Chapter 14 - Foundations of Progress
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Athan woke up feeling well-rested, unaware of the conversation that had taken place the night before between Rael and Lara. Stretching his arms, he shook off the last remnants of sleep before stepping out of his bedding. The cool morning air brushed against his skin as he made his way toward the basin at the base of the waterfall.
Kneeling by the water's edge, he cupped his hands and splashed the icy water onto his face, the sudden chill jolting him fully awake. He took a deep breath, inhaling the crisp, earthy scent of the damp ground before straightening up and turning his gaze toward the fields.
Walking over, he inspected the soil, pressing his fingers into the earth. The moisture was sufficient, meaning he wouldn't need to run the watering system this morning. However, as his eyes trailed along the stone pathways, he noticed the mud had crept higher than expected, partially covering some of the stones. If left unchecked, it could make walking difficult and cause unnecessary mess when tending to the crops.
Deciding on his first task for the day, Athan set his sights on the rocky area near the cliffside. That section contained plenty of stones suitable for reinforcing the pathways. Without delay, he moved toward the cliff, ready to gather enough stones to fortify the walkways and keep the field accessible despite the moisture in the soil.
The boy worked on that for about an hour before stopping in his tracks. These constant trips back and forth were far too inefficient. If he continued like this, he would be exhausted before the day's end. There had to be a better way.
Taking a thoughtful look at the wood that had yet to be used, he made his decision. Stopping what he was doing, he selected several branches, cutting them into stake-like shapes. Then, he asked his father to push a well-sized log toward the fields for him. Once positioned, Athan carefully wedged stones against the sides to prevent the log from rolling or shifting. Satisfied, he borrowed Ok's bow drill and began working.
He meticulously drilled holes along the length of the log, ensuring each was deep enough to hold the carved stakes. One by one, he inserted the pointed ends of the stakes into the holes, securing them with a few solid strikes from his wooden mallet. He worked his way up the log, hammering each stake firmly into place before moving back down, repeating the process. The sound of the mallet echoed in the air, punctuated only by the occasional creak of straining wood.
Then, after several more strikes—CRACK!
The log finally split in two, the tension giving way with a sharp snap. Athan examined the separated halves, aligning them neatly. Without wasting time, he repeated the same method, slowly but surely splitting the wood further into planks. They were far from perfectly straight, but they would still serve their purpose well enough.
Leaving the planks where they were for now, he turned to his next task. He needed a proper tool for himself. Using the same method he had previously shown the adults, he set about crafting a small hatchet for personal use. With the right tool in hand, his work would become much easier.
After a while, the hatchet was finally in his hands. Returning to his roughly cut planks, he began calculating the dimensions he needed. Using the middle sections of the wood, he traced precise lines with his knife, marking the areas he would cut. Once satisfied with his measurements, he took his hatchet and carefully began slicing through the wood, ensuring each cut followed the traced lines as accurately as possible.
Finishing his first plank, he quickly replicated it, producing a second piece with the exact same dimensions. Afterward, he crafted two additional planks, slightly different in size, that would help form the sides of the structure he had in mind—a simple box.
Since he didn't have nails, he relied on the same technique he had used for making his wooden hammer. He carved small protrusions along the edges of the planks and carefully measured and cut matching holes into the adjoining pieces. With careful precision, he inserted the interlocking sections into each other, ensuring a snug fit. Once in place, he took another small piece of wood and wedged it tightly between the joints, locking them securely together.
The end result wasn't perfect, but it was sturdy enough for his intended purpose. Looking at his work, Athan allowed himself a moment of satisfaction before moving on to the next step of his project.
Continuing, he cut a rectangular wooden board slightly larger than the dimensions of the box he had just built. He smoothed out the rough edges with his knife, ensuring a better fit before proceeding. Using his bow drill, he carefully drilled holes along the surface of the board and into the edges of the box, taking extra time to align them precisely. Once the holes were prepared, he inserted wooden pegs, securing them tightly with firm taps from his wooden mallet to ensure everything held in place.
Next, he focused on the handles. He selected two long, sturdy wooden pieces, carving them carefully to remove any rough bark and shaping them to provide a comfortable grip. In the middle of each handle, he carved small protrusions that would lock into the underside of the box. He then drilled corresponding holes at the bottom of the box, making sure the measurements aligned. With careful effort, he slid the handles into place, fitting the protrusions snugly into the holes before locking them with wooden wedges to prevent any movement.
To further reinforce the structure, he decided to add legs beneath the box for stability. He cut two short, thick pieces of wood and secured them using the same interlocking method, hammering them into place with wooden pegs. With the base now sturdy, he moved on to the final, most important component—mobility.
