The fish were ready when there was no longer enough light to see the path through the window.
We ate near the fireplace. Thomas picked out a bone I hadn't noticed and left it on the rim of my bowl. The hot meat eased the trembling in my hands, but the names I'd heard on the beach stayed with me.
Stark. Winterfell.
After eating, I searched along the edge of the fireplace for a piece of cold charcoal and scratched across the face of a splinter of wood.
Thomas followed the movement.
—What are you doing?
—Trying not to forget.
I wrote Mara's name. The charcoal crumbled before I could finish Harl. I turned it around and continued.
Below them, I wrote the name of the region as I remembered hearing it. The wood was uneven. Some of the letters looked worse than the ones I'd written as a child.
I started to write Stark, then stopped and left a space beside it.
—She didn't say his name — I said.
Thomas was gathering the bowls.
—She said Lord Stark.
—But not which one.
He looked at the splinter, then at me.
—Then don't write what she didn't say.
I held the charcoal suspended in the air.
There was so much I remembered. Faces, deaths, places. I could fill that piece of wood with names without knowing whether any of those people were alive, nearby, or willing to help.
I left the space blank.
The next morning, we divided the bread that remained.
Thomas broke it carefully so we wouldn't lose the crumbs. I gathered a few from the table with my fingertip. When we finished, the shelf held only the bowls again.
My heel seemed less inflamed. It still hurt inside the boot, but I could put weight on it without holding my breath. Thomas's shoulder was still bad whenever he raised his arm.
We needed to go back to the beach.
I knew it, and it took me a while to say it.
The day before, it had been easier to think about looking for strangers than it was now to think about asking the same people for more work.
—She said maybe — I said.
Thomas picked up the axe.
—Let's find out.
We found no one.
The place where the net had been was empty. There were marks in the gravel and a scale caught against a stone. The boat was gone too.
I stared at the water.
Thomas didn't say Mara had warned us. He didn't need to.
We waited for a while, then returned to the stretch where he'd gathered shellfish. This time I helped. We worked close together, and he made me leave behind some shells I would have taken.
We returned with a small amount.
The meal lasted less time than the walk.
It was after that that I opened the System.
I was sitting at the table, the branch leaning against the bench and the wooden splinter lying in front of me. Thomas was examining the edge of the axe near the window.
I searched through the buildings, more carefully than I had beside the water.
I recognized the lumber mill.
**Lumber Mill.**
One hundred and twenty gold.
Wood wasn't listed as part of the price.
Farther down, I found the blacksmith.
One hundred and forty gold, sixty wood.
I could afford both.
I did the calculation with charcoal, on the back of the splinter.
Three hundred and forty-five minus one hundred and twenty. Then minus one hundred and forty.
Eighty-five.
Wood would fall to seventy.
Two buildings, and I would still have enough to summon another man.
For a few moments, I felt the same urgency I'd felt when I found the Farm.
I looked at Thomas.
—Do you know how to work iron?
He raised his head.
—Do what with it?
—Tools. Nails. Repair the axe.
Thomas turned the handle in his hands.
—I can take care of it. Making another one is a blacksmith's work.
—But if there were a forge?
He set the axe down on the bench.
—I would still need to know how to make another one.
I looked at the image of the **Blacksmith**.
In the game, I'd never wondered who worked inside.
—What about wood?
Thomas pointed toward the wall.
—I can work wood. With the right tools, better.
I explained the lumber mill. Or tried to. I knew the image, how it was used in the game, the price. After the Farm, I didn't want to promise stacks of lumber piled outside before seeing what would actually appear.
Thomas listened until I finished.
—We need something people want to trade for — he said.
I looked at the splinter with the names.
Mara had fish. Harl had a boat. Both of them had more work than they could handle.
—We can ask before we spend anything.
Thomas nodded.
I left both buildings where they were.
The next morning, we went back to the beach.
This time, Harl was beside the boat. Mara had both arms buried in a basket, moving the fish around. She saw us first and gave us a short nod of her chin.
