Haiko retreated, her curiosity unsated, and somehow that made him feel just a little bit better about the entire situation. He hadn’t truly expected it to be something malevolent—mischievous, perhaps, had been more in line with his thinking—but having the confirmation that she’d been trying to help them work things was something.

The two discussions with Kalter hadn’t been clean, but getting everything off his chest had felt remarkably good, and now, after he’d managed to mostly sidestep the emotional baggage of it all, he’d been able to see some of her own side. Kalter had been forthright enough about her how she felt; she’d admitted to wanting to kill him at some point—a confession to which his own response had felt far more muted than what he might have first assumed, possibly because it had been buried beneath everything else that had been going on at the time—that was an equal show of honesty, or perhaps even beyond what he’d brought to their first discussion.

Kalter had thought about murdering him out of suspicion, safety concerns, or fear of eventual betrayal, but she no longer felt that way. Either he’d somehow proved himself to some degree she had decided was sufficient to distinguish him out from the outgroup—the entirety of the Gaian race—or she’d rationalized her way through to that conclusion without any action needed on his part; something that Haiko might have helped with, or he may just have been giving her too much credit.

There was a third option, in which Kalter was actually an incredibly talented actor and had to manage to convince him that she was now on his side, while simultaneously, and secretly, still harbouring suspicions—but he wasn’t willing to live his life on that level of paranoia, because the days were already difficult enough just to get through without adding more stress on top of it all.

August remained at the hut, working through the thoughts and watching the four of them work their way through all twelve of the holes, along with seating the uprights after that. By the time they’d manage all of them, he’d finished off three long cords of twine, admittedly nowhere near enough for what they’d eventually need, but in conjunction with the stacks of the vine they’d collected, it would work.

A total success as far as what they’d set out to do for the first stage; only August wondered if he’d really be a part of it all. As far as the workload had gone, he’d dug one hole, half the depth that was required and chopped one log to the right length. Something that would have taken him weeks to accomplish was less than an hour’s work for the four of them, so long as they had the resources ready in front of them and a clear goal.

Boko took a two-step lead and then jumped, catching hold of the upright with his top set of hands. He planted one foot on the side and then kicked off, flinging himself upwards in a burst of effort. The second set of hands touched the top of the post, and then he twisted into place, crouching on top of the nine-foot post—the ridiculous feat of agility stunned him for a moment

August watched the Voithos stand up straight before attempting to wiggle the post from his new perch, but if there was any movement in it, August couldn’t tell from where he was. Rittan called something up to Boko and then stepped away from the post, angling for his own position.

“You really are amazing,” August said once he’d reached him. “All of you.”

“Amazing?” Rittan said, bemused. “I don’t think we’ve done anything quite so deserving of such high praise—how are you feeling, August?”

“Scratches haven’t gone yet, but I think I’m good now,” August said, working his way to his feet. “Sorry I didn’t help you; I figured you wouldn’t want me stealing the spotlight by carrying all the posts by myself.”

Rittan laughed at the bald-faced lie, taking it with good humour.

“Thank you, my friend, you’ve given me a brilliant opportunity to shine,” Rittan said, clearly amused. “I believe we’ve all broken off to rest for the moment, so I wanted to touch base with you about our next step.”

August looked past him to the row of wooden pillars striking up out of the earth—the developing skeleton of what would eventually become the central hub of the Lakeside Hovel.

“The roof and the floor would be the obvious next step; we need protection from the sun and the weather, and if it rains, then we don’t want to be completely on the ground,” August said, nodding, “So we need a bunch of long straight branches to start building up a grid between the posts—we could start by sorting out all the ones we have that would work for that purpose.”

Rittan turned to gauge the distance between the poles; the initial placements August had chosen had been done with this in mind, with all of the gaps being roughly equal distances. He hadn’t really been able to see the full extent of what they’d collected in the forest, given the messy nature of the material, so they’d need to go through it again.

“If we start with tying a beam between each upright, we can judge where to go from there,” Rittan said, nodding. “What did you have in mind for the flooring?”

That was a good question and not one he’d given too much thought to yet. His immediate thought was to place a bunch of logs down, but that would be a significant amount of trees, and it seemed like a waste. He caught sight of the elevated ridge of flat land that surrounded the lake and wondered if they couldn’t just do the same thing—stack up dirt until the floor was a foot or so raised up, more than enough to discourage any lingering water if it rained.