At the end of the handles, he inserted a thick wooden rod, locking it firmly in place before drilling small holes through the sides for additional reinforcement. Then, he set his sights on the most challenging piece—the wheel.
Carving a wheel required patience and precision. He selected a thick, round section of wood and began shaving it down gradually, ensuring an even shape. He continuously tested its balance, adjusting where necessary, until it could roll smoothly without wobbling. Knowing the importance of strength, he reinforced the wheel's center with a wooden stud, securing it tightly. Once he was satisfied, he carefully drilled a hole through its middle and aligned it with the rod at the front of the handles.
Sliding the wheel onto the rod, he secured it in place with another peg, hammering it just enough to allow smooth rotation without excessive movement. He stepped back, rolling the newly built structure slightly to test its function. The wheel turned as intended, supporting the weight of the box efficiently.
With that final touch, his creation was complete. He wiped the sweat from his brow, his fingers tracing the wood as he inspected every part.
Athan had just built the first wheelbarrow, a tool that would forever change how they transported heavy loads in the village. Proud of his accomplishment, he lifted his gaze from his creation, only to realize that the sun was already setting. A wave of surprise washed over him—he had spent the entire day working on this one invention, completely neglecting his other tasks.
A sense of unease settled in his chest. While the wheelbarrow was an important step forward, had he wasted an entire day on a single idea? Shaking off his frustration, he decided to check on the fields. As he approached, he ran his fingers through the soil, frowning slightly at its dryness. It was time to activate the watering system.
Making his way to the system's control point, he worked quickly, redirecting the water flow to the fields. He took the opportunity to wash his hands in the cool stream, rubbing the dirt and wood shavings from his fingers. As the pathways moistened and the water seeped into the soil, he watched in silence, ensuring the system functioned properly before shutting it off for the night.
Despite the lingering doubt over his use of the day, he knew that tomorrow, the wheelbarrow would prove its worth. The boy placed his tools inside the wheelbarrow, leaving it near the fields before making his way back toward the fire, where Lara would soon announce the meal. He sat down on the ground, absentmindedly repeating in his head the tasks he needed to complete the next day.
As he watched the returning clan members, he noticed how animated their conversations had become. They spoke in small groups, sharing stories of the day—unexpected moments, difficult tasks, and accomplishments. The village had changed since they arrived. Athan remembered the first years of his life when each night was filled with silence, when everyone feared making too much noise in case they attracted predators. He recalled the hunger-filled days when they had found nothing to eat or had been forced to abandon everything to flee from danger. Those days felt like a distant past compared to now.
The contrast was striking—like night and day. Seeing the clan thriving in this new life brought him a sense of satisfaction. He smiled as he observed them, feeling a quiet happiness settle within him. His earlier frustration about losing a day's work faded away.
Lara's voice rang out, calling everyone to eat. Athan stood and joined the line, waiting for his turn. When Lara handed him his bowl, she gave him a bright, unexpected smile. Caught off guard, the boy blinked in surprise, momentarily blinded by the sudden warmth of her expression.
Unsure how to react, he offered a quick, awkward smile in return, feeling a bit uneasy at the sudden shift in her attitude. Lara's expression remained warm, her eyes lingering on him for a moment longer than usual before she turned back to serve the next person in line. He hesitated, gripping the bowl tightly as he muttered a quiet thank you, noting how the rich aroma of the stew filled his senses.
Still confused, he slowly stepped away, glancing back at her briefly, half-expecting another glance or reaction. But she had already moved on, focused on her task. Retreating to a spot near the fire, he sat down with a small frown, stirring his stew absentmindedly. The unexpected change unsettled him. He replayed the moment in his head, trying to make sense of it. Had he done something different? Had she?
Taking a bite, he let the warmth of the food settle in, yet his thoughts remained clouded. His gaze flickered toward Lara once more, but she was busy serving others, her expression unreadable. He tried to recall every detail of their interaction—had she always smiled at him like that? No, she had always been reserved, avoiding his eyes, keeping her distance. But today, she had been different.
He stirred his stew absently, his mind racing through possibilities. Had something happened while he was working? Had she spoken to someone about him? Or had he done something that had unknowingly changed the way she saw him? The uncertainty gnawed at him, leaving him unsettled in a way he couldn't quite place.
Glancing around the fire, he noticed that no one else seemed to pay it any mind. The clan continued their conversations as usual, laughing, eating, and sharing stories about their day. Whatever shift had occurred between him and Lara, it was something only he had noticed.
He exhaled softly, pushing his thoughts aside for the moment. He would figure it out eventually. For now, all he could do was wait and see if this change would last—or if it had even meant anything at all.
