The wooden wheels of the wagon roll over the clearing, creaking. With each step, the horse's harness creaks as it steadily pulls the burden. The driver, an NPC, sits at the front bench, guiding the horse forward with steady, mechanical movements while holding the reins. Jason rests one arm against the wooden side of the wagon as he sits among the stacked supplies in the back. The travel is slow and unpleasant, each bump in the earth sending a dull jolt through the cart.
–
Dust clings to his boots, and sweat darkens the collar of his shirt as he watches the clearing approach.
Even sitting still, his body feels exhausted.
"Yeah… I know," he mutters between breaths. "I'm tired."
The wooden creatures stand scattered around the clearing.
One leans beside the cabin porch, fingers stretched toward the boards. Another hunches near the trees, its crooked spine bent like a broken hinge.
Jason stops the wagon and wipes his face.
"You still watching?"
Silence.
He lifts a piece of rope from the wagon and tosses it onto the porch.
"Good," he says. "Because I'm busy."
The creatures shift.
Barely.
One tilts its unfinished face toward the wagon.
Jason notices.
"Oh, now you care?"
He drags a bundle of wood down from the cart. It thuds against the ground.
The creature nearest the porch draws back half a step.
Jason blinks.
"You moved. Again."
He drops more wood beside the cabin wall.
The creatures lean away from the pile.
Jason stares at them.
"You don't like supplies?"
He lifts a scrap of wood and holds it up.
"Or this?"
Another faint recoil.
Jason laughs under his breath.
"That's interesting."
The wind drifts across the clearing, stirring dust around the wagon wheels.
Jason steps across the cabin threshold carrying the wood.
The creatures pull back again.
Not far.
Just enough.
Jason sets the wood down and looks around slowly.
The clearing feels different.
Tighter.
The trees seem closer.
The cabin walls look nearer than before.
Jason frowns.
"That's… weird."
He steps back outside and looks across the ground.
The monsters wait in their crooked stances.
Closer than before.
"Fine," he says quietly.
"Let's build something."
The clearing feels smaller with every step he takes.
Jason hammers the iron scrap against the cabin wall.
Clang.
Clang.
"Stay," he mutters.
The metal bends sideways.
Jason groans.
"You had one job."
A heavy breath sounds behind him.
Jason freezes.
He turns slowly.
The Quiet Smith stands beside the wagon.
He carries the look of a man in his late fifties, though his posture carries none of the frailty the age might suggest. Short, broad-backed and solid, with thick forearms and muted orange skin, he wears a heavy work apron crowded with tools, hammers, gauges, braces, each one set in its place with deliberate order.
A massive, bushy beard covers most of his lower face, spreading thickly along his jaw and chin. Above it, his steel-gray eyes watch without blinking, steady and reflective. His hair is cropped close to the scalp, nearly shaved, giving his stern features an even harder edge.
The Smith draws in a slow, deliberate breath, his compact broad-backed frame rising slightly under the weight of his tool-laden apron. His steel-gray eyes flick over the structure with unwavering focus, fingers flexing once in a precise, measured gesture. He shifts his short, solid stance and leans toward the next task, every movement controlled, deliberate and efficient.
Jason blinks.
"Oh. Great."
The Quiet Smith walks forward without hurry, boots pressing firmly into the dirt.
Jason points at the wall.
"I'm building."
The Smith studies the structure.
His chest rises once.
Then he grabs the rope.
One pull.
Jason's work collapses instantly.
Wood drops.
Iron clatters.
Jason stares.
"Hey."
The Smith doesn't react.
He stoops deliberately, collecting the scattered pieces with steady, measured precision, each movement controlled and purposeful.
Jason crosses his arms.
"You're joking."
The Smith repositions the wood.
Two vertical posts.
A cross beam.
He tightens the rope once.
The frame holds firm.
Jason leans closer.
"That… works."
The Smith lifts the bent iron scrap.
Jason points.
"That part was difficult."
The Smith sets the scrap against the wood.
Tap.
Tap.
The small hammer strikes twice.
The metal straightens.
"Show off," Jason says.
The Smith exhales quietly through his nose.
Then he steps aside.
Jason circles the frame slowly.
"It's smaller."
The Smith gives a single short grunt.
"Less comfortable too," Jason says.
Another quiet grunt.
Jason glances toward the monsters.
They wait at the clearing edge.
Watching.
He looks back at the frame.
"So… discipline?"
The Smith's steel-gray eyes hold steady.
Jason sighs.
"Yeah. I get it."
The Quiet Smith steps back from the unfinished structure.
Then he gives a short nod toward Jason.
Jason blinks.
"Oh."
He picks up the hammer.
"You want me to finish it."
The Smith folds his arms and waits.
Jason tightens the rope.
Adjusts the wood.
He steps back.
"Like that?"
The Smith doesn't move.
Jason frowns.
"Okay… maybe not finished yet."
Jason drags another plank across the cabin porch.
"Left side," he mutters.
The hammer strikes wood.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
He steps back and wipes sweat from his brow.
The new wall splits the cabin in two.
Jason points.
"Storage."
He turns toward the opposite corner.
"And that's training."
The Quiet Smith stands beside the doorway, watching.
Jason lifts the leather flask and places it behind the storage wall.
"Food stays here."
He walks toward the open floor.
"Training stays there."
The wind drifts through the clearing again.
Dust curls across the porch.
Jason glances toward the creatures.
They have moved.
Closer again.
One steps toward the cabin.
Jason leans on the hammer.
"Hold on," he says.
"You're not invited."
The creature reaches the edge of the porch.
Jason watches carefully.
"Go on," he says.
"Step closer."
The creature lifts one long arm.
Then it stops.
Its body stiffens.
Jason blinks.
"What?"
The creature leans forward again.
Something invisible pushes it back.
It jerks slightly.
Jason walks to the edge of the porch.
"Wait."
He taps the floorboard with his boot.
"You can't cross?"
The creature tries again.
Its fingers tremble just above the line.
Then it recoils sharply.
Jason looks back at the cabin walls.
At the storage section.
At the training space.
He exhales slowly.
"You're kidding me."
He raises the hammer and strikes another nail into the frame.
Knock.
Knock
The creature watches.
Jason smiles faintly.
"So that's the trick."
He drives the nail deeper.
Structure stands between him and the clearing.
The monster tries the invisible line once more.
And fails.