She didn't smile.
I was glad anyway.
Thomas set the axe on the same stone as before, before anyone could ask.
—Is there work? — I asked.
Mara looked at the net.
—A little.
I sat down to work before she could change her mind.
Thomas helped her with the fish. I cleaned the section she'd indicated and waited for a pause before asking about wood.
Harl turned.
—There's wood everywhere.
My face grew hot. I'd imagined the conversation starting differently.
—Worked wood.
He looked at Thomas.
—What can you make?
Thomas put down the knife and wiped his hands before answering.
—Depends on the piece. I can take a look.
Harl led him to a set of stakes near where he'd stored the net. One of them was broken. He spoke quietly, pointed toward the ground, then toward the broken end.
I couldn't hear everything. I kept working the mesh between my fingers until the two of them returned.
—Six — Harl said. —Pointed. Straight enough that they won't split when struck. You can use this one as a measure.
Thomas picked up the broken stake.
—I can try.
—Take your time. I'll trade for them if they're good.
I looked at the basket of fish.
—For what?
Harl looked at it too.
—Two fish. The size of the ones you took before. For the six good ones.
I did the calculation without numbers.
A walk carrying wood. Thomas's work. Two people to feed.
I didn't know whether we could get a better deal.
—No splitting here — Harl added, showing me the point. —I'm not trading for firewood.
Thomas examined the model.
—Understood.
That day, cleaning the net and fish earned us a small portion of the catch. No bread.
Mara set the payment aside in front of us, and I accepted it without asking for anything else.
We returned with food to prepare and a broken stake on loan.
It was our first order.
Back at the house, Thomas laid the piece across the table and showed me the part he needed to copy.
—The axe can do this — he said. —It'll just take longer to get it right.
I looked at his shoulder.
The lumber mill wouldn't take away the pain. It wouldn't put food on the shelf by itself, either. But it could give him more than that single blade to do almost everything.
I searched for the price again.
One hundred and twenty.
—Let's bring out the lumber mill — I said. —The blacksmith can wait.
Thomas was silent for a moment.
—Choose somewhere that won't interfere with the path to the water.
We went outside together.
I didn't use the first space where the image seemed to fit. It was too close to the back door. Thomas made me imagine someone carrying a long piece through there while someone else came in with a bucket.
We moved it.
We cleared branches, checked the ground, and left the path we already used open. Thomas tested the distance by walking with the stake held across his hands.
I wanted to tell him it wasn't necessary.
When the end nearly caught the doorframe, I stayed quiet.
I only confirmed the location afterward.
The gold fell to two hundred and twenty-five.
The wood remained at one hundred and thirty.
The air changed in the chosen space. I'd already seen it twice, and I still took a step back.
The structure that appeared looked more like a place of work than another house. It had a roof, wooden supports, and an open area for maneuvering the pieces. There was no wheel turning, no machinery making noise. The tools waited in silence.
Thomas went inside first.
He ran his fingers across a workbench, examined the supports, and lifted a saw. He set it down, picked up a smaller tool, and tested the fit with his thumb.
There was room to store wood.
It was empty.
I didn't look for food this time.
—Can you work with it? — I asked.
Thomas looked at the tool in his hands.
—I can.
It was the most certain answer he'd given me about anything since he'd arrived.
We didn't make the six stakes that afternoon.
First, we needed to choose wood that would work. The pile we'd moved aside to make room for the building was a mixture of things: rotten pieces, crooked branches, usable scraps. Thomas separated what he could use and left the rest for other purposes.
I carried the smaller pieces, held things steady when he asked, and learned not to put my fingers where a blade would pass.
Even so, the first attempt failed.
The wood split near one end. Thomas stopped, examined the crack, and set the piece aside.
—Not this one.
I looked at the time we'd spent.
—Can't we just cut...
He showed me how far the split extended.
I stopped talking.
The next morning, we worked after drinking and eating what little fish remained. Thomas's shoulder forced him to take breaks. My foot improved when I stayed close to the house and worsened whenever I forgot that and carried too much weight.