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Lara had spent much of the night and the following day reflecting on her conversation with Rael. Until now, she had never felt any particular interest in the men of the tribe. None of them had ever stood out to her. They were strong, capable hunters, but they all followed the same patterns, lived the same way, and made the same choices as those before them. Their actions were predictable, their ambitions small, confined to survival. None had ever caught her attention—until Athan.
He was different. He didn't just survive; he changed things. He saw problems where others saw the way things had always been, and then he created solutions no one else had considered. He questioned things that others accepted without thought. That made him stand apart from the rest. That made her watch him.
But there was a problem. Athan was not yet a man. He was still growing, still learning. And though he was young, there was no doubt in her mind that he would one day lead. Rael's words from the night before echoed in her mind: Athan does not think of women. He thinks of the tribe.
A leader's path was dangerous. Those who stood at the front always risked the most. She had seen it before—men who led were often the first to fall. That was why she had never considered choosing a mate before. Any man worth following was also a man doomed to hardship. But when she thought of Athan, something was different. She felt drawn to him, not just because of his mind, but because of what he represented—a future that could be different.
Athan was not reckless. He was not like the other men who rushed into danger with nothing but their strength and instincts. He was careful. He planned. He found ways to make things safer, more efficient, more lasting. And in doing so, he was changing not only how they lived, but what was possible for their future. Perhaps, just perhaps, his changes could shift the path that all leaders before him had walked.
She thought about what that meant. He was still a boy, yes, but he would not remain one forever. He would grow into a man, and when he did, he would shape the tribe in ways they had never seen before. And she would be there to see it. To witness his growth. To ensure that no one would stand in his way.
Her fingers curled slightly at the thought. She had never wanted to tie herself to any man before. But Athan was not just any man—he was something more. He would change everything. And until he was ready, she would watch him. She would defend him. And when the time came, she would stand at his side..
That was what she thought when the boy stood in front of her, waiting for his meal. In her mind, she told herself, I need to do my part to the best of my ability so that he can continue doing what he does best, without worrying about my side of the task. The realization filled her with a quiet sense of pride.
As her eyes met his, she allowed herself a small smile—one she hadn't even intended. It was a simple moment, but in that instant, she felt something shift within her. A silent acknowledgment, a wordless promise to herself that she would support him, not just because she admired him, but because she believed in what he would become.
She turned back to her work, focusing on her task with newfound determination, unaware of the subtle effect her smile had just had on the boy standing before her. Unknowingly, she had disturbed him in a way he wasn't prepared for, leaving him puzzled by the sudden warmth in her gaze.
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The next morning, Athan woke up early, preparing himself for another day of work. He made his way to the waterfall and knelt by the basin, cupping the cold water in his hands before splashing it over his face. The sudden chill chased away the last remnants of sleep, leaving him refreshed and alert. He took a deep breath, inhaling the crisp morning air before straightening up and making his way toward his newest tool—the wheelbarrow he had built the previous day.
Excited to test it properly, he took the new tool and walked past the fields, glancing at the soil as he moved. Pressing his fingers into the earth, he noted that the moisture was still sufficient. Satisfied that no additional watering was needed, he continued toward the cliffside, where loose stones were abundant. This was the perfect opportunity to see just how useful his invention would be.
Reaching the rocky area near the cliff, Athan selected several medium-sized stones and carefully loaded them into the wheelbarrow. He grasped the handles firmly and pushed forward, adjusting his balance as the weight shifted. The wheel dug slightly into the softer ground at first, but with steady effort, he maneuvered it toward the fields, testing its efficiency with each step.The wooden structure groaned slightly under the weight, the sound of creaking wood and the faint squeak of the wooden wheel echoing in the quiet morning.
When he reached the field, he carefully tipped the wheelbarrow forward, allowing the stones to slide into place along the pathway. The process was smoother than expected, despite the occasional strain from the wooden joints. He repeated the process multiple times, carrying more stones from the cliffside to the field. What would have taken an entire day of exhausting back-and-forth trips was now accomplished in just two hours. The realization filled him with pride—his creation had saved him valuable time and effort.
After ensuring each stone was properly positioned, he turned his attention to the next task. With a sense of renewed energy, he moved to the next section of the field, rolling up his sleeves before setting to work on clearing weeds and uprooting old stumps. The wheelbarrow had already proven its worth, and now, he was ready to push forward with the rest of the day's labor.
Having not forgot his idea of a notebook, Athan took advantage of the time while the stumps burned to begin crafting several sheets of paper from the bark of the trees that had been cut down. He carefully peeled and flattened the bark, ensuring it was smooth enough to write on before setting it aside to dry slightly. Once satisfied with his materials, he made his way to Nat and requested a length of sturdy rope.
