Bonds in the Wild

The first few days in the wilderness weren't about grand battles or power struggles. They were about sweat, sore muscles, and the rhythmic echo of axes biting into wood.

Serana wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, smearing dirt and sawdust across her pale skin. The humid air clung to her clothes, the scent of fresh pine thick around the clearing. She had underestimated how taxing manual labor would be, but it was necessary.

The camp had started as nothing more than a few tents and makeshift storage piles. Now, it was slowly shaping into something livable.

She glanced around at the workers she had hired—her people.

Toru, a broad-shouldered man with a scar running across his nose, swung his axe in practiced arcs. He was one of the few with real experience in logging, having done similar work back on Mars in controlled forest biomes.

Nia, a lean woman with short, curly black hair, sat on a fallen log, rubbing her calloused hands after a long morning of cutting smaller branches into manageable firewood. Despite her complaints about the workload, she never once slacked off.

Omar, an older player with salt-and-pepper stubble, focused on maintaining the tools. His background in engineering made him invaluable in keeping the saws sharp and the equipment functional.

And then there was little Rin.

Serana watched as the young teenager—a rare sight among beta testers—clumsily tried to haul a bundle of branches toward the fire pit. Her arms shook from the weight, but she stubbornly refused to ask for help.

"Rin, pace yourself," Serana called out.

"I got it!" Rin insisted, staggering forward before the logs nearly toppled onto her.

Toru chuckled, reaching out with one arm to steady the bundle before it crushed her. "You're strong, kid, but don't be stupid about it. This isn't a sprint."

Serana smiled slightly as Rin muttered something about "handling it just fine."

The work was tiring, but something about the repetitive nature of it was… grounding.

She had spent her entire life in a floating palace, her body weak, her world one of calculations and cold strategy. But here, in Solva, her arms ached, her fingers blistered, and for once, she felt truly alive.

The crackling of the fire was a welcome companion as dusk settled over the camp. The day's labor had taken its toll, and everyone sat in a loose circle, resting sore muscles.

Serana stood by the fire pit, stirring a bubbling pot filled with diced vegetables, wild herbs, and the last of their dried meat. Cooking was still new to her, but she had paid attention when Uncle Bai had taught her the basics.

She tasted the broth, frowning. Too bland.

"Rin, pass me the salt," she said.

Rin, sitting cross-legged on the dirt, perked up. "Got it!" She rummaged through their dwindling supplies before tossing a small pouch over.

Serana added a pinch, stirring slowly.

Toru sniffed the air. "Damn. That actually smells good."

"You doubted me?"

"Not really. But let's be honest, the first meal you made was… questionable."

Omar grinned. "She burned rice in a pot full of water."

Serana scowled. "It was an experiment."

"An experiment in disaster."

Despite the teasing, the mood was light. The struggles of the day melted away in the glow of the fire, laughter filling the night air.

Serana scooped steaming portions into wooden bowls, handing them out. The soup was simple, but after a hard day's work, it tasted divine.

As they ate, Nia leaned back, staring at the starry sky. "You ever think about how weird it is? How real this place feels?"

Omar nodded. "More than that. I'm starting to think this place is real."

Serana remained silent, her mind drifting. She had her own suspicions about Solva, but voicing them now wouldn't help.

Instead, she took another sip of soup, letting the warmth settle in her stomach.

They were just survivors trying to carve out something stable. And for now, that was enough.

On the third day, after the camp had grown more structured and their stockpile of logs had increased, Serana decided to head toward the warehouse in town to sell off their extra wood.

That was when she met Maria.

The woman had an air of experience, her worn gloves and practical attire marking her as a worker, not a fighter. She had been overseeing a team of haulers moving goods from the warehouse onto a set of carts when Serana arrived.

"Hey," Maria greeted, glancing at the bundle of logs strapped to Serana's back. "Selling or trading?"

"A bit of both," Serana replied. "I've got cut timber, processed to size. I need better tools and supplies in exchange."

Maria appraised the wood with a critical eye. "Decent quality. You got a way to transport bulk shipments?"

Serana hesitated. "Not exactly."

Maria smirked. "Then you're in luck."

She turned and gestured toward a battered old truck parked nearby. The vehicle looked ancient, its paint faded, but it was still in working condition.

"That yours?" Serana asked, intrigued.

"Not exactly. It belongs to someone I know. But I can hook you up with a deal if you need a ride."

Serana considered it. A truck would change everything—allowing them to haul wood faster, make deliveries, and expand their work.

She extended a hand. "Let's talk."

Maria grinned, shaking it firmly. "Nice to meet you I am Maria"

That night, Serana returned to camp in the truck, the engine's low rumble announcing her arrival.

Her team gathered around, eyes wide.

"You got a truck?" Toru whistled, impressed.

Nia ran a hand over the metal frame. "Okay, I take back every complaint I made about chopping wood. This makes up for it."

The group cheered.

For the first time since arriving in Solva, they weren't just surviving.

They were building something real.