By the end of the work, six pieces had been separated from the scraps.
They weren't identical. One had a slight curve; another had lost more wood on one side. Thomas compared each one to Harl's stake and redid the tip he considered poor.
I cleaned the workbench.
It was while dragging a heavy piece toward the pile that I thought about selling wood again.
The indication appeared.
**0.08 gold.**
Or **0.8 wood.**
I called Thomas.
He came closer, but looked at the piece on the ground, not at the words only I could see.
—Is it reserved for something? — I asked.
—No. We can save it for the fire if we don't use it another way.
I looked at the smaller branches we'd already set aside for the fireplace.
I wanted to know whether it worked.
Not sell the whole pile. Not repeat the absurd calculation I'd made in the forest.
Just complete one transaction and see what happened.
I told Thomas the value.
—That's not much — he said.
—I know.
I kept my hand over the wood and chose to sell.
A confirmation appeared.
Alongside it, I could see there was a purchase limit: one hundred and fifty gold over thirty days.
I didn't stop to figure out all the details. I checked the value of that piece once more.
**0.08.**
I confirmed.
The wood disappeared beneath my hand.
My fingers touched the ground, and I pulled them back.
Thomas took half a step backward.
Where the piece had been, there was only lighter earth and a few flattened pine needles.
The balance changed to **225.08**.
I stared until I was certain.
—It went through — I said.
Thomas crouched and touched the empty mark.
—And the wood?
—It's gone.
He looked up.
—Then don't count on it for the fire anymore.
I nodded.
I wrote the number on the splinter, below the lumber mill calculation. The decimal point looked like a smudge, and I had to redo it.
I'd managed to get more gold.
Enough to prove it was possible.
Far from enough to pay for another building.
That afternoon, we took the stakes to the beach, along with the borrowed model. We divided the pieces between us. I had to stop twice to adjust the weight.
Mara and Harl weren't there.
We placed the wood above the wet part of the rocks and waited.
I looked toward the sea several times, as if the force of my stare could make the boat appear.
Hunger returned before they did.
Thomas sat on a stone, protecting his shoulder. I sat beside him.
—We could have brought the container to collect things — I said.
He nodded.
We had left so certain we'd return with fish that we hadn't considered the possibility of finding no one there to give them to us.
When the boat appeared, the first thing I felt was relief.
The second was fear that Harl would look at the stakes and refuse them all.
We waited until they had pulled in before approaching.
Harl picked up the first piece without saying anything. He turned it over, pressed the tip against a stone, ran his finger along the wood. He repeated the inspection with the others.
At the fifth, he stopped.
—This point could be better.
Thomas held out his hand.
—I can redo it.
Harl looked at it again.
Then he placed the piece with the others.
—It'll do for now.
I let out the breath I'd been holding.
Mara separated two fish. I checked their size without wanting her to notice.
They seemed close to what we'd agreed on.
We returned the broken stake and received the food.
No coins changed hands.
Even so, I wanted to look at a balance.
—Can you make handles? — Harl asked Thomas.
He looked at me for a moment, then answered for himself.
—I need to see the tool.
Harl nodded.
He didn't hand him anything then. He didn't name a price.
But I heard the question all the way through and remembered the difference between that and an actual order.
We returned with the fish.
The lumber mill appeared first between the trees, then the roof of the house. I set the load on the table and went to get the splinter where I kept the numbers.
**225.08 gold.**
**130 wood.**
The blacksmith cost one hundred and forty. If I summoned it, I'd still have gold left.
But there was no iron stored, and Thomas had already told me he wasn't a blacksmith.
I could buy the building before understanding what to do with it.
I turned the splinter over.
On the side with the names, I wrote a word beneath Harl's:
**Handle.**
Thomas, beside the fireplace, looked over his shoulder.
—He hasn't asked for one yet.
—I know.
I made a small mark beside it to remind myself.
Then I crossed out the line for the six stakes.
That job was finished.
The fish on the table were the part that had come back to us.