Using the rope, he folded the sheets in half and punched several small holes along the edges, threading the rope through to bind them together. Once secure, he trimmed the excess bark to give the notebook a more uniform shape, making it easier to handle. The result was a medium-sized notebook—rough, but functional.
Opening it to the first page, he dipped his handmade pen into his ink and began documenting the first seeds planted on day one in parcel number one. Since he had no proper names for the different seeds yet, he sketched symbols resembling each seed's shape, ensuring he would recognize them later. Each page represented a separate parcel, where he planned to record every detail about what was planted and any changes he observed over time.
For now, ten parcels had been seeded, and he carefully noted all relevant details. He recorded the date of planting, the approximate spacing between each seed, and the conditions of the soil at the time. He noted observations about the weather as well, writing down whether it had rained recently or if the soil had dried faster than expected or remained wet without reason.
Additionally, he left space to document future growth stages, planning to track which seeds sprouted first and how long each took to reach maturity. To the side of each page, he also included small marks indicating whether any of the plants showed signs of weakness or pests.
As the stumps continued to burn, he moved between tending the fire and writing in his notebook, ensuring he didn't miss any crucial information. He knew that this record would be vital not just for himself but for the tribe's future, helping them understand what crops grew best in their new land. Even though they could not read yet, he remained confident that his work would become essential over time, paving the way for knowledge to be passed down and improved upon by future generations.
Once he had finished recording everything he could for the moment, he turned his attention back to the fields. With no more notes to take, he set the notebook aside in a safe place and focused on clearing two additional parcels. Feeling the strain of the morning's work, he decided to take a break and check on the progress of the wall and the trench—something he had not done in some time now.
Arriving at the site, Athan was surprised to see that the trench had been completed. The group who had been digging had stopped about a meter away from the river, clearly hesitant to let the water rush into the trench unchecked. Now with their task finished, they had turned their attention to assisting the two men working on the wall. They stripped the bark and branches from the felled trees, preparing them for construction. Once the logs were positioned upright in the trench, the women secured them tightly in place, ensuring the structure remained stable.
The work was progressing smoothly, and already, half of the wall stood tall, forming a solid barrier. Excited, Athan hurried back to his bedding, retrieved the village plan, and rushed back to the construction site. His eyes sparkled with excitement as he observed the progress, but as he analyzed the layout, he quickly noticed a problem—no one had planned for a gate. Without an entrance, once the wall was complete, there would be no way in or out.
Taking a careful look at the terrain, Athan considered the best location for the gate. After scanning the area, he made his decision. Selecting a spot that would be easy to defend, he placed two large stones on the ground, marking where the entrance would be. His plan was to construct two wooden doors that would swing inward, making it more difficult for intruders to force them open once locked and even piled with rock.
Athan called his father over, waving a hand toward the stones he had placed on the ground. "Here. This will be the entrance," he explained, pointing at the marked space. "If we close off the entire wall, there will be no way in or out without tearing it down."
His father frowned slightly, glancing at the half-built structure. "You right... . But... how make strong? Hole in wall, danger."
Athan nodded, already anticipating the concern. "We'll make a set of wooden doors. They'll swing inward, so if someone tries to break in, they won't be able to push them open easily. We can also pile stones against them from the inside if needed."
His father scratched his chin, his brow furrowing in confusion. "That... work. But... what this? Why leave hole? Wall must strong, must close." He pointed at the marked space, his expression tense, as if the idea of intentionally leaving an opening went against everything he understood about protection. "No hole. Bad. Danger come in."
"We need strong wood," Athan replied, choosing his words carefully so his father could understand. "Same logs as wall. Cut, make big wood, like... barrier. Thick, strong. Not easy to break."
His father narrowed his eyes, still uncertain. "Wall close. No hole."
Athan shook his head. "Not hole. Block it with wood. Make it open and close. When danger, we shut it. Put rock behind if need."
His father scratched his head, glancing back at the wall, then at Athan. "Like... tree fallen in front?"
Athan nodded, seizing the comparison. "Yes! Like fallen tree. But we control it. Move when we want."
His father grunted, considering. "Need strong. No break."
"I make strong," Athan assured him. "Wood thick. Bars behind. Will hold."
His father's frown deepened, his gaze lingering on the marked space. After a long pause, he gave a slow nod. "Alright... Leave open. Wall first. Then... big wood? Like tree? We do after."
Athan smiled, relieved. "Yes. We'll do it after."
The boy exhaled in relief, pleased that his father had accepted the plan. Watching his father return to work, he felt a sense of purpose.