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Chapter 25 - Sharing the Burden
🕑 Added 2025-03-06 22:00:05 +0000 UTCSatisfied with his speech and after listing the benefits of the first house he intended to build for the clan, the boy took a step forward, excitement still gleaming in his eyes. He wanted to explain how they would carve the beams that the construction team was preparing, how each piece would fit together to create a strong and lasting structure. His body betrayed his exhaustion, but his mind remained sharp, eager to continue teaching.
But just as he opened his mouth to continue, a firm hand stopped him. Rael stepped in front of him, her expression resolute. Without a word, she took his hands, examining the raw, irritated skin—evidence of his hard work throughout the day. With skilled hands, she applied the balm she had prepared earlier, massaging his palms with both tenderness and firmness, unfazed by her son's silent protests.
The boy frowned slightly, eager to continue speaking, but one stern look from his mother silenced any attempt at argument. "Enough for today. You go sleep before you tired the men with your ideas."
Athan opened his mouth, hesitated, then let out a resigned sigh, lowering his head. He knew he would not win this battle. With a mix of frustration and acceptance, he turned and walked toward his bedding under the amused and admiring gazes of the clan members. Behind him, several men continued to examine the miniature house he had created, murmuring among themselves as they tried to understand how he had managed to interlock the wooden pieces with such precision.
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As the boy's speech came to an end, Rael, his mother, approached him. She had already prepared a balm before the meal, waiting for the evening's activities to conclude before applying it to his hands. Now, with practiced care, she spread the soothing mixture over the raw skin, ignoring the hushed murmurs that once again rippled through the gathering. Several men stood nearby, their curiosity evident as they observed the miniature house the boy had assembled. They recognized the same carving techniques he had taught them for their combs—now adapted to something far more intricate and ambitious.
Once the mixture was applied and secured with leaves, she sent her son off to bed before he could stir up yet another wave of excitement for the evening. As she turned, her gaze immediately caught sight of Kali, one of the new arrival. The girl's eyes were locked onto the boy, sharp and focused—almost predatory, as if she had found her prey.
Rael sighed inwardly. It seemed that Lara had just gained a competitor.
Of course, within their tribe, it was common for a man to have multiple women. The imbalance of men and women often dictated such arrangements; in some clans, the reverse was true, and women could have multiple mates. However, the complexities of affection and relationships remained unchanged, regardless of the direction they took.
Observing the situation carefully, Rael knew she would have to speak with both Lara and Kali. She needed to ensure that the new girl understood what would be expected of Athan in the future—just as she had once explained it to Lara. Balance and harmony within the group depended on it.
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The next morning, the boy was shaken awake by his father, Wade. The sun had barely risen, yet the world outside remained dim, cloaked in an ominous gray. Thick clouds stretched across the sky, their heavy presence making the air feel dense and suffocating. The scent of moisture clung to the wind, a silent warning of what was to come.
Wade stood over him, his gaze sharp, fixed on the restless sky. His voice was urgent, his grip firm as he shook the boy more insistently. "Today, rain. Soon."
The words jolted Athan fully awake, his heart pounding as his mind snapped to attention. Rain—this was a problem. A big problem.
He pushed aside the fur covering him and sat up, his gaze flicking toward the open sky. For the construction of the wall, they had cut down nearly all the trees inside the camp, leaving only a thin strip of vegetation along the river untouched. The towering trees that once provided natural shelter were gone, replaced by open, vulnerable space. Without the protective canopy, they could no longer take cover beneath the surrounding trees while still remaining within the safety of the walls. Now, the open ground would soon become thick, clinging mud, making movement difficult and halting their progress.
His mind immediately sorted the priorities, from the most urgent to the least. The first task was to build shelters for the people, ensuring they had protection from the incoming rain. Next, he had to create a shelter for the fire, preventing it from being extinguished and leaving them without warmth or cooked food. A trench needed to be dug by the pathway of the fields to prevent flooding them, protecting the crops from being washed away.
Then came the task of gathering all tools and bringing them to safety before they were soaked. Firewood had to be moved under cover, ensuring they had dry material to burn in the coming days. The two cement structures required additional foliage coverage to prevent water damage. The bricks, still drying, had to be moved somewhere secure, and lastly, the fish trap needed to be retrieved before the river swelled and carried it away.
Too much to do. Too little time.
Athan exhaled sharply, pushing himself to his feet. They had to move—now.
