“How about we dig a few more holes away from the camp and bring the dirt back with us,” August said, frowning. “We could dump all of it between the pillars and make ourselves a raised floor out of compacted dirt. Alternatively, we could try and do a bamboo run and use that as flooring—it’s probably significantly less exhausting cutting down a hundred bamboo shoots than a hundred trees.”

Rittan raised an eyebrow at the idea, seemingly considering it.

“Could we use bamboo to make the ceiling?” Rittan asked, “It would require far less effort than carving the oddly shaped branches down to the right kind of shape.”

Bamboo would make a better skeleton for the roof overall, long, lightweight, durable and uniform in shape.

“You’re right; that might be the best idea overall,” August said, nodding. “It does mean we’re going to need to go on another expedition—which means we’ll either have to go through the forest or head west along the lakeshore and walk around it all.”

It was already about midday now, and a trip of that length would have them trekking back in the dark, which was something he absolutely wanted to avoid at any and all costs. That meant they’d have to set that trip to tomorrow morning at the earliest, and if they all went together, they would be sacrificing most of a day’s work for the trip.

Cutting down bamboo was probably a hell of a lot less strenuous than chopping down a tree, but he’d need at least one of the Voithos to come with him If they were going to collect enough for the roof—and he was pretty much required to go because he was the only person with an inventory.

“Rittan,” August said, biting his thumbnail. “I’ll make a trip to the bamboo forest tomorrow morning—I’ll need one of you to help me because I don’t think I can cut down that much on my own.”

“Shouldn’t we go as a group?” Rittan said, hesitant. “Today’s trip went well—your own injuries notwithstanding.”

“It’s probably about two hours from here at a walking pace? That means a four-hour round trip, not including however long we spend collecting bamboo,” August said, shaking his head. “We only really need one of you guys to make this worthwhile, and if we all go, we’ll be wasting an entire day’s worth of progress on our—everything, I guess—there are a dozen different things we could be doing in that time.”

“I—think I understand,” Rittan said, still visibly concerned. “Did you have someone in mind to come with you?”

“I’m up for taking anyone who volunteers, but we should probably vote on this as a group since it involves more than just me,” August said, rubbing at his neck. “I’ll be taking Ladybug with me either way, so whoever goes will have some protection from other monsters—if you want to tell everyone about it, we can vote on whether or not it’s happening at dinner.”

“Very well,” Rittan said, “August if I speak to Neptune, do you think he will assist me in hunting something from the lake?”

“I think so; you should just be able to tell him what you want, but if you’re having any trouble, just come get me again,” August said, nodding. “Ladybug? Can you go with Rittan and help him and Neptune catch something to eat?”

Ladybug trilled out an affirmative, hopping past Morningstar to land at Rittan’s feet.

“Thank you—and you as well, Miss Ladybug,” Rittan said, smiling.

“If you’re taking care of the food, I’ll get the fires ready again,” August said, turning to investigate them. “Hopefully, once we get the roof up, we can spread out a bit more and make a more permanent firepit—these little ones are kind of annoying to keep remaking all the time; they just burn out way too quickly.”

“Yes, I believe that’s come up in discussion before,” Rittan said, nodding. “I will return—hopefully successful.”

“Good luck, man,” August said, waving him off.

August stretched a bit to work out the ache in his neck before ducking down and taking a knee just inside the front of the first hut. Rittan’s sudden desire to go hunting now, while there were still a few hours of daylight left, was probably a product of him trying to take care of the task before August himself had the chance.

He rebuilt the small fire with practised hands, using some of the kindling he’d had stashed away in his inventory—a task that only took a few minutes before he’d repeated it with the second one. Rather than sit around for any longer and waste the remaining daylight, he set off to a space between the furthermost pillar and the tree line.

August removed the [Wooden Shovel] and went to work marking out an area to use as a garden bed. The tiny garden that his mother had in the backyard when he was only little was the only real experience he had with the idea, other than the public gardens that had been spread out across the city.

Both had been the same kind of setup, with a long rectangle of soil raised above the ground and encased by a foot-tall barrier—cheap planks of wood in his mother’s case, concrete lined with black sheets of thick plastic in the other.

Given there were three different plants involved, and he had no idea if they could be grown in the same box—the onion and the garlic plants probably could, considering how they’d been right next to one another—he marked out three different areas because keeping them separate was probably a better idea in the long run.

The three Regalis plants were far bigger than everything else; their root system had been shallow, spreading out horizontally rather than downwards, so he used those to dictate the width of each box in order to keep them in something approaching a uniform size. He took out four branches and dropped them into place on the lines he’d marked out.

None of them was the right length, so he was forced to go and fetch one of the new axes from the chopping block. He pinned one of the branches to the ground with his foot and then began the task of cutting it down to the right size. The branch wasn’t nearly as resilient as the log had been, although the [Bone Axe] itself was a far more effective cutting tool overall than the flint one had ever been.

He cut all the way through in a couple of minutes before spinning it around and starting work on cutting off the other end. It was a mindless task, but watching his own progress at cutting through it was oddly satisfying. August turned the thick, stubby branch up onto its end and attempted to even out the side that was bugling out by striking down at a shallow angle, splintering off some of the material.

Once he was happy with the shape, he rolled it over onto the line he’d marked out, padding some dirt down around the edges to make sure it was stuck in place before standing up and rubbing at his neck.

“One down, only eleven to go,” August said, trying to stay positive about the whole thing. “God dammit.”