.
Upon arriving, he was greeted by the enticing aroma of roasted herbs and simmering stew—Kali and Lara's handiwork. Letting the warmth of the fire wash over him, Athan eased himself down onto a makeshift seat, taking a moment to catch his breath and reflect on the progress they had made in just a single day. Soon enough, he'd share a meal with the people who mattered most, and that was all the reward he needed at that moment.
It seemed that today's main dish was a stew made from yesterday's leftover snake meat, freshly caught fish from the river, and a variety of boiled roots. The savory aroma drifted through the air, tempting everyone to gather around the cooking fire. After carefully chopping the dandelion leaves and flowers into small pieces, the girls had added them to the stew, allowing their subtle bitterness to blend with the rich flavors. After a long day of work, the warm, comforting taste felt especially satisfying—rich with a slight earthiness from the roots and a hint of freshness from the dandelions. Soft murmurs of enjoyment spread among the group as they savored each spoonful, clearly pleased by this hearty meal.
The boy looked around, pleased to see everyone enjoying the meal.
After a short while, Lara and Kali joined him, settling down on either side.
As they ate together, they chatted about the day's events.
"That stew smells amazing," Athan said, taking another bite.
"You used up the leftover snake and some fish, right? It tastes even better than yesterday’s meal."
He glanced at Lara, shifting the conversation.
"So, how did those shelves hold up when you were flipping the bricks earlier? I was worried the weight might be too much, but I used thicker wood and good rope to make them sturdier."
Lara shrugged lightly.
"They worked fine. At first, thought maybe break. But no, hold good."
Kali nodded, adding in.
"Shelves good. We stack lots bricks, no problem. Glad you use strong wood."
Athan sighed in relief, nodding.
"Great. I was concerned about the load. I've seen weaker planks crack when the bricks are still damp. Good to know everything stayed in one piece."
Lara shook her head.
"No cracks. We turn bricks slow. Shelves not move much."
Kali agreed.
"That good. Strong shelves best."
Athan smiled at them both.
"Thanks, Kali. Let’s all keep an eye out for anything that might weaken over time. If you notice bowing or loose joints, let me know, okay?"
Lara nodded.
"Easier fix small problems before big ones."
Kali echoed the thought.
"Yes. Fix fast, no trouble."
Athan glanced between them, his voice genuine.
"I really appreciate your help with the bricks. I’ve been so busy with the fields and the drainage idea that it’s hard to check everything myself."
Lara offered a small smile.
"We don’t mind."
Kali simply nodded, accepting his thanks without words.
After the meal, the camp settled into a quiet rhythm, each person finding something to occupy their hands and minds. The men, having finished carving one comb, moved on to another, their knives slicing through the wood in slow, practiced strokes. The rhythmic scraping blended with the occasional crackle of the fire, filling the air with the rich scent of burning wood and fresh shavings. Conversations were low and steady, their voices wrapping around the camp like a comforting hum.
Athan, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on him, pulled out his notebook. He flipped through the worn pages, stopping at his latest entry—his observations on dandelions. Tonight's stew had included the flowers, giving the broth a thicker consistency. No one had complained, which he took as a good sign. He ran his fingers along the paper's rough surface, considering his next step. The roots were next on his list for testing, but he would need mugs to brew them properly. His gaze wandered toward the men carving combs, their hands deftly shaping the delicate teeth. Once they were finished, perhaps he could suggest wooden mugs as their next task. Some of them had even shown interest in writing, and he intended to guide them as best he could. But the other could continue on that task.
Satisfied, he shut the notebook, tapping his fingers lightly against the cover. He had spent enough time thinking. His hands craved movement, creation. His eyes fell on a medium-sized branch lying among the scattered wood. It was smooth, sturdy—a perfect candidate for the idea forming in his mind. He pulled it closer, gripping it firmly before stripping away the bark with quick, efficient motions. The outer layer peeled away in curls, revealing the pale wood beneath. With his knife, he carefully began hollowing one end, carving out the core bit by bit. The fibers resisted, the work slow and tedious. When the blade could go no further, he flipped the branch and started again from the other side. But still, the wood remained stubborn, unwilling to yield.
Athan exhaled through his nose, rolling the branch between his palms. He needed another method. His gaze shifted to the fire pit. Heat could do what his blade could not. Rising to his feet, he grabbed the tongs and reached into the glowing embers, carefully lifting a small, smoldering coal. He dropped it into the hollowed opening and knelt, leaning in to blow gently. The ember glowed brighter, smoke curling from the edges, the wood darkening as the fire began its slow work. The scent of burning bark filled the air. He repeated the process, coaxing the flame through, watching with satisfaction as a faint orange glow appeared on the other end. Progress.
The night around him had grown quieter. The low murmur of voices had faded, the men stretching their tired limbs, packing away their tools. The firelight flickered over the walls of the camp, throwing long, swaying shadows against the dark earth.
Athan wiped his hands on his pants, brushing away stray bits of wood. He would have to finish tomorrow. He reached for his fur, ready to head back to his parents' shelter, when a firm but familiar tug on his arms stopped him. He turned his head just slightly—Lara on one side, Kali on the other, their grips unyielding.
Neither of them spoke. They didn't need to. He sighed inwardly, knowing there was no arguing against their silent decision.
Oh well. He had tried.