He thought quickly. First they would need shelters to withstand the downpour. Fortunately, the campfire area sat on a slight incline, meaning the water would naturally drain away instead of pooling there. His gaze shifted to the pile of branches that had been cut from the tree trunks during construction. A decision formed in his mind.
They would build temporary shelters. If he could make them large enough for each family, they would only need nine in total—manageable for a group of over twenty people working together. The materials were there, and with quick coordination, they could have them up before the worst of the rain arrived.
Athan's mind raced with the best design—simple structures that could be assembled quickly but still withstand the heavy rain. They would need strong supports, slanted coverings to allow water runoff, and enough spacing between them to prevent overcrowding. There was no time for perfection, only function. They had to move fast.
Calling everyone together, the boy quickly assigned tasks, his voice firm and urgent. He instructed the group of women to gather as many large leaves as possible—the same kind they normally used for bedding. These would serve as the primary covering for the shelters, helping to repel the rain and provide insulation.
Next, he led the men toward the pile of branches that had been set aside during the wall construction. Stopping in front of the scattered wood, Athan raised his voice so everyone could hear. "We need strong branches! Y-shaped ones for support, long straight ones for the frame. Check them—make sure they don't bend too easily. If they're weak, they'll break under the rain."
One of the men picked up a branch and tested its strength. "Like this?"
Athan walked over, pressing his palm against the wood, feeling its firmness. He nodded. "Yes. This will work. Collect as many as you can. We don't have much time."
Another man hesitated. "How we tie them together?"
"We have plenty of rope from Nat and her team. Use that instead of vines," Athan corrected, grabbing a length of sturdy rope and looping it around two branches. He pulled it tight, demonstrating its superior hold. "Make sure it's secure. If the rain is strong, weak ties will collapse the shelters."
The men exchanged glances before nodding in understanding. They quickly split into small groups, gathering branches and testing their strength before adding them to the growing pile.
Athan exhaled sharply, watching them move. Despite the pressure, no one hesitated. They trusted him. Now, they just needed to move fast enough.
The men quickly got to work, breaking into small groups, their hands moving efficiently as they gathered and sorted through the branches. Despite the urgency, there was no hesitation—everyone trusted the boy's guidance. He had led them this far, and they knew his ideas worked.
Meanwhile, the boy sprinted toward the fields, urgency pushing his legs forward. As he ran, he ripped off the leaf bandages covering his hands—he couldn't afford them getting in the way while using the hoe. The sudden exposure stung, but he ignored it, his focus entirely on the task ahead.
He had no way of knowing how much rain would fall, but he couldn't risk the crops drowning. Grabbing a hoe, he worked quickly, his raw hands gripping the tool tightly despite the discomfort. He dug a small trench along the pathways, ensuring that any excess water pooling in the pathways would have a clear route to drain toward the river. His strokes were firm, his movements relentless as he deepened the channel, making sure it was wide enough to handle heavy rainfall. If the rain came down hard, the trench would divert the water away, preventing it from flooding the fields and drowning their precious crops. The boy worked quickly, sweat mixing with the dirt on his skin, fully aware that every second counted.
The soil was already damp from the humidity in the air, making his task slightly easier, but time was against him. The thick clouds overhead darkened, a silent warning of the storm's impending arrival. Athan's hands tightened around the hoe, fresh pain igniting across his palms. He pushed through it—he needed to finish before the first drops fell.
Returning to the men twenty minutes later, the boy immediately set to work sharpening the ends of the Y-shaped branches. The straight ends would be driven into the ground to serve as supports. Seeing this, Ok joined him, helping to speed up the process.
Once they had finished preparing two of the supports, Athan called for his father. "Take these and follow me to the camp," he instructed. Wade carried them over, and upon arriving, Athan directed him to use the wooden hammer to firmly drive them into the ground, ensuring they stood upright and stable.
With the supports in place, they took a long, sturdy branch and rested it horizontally across the Y-shaped supports, forming the main beam of the structure. Athan then selected several long branches and leaned them against the horizontal beam at a 45-degree angle, creating the framework for the sloped roof.
Once enough branches had been positioned, Athan stepped back to inspect their work. It wasn't perfect, but it would hold against the rain. He turned to the others. "Do the same again. We need enough shelters for everyone."
Without hesitation, the men split into groups, repeating the process with the remaining materials. The shelter-building had begun, and with the storm approaching, every second counted.
By the time he had finished, Athan realized he needed to gather more rocks. Without wasting a moment, he set off again, knowing that the shelters had to be reinforced properly. The entire clan worked together, making the construction of the temporary shelters swift and efficient.
Finally, Athan turned to the others and gave another instruction. "We need one more shelter—over the fire pit. If the rain comes down too hard, we can't let it drown the fire."
He quickly outlined the plan, explaining that the structure needed to be high enough to allow the smoke to escape but sturdy enough to resist strong winds. The same method they had used for the shelters would be applied here, with reinforced branches and a thick layering of leaves to keep the fire dry.
The group immediately got to work, gathering materials and constructing the protective cover over the fire, ensuring that even if the storm came, they would still have warmth and a place to cook their food if they could.
Several people, having completed their tasks, began moving their belongings—furs, tools, and bedding—under the shelters, their voices blending with the rustling of leaves and the crackling of fresh-cut wood. Some carried their possessions hastily, while others took their time, arranging their spaces with care.
Lara, having claimed a shelter for herself, had even stacked firewood in neat bundles inside, ensuring it would stay dry for later use. She had also lined the interior with extra leaf and her fur, creating a space that, though simple, promised warmth and comfort during the coming storm.
As the last leaves were being carefully placed onto the coverings for the fire, a cool gust of wind swept through the camp, sending a shiver down a few spines. The first heavy drops of rain splattered onto the packed earth, darkening it instantly. The soft patter quickly escalated into a steady rhythm, drumming against the shelters' leafy roofs. A few sharp cracks of thunder rumbled in the distance, warning of the storm's full arrival.
More people hurried to take refuge, ducking beneath the low entrances of the makeshift shelters, their shoulders hunched against the downpour. Some carried extra wood or secured the edges of their coverings with stones, determined to keep the wind from lifting them away. A few tools—a stone knife, Athan wooden mallet, and some half-finished carvings—were forgotten outside in the rush, glistening as raindrops beaded on their surfaces.
The most important items, however—the furs, bedding, food supplies, Athan's notebooks, and his carefully drawn plans, detailing the future expansion of the camp—had been safely stowed away, shielded from the elements.
The camp, once alive with the rhythmic sounds of hammering and the chatter of voices, now grew eerily quiet, save for the whisper of rain and the occasional murmur of conversation within the shelters. The scent of wet earth mixed with the faint smoke of coming from the fire, trapped under the protective coverings. Everyone settled in, watching the storm from the shadows of their shelters, waiting for the clouds to pass and for the sun to soon resume.
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It had been a day and a half, and the rain showed no signs of stopping. The shelters they had built were holding up surprisingly well, keeping them dry for the most part, but the ceaseless downpour had begun to wear on everyone's patience.
At first, there had been a sense of relief—gratitude that most of their possessions had been saved from the rain. Many had even taken the opportunity to practice carving and writing, using the time indoors to hone their skills. However, as the hours dragged on, restlessness set in. The constant sound of raindrops against the leaves and the damp chill in the air made it impossible to feel truly comfortable. The group found themselves watching the sky, silently willing the storm to pass.
Athan spent part of his time carving small wooden objects, shaping them carefully with his knife as a way to pass the time and refine his precision. The rhythmic motion of carving helped him focus, his hands working instinctively while his thoughts drifted elsewhere. When he grew tired of sitting still, he picked up his slingshot and took aim at trees that had not been cut down—ones he intended to keep, though they offered little protection against the elements. Each shot served to practice his aim, refining his ability to hit small, distant targets with precision. The repeated action became almost meditative, a small way to train his focus while letting his mind settle amidst the restless atmosphere.
Lara continued to feed dry wood to the fire, carefully selecting the driest logs she had stored beforehand. Each time she ventured out, she tried to avoid getting too wet, though it was nearly impossible. The rain was relentless, soaking the ground and making every movement a battle against the slick, muddy terrain. Still, she persisted, ensuring that at least the fire remained lit, a small comfort in the midst of the dreary weather.
They hadn't been able to cook the night before, and likely wouldn't be able to tonight either. The fire was too weak for anything more than light, and the rainwater dripping from the edges of the shelters made it difficult to keep anything dry. Fortunately, they had the smoked meat they had prepared in the days before, rationing it carefully to make it last. It wasn't ideal, but it was enough.
Despite their efforts, the rain continued to pour, and with each passing hour, the hope for clear skies dwindled. The humidity had drastically increased, making everything feel damp and heavy. The air itself seemed to cling to their skin, a cold, suffocating weight pressing down on them. The sensation of chill had grown sharper, creeping into their bones despite the fire that still smoldered weakly under its protective covering. Every breath carried the scent of wet earth, moss, and smoke, mingling in a way that made the camp feel almost otherworldly under the endless rain. Almost everyone in the group shared their space, huddling together to preserve body heat. Despite this, Athan couldn't help but notice Lara.
She was the only one alone, the only one braving the elements to keep the fire going. Each time she emerged from her shelter going near the fire where they could see because of the light, he could see the exhaustion etched on her face. The last time she had moved toward the fire, she had barely been able to hide her shivering.
Athan couldn't ignore it any longer.
Grabbing a large leaf, he held it above his head as a makeshift umbrella and made his way toward Lara's shelter. The leaf barely covered his small frame, but it was better than nothing. The rain was relentless, the air thick with dampness and cold.
When he arrived, he found her curled up, trembling beneath her fur, her body drawn in tightly as if trying to shield itself from the biting cold. Her skin was pale, her lips slightly blue, and her fingers clutched the fur with weak, unsteady movements. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise as he stepped inside, but she said nothing—too cold to speak.
He knew immediately—if he didn't act now, she would fall seriously ill. The cold had already sunk too deep into her body.
Without a word, Athan started making trips to the fire, gathering enough wood to keep it burning for a while. The rain soaked him with each trip, but he ignored the discomfort, moving as quickly as possible while still holding the large leaf over himself. Every time he returned, he glanced at Lara—her trembling was getting worse.
Once the fire was secured, he ran toward his parents' shelter, retrieving his own fur. His parents looked at him in confusion, but he simply said, "I'm going to stay with Lara. She's alone."
His mother's brows furrowed, and his father opened his mouth to question him, but Athan was already turning away. There was no time to explain.
When he returned to Lara's shelter, she was barely responsive. Her shivering had become erratic, her body almost limp. Athan knelt beside her and lifted her fur slightly, feeling the dampness—it was soaked through, offering no warmth, only trapping the cold against her skin.
He exhaled sharply. There was no other choice.
"Take off your clothes," he said firmly.
Lara barely reacted at first, her sluggish mind struggling to process his words. When she did leaving only pseudo underwear, her cheeks flushed faintly, but even embarrassment couldn't push through the exhaustion and cold weighing her down.
Athan handed her his dry fur and turned his back, giving her as much privacy as he could in the cramped space. He heard her shifting slowly, weakly, taking far too long. When she finally whispered a hoarse "done," he turned back to find her clutching his fur tightly around her small frame, her shoulders hunched and trembling.
Without hesitation, Athan stripped off his own wet clothes, leaving only his underwear, and slid under the fur beside her. The moment his body pressed against hers, he winced—she was like ice. The cold was radiating from her skin as if it had seeped into her very bones.
Gritting his teeth, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him. Her violent shivering made it difficult to hold her still, but he refused to let go. Her breath was shallow, her body stiff, her skin ice-cold against his own. He could feel the faint tremors coursing through her frame, her body fighting to regain warmth. Desperate to help, he tucked her hands between their bodies, letting his own heat transfer to her frozen fingers. The sound of her breath was ragged, uneven, as if even that small effort took too much from her. He held her tighter, whispering, "Stay awake. Just focus on breathing."
"Breathe," he muttered softly, pressing his forehead against hers. "Just focus on breathing."
She let out a shaky breath, barely nodding. Slowly, as the minutes dragged on, the warmth from his body seeped into her frozen form. Her shivers, though still present, began to lose their sharp edge. Her muscles, tense from the cold, started to loosen slightly.
Then, almost instinctively, Lara shifted, pressing herself closer, her hands gripping onto him as if seeking the warmth she had lost. Athan stilled but didn't pull away.
Nothing else mattered right now.
Only keeping her warm.
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After about an hour, warmth had finally returned to her body. Lara felt better, but as time passed, a different kind of heat crept over her, a feverish sensation washing through her limbs. Her body was exhausted, yet her mind was more alert than she wished it to be. The situation between her and Athan had never felt more uncomfortable—or more intimate.
And yet, despite her unease, she couldn't bring herself to pull away from him. His warmth was too tempting, too necessary. Her body still remembered the unbearable cold that had sunk into her bones, and even the thought of losing the heat he provided sent a shudder through her.
The cold had claimed her gradually over the hours she spent tending to the fire. Each time she stepped out into the rain, she had been soaked a little more, her furs/clothes absorbing the moisture until they could no longer keep her warm. She had tried to shake off the cold, had curled up tightly in her damp fur/bedding, trying in vain to preserve what little warmth she had left. But it had been futile.
She had barely registered Athan's presence at first, seeing him appear, watching him step in and out of the shelter as he gathered wood and kept the fire alive. He had come back multiple times before finally appearing with his own dry fur in hand. He had looked at her, assessed her condition, and then, without hesitation, told her to remove her clothes.
She had barely been able to comply with hesitation, her fingers numb and clumsy, her movements sluggish. She had fumbled with her soaked garments, the cold making even the simplest action difficult. When she had finally wrapped herself in the dry fur he handed her, she had barely managed to huddle into it before she saw him remove his own clothes and slip in beside her.
Her mind froze.
And then, she had felt him wrap his arms around her, pressing her against him, sharing his heat. He didn't move, didn't say anything, simply holding her and letting his warmth seep into her frozen skin, staying there for the past hour.
Now, the heat between them had become almost overwhelming. Not only from their bodies growing warm, but from their position, from the way he held her close. Lara could feel her face burning hotter than it should have, her thoughts a tangled mess of gratitude, embarrassment, and something she couldn't quite define.
She swallowed hard, squeezing her eyes shut, willing herself to focus only on the warmth. Only on the fact that she wasn't freezing anymore.
That was all that mattered. Right?
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Once Athan was sure that Lara had regained enough warmth, he let out a quiet sigh and shifted his body beside her. The situation was still awkward, the lingering warmth between them a silent reminder of what had just happened. But at least he hadn't lost her to the cold. That was what mattered.
The rain was still falling heavily outside, its steady rhythm a reminder that they were far from done with the storm. He glanced at their soaked clothing and fur/bedding, knowing they wouldn't be usable for some time. Moving carefully in sitting position, he gathered them up and placed them over some nearby branches from the dry wood the girl had accumulated inside her shelter, hoping that after a few hours, they would at least be less damp.
Raising his voice, he called out to the others. "Is everyone still alright?"
Scattered responses came from the surrounding shelters, voices muffled by the rainfall but clear enough to assure him that no one else was in immediate danger. Satisfied, he turned his attention back to the fire.
"We need to keep the fire going," he said loudly, glancing at Lara before looking toward the others. "But from now on, we'll take turns. One person at a time will go out to add wood. That way, no one gets completely soaked. We'll share the burden."
There were murmurs of agreement from the group, and slowly, the plan was put into motion. One at a time, people emerged from their shelters each hour, hurrying through the rain to add a few logs before retreating. It was a small adjustment, but it made a difference. No longer was one person alone against the cold, carrying the weight of survival in silence.
Athan sighed, exhaustion creeping into his limbs. Without thinking, he let himself fall back onto Lara's bedding. He turned his head, meeting her gaze directly, his expression serious.
"Never do this again."
Lara blinked, startled by the sudden shift in his tone.
"I know you want to help me and the tribe. I know you don't want to be a burden. But when you need help—when it's this bad—you ask for it. It's important. I don't want to lose you. No one in the tribe does."
His voice was firm, the weight of his words heavy despite his exhaustion. He was speaking like a leader, like someone far older than his years, for once allowing the real him—the adult within him—to be seen. The sincerity in his eyes made it impossible to argue, and for a moment, Lara simply stared at him, unsure of how to respond.
A lump formed in her throat, the warmth of his words settling into her in a way she hadn't expected. She had always wanted to be strong, to prove she could stand on her own, but at that moment, she realized she had been reckless. She had nearly lost herself to the cold, and it had been Athan who had noticed, Athan who had saved her.
She swallowed hard, her fingers tightening slightly around the fur wrapped around her. "I'm sorry…" she murmured, her voice barely audible over the rain. The words felt strange on her tongue, heavy with unspoken emotion.
Athan's expression softened, and before she could say anything else, he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her in a brief but firm embrace. She stiffened at first, unused to such direct contact, but after a second, she found herself sinking into it, her cold body instinctively drawn to his warmth. It wasn't just physical—there was something grounding about his presence, something that made her feel safe.
"Just don't do it again. You matter to me," he said, his voice quieter now, laced with exhaustion. He pulled away slightly and, with a soft sigh, patted her head—a small, reassuring gesture that sent an unfamiliar warmth curling in her chest.
Lara bit her lip, nodding as she nestled closer to him. She wouldn't forget this moment.
Outside, the rain continued to fall, but inside their small shelter, warmth remained—not just from their bodies, but from something unspoken that lingered between them.
