The roof beam refused to settle.
Kaelira adjusted it once, twice, then a third time—each attempt ending with the same subtle shift, the same quiet insistence that it would not stay where she wanted it. A moment of irritation blossomed within her before she pushed the feeling away.
She stared up at it, one hand braced against the frame, feeling the dense wooden grains beneath her fingers.
"You're doing this on purpose."
The beam, unsurprisingly, offered no response.
Behind her, the fox-like Eevee made a small sound that might have been amusement.
Kaelira exhaled slowly through her nose, eyes flickering towards the creature before focusing on the grains above her once more.
"Don't start."
Eevee flicked its tail. The creature was quite the diva when it wanted to be.
She stepped back down from the support, rolling her shoulder once before glancing toward the open plains. The wind had picked up since morning, pushing against the structure in slow, steady breaths.
Not strong enough to tear it down.
Strong enough to test it.
"Fine," she muttered. "We'll do it your way."
The reinforcement beam took longer to put in its place.
She dragged it from the side of the barn—heavier than it looked, rough-cut and still carrying the scent of sap. It caught once on uneven ground, forcing her to stop and adjust her grip.
Kaelira didn't rush it.
There was no one to hurry for.
She set the beam in place, securing it at an angle to brace the roofline rather than fight it. The structure shifted slightly as the tension redistributed—subtle, but noticeable. She heard the groan of the wood as it resisted before settling, a hope in her heart that it would not all just fall apart.
Then it held.
Kaelira stepped back, watching. Possibly holding her breath as she looked at the half-built structure, though she would not admit that if anyone asked.
A moment passed.
The wind pressed against the frame again.
This time, nothing moved.
"…There you are," she said quietly.
Eevee trotted in a slow circle beneath the beam, then sat, as if confirming the decision.
Kaelira allowed herself the smallest nod.
By midafternoon, the light had turned warmer.
The work didn't stop—but it changed.
Construction gave way to gathering.
Kaelira slung a worn satchel over her shoulder, checking its contents by habit more than necessity. Rope. Knife. A few empty containers. Cloth.
Eevee waited near the edge of the fence, already watching the land beyond.
"You don't have to come," Kaelira said, stepping up beside it.
Eevee didn't move.
"I'm serious. It's just a supply run."
A pause.
"…Fine," she added. "But you stay close."
That earned her a soft, satisfied sound.
Kaelira opened the gate.
The hinges creaked—a note she filed away for later—and then they were out beyond the boundary of the ranch.
The land changed subtly once you left the fence.
It wasn't obvious at first. The grasses were the same height, the same soft green. The wind moved through them the same way.
But the feeling was different.
Less certain.
Kaelira walked without hesitation, her steps steady and unhurried. She didn't follow a path—there wasn't one—but her direction was deliberate, angled toward a low rise where scattered shrubs broke the uniformity of the plains.
Eevee kept pace at her side, quieter now, its earlier ease replaced with alert stillness.
Good.
That meant it was paying attention.
They easily found the first patch of edible greenery.
Clusters of low-growing plants, their leaves broad and slightly waxy, gathered around the base of a shallow dip in the land. The soil there was darker, holding moisture longer than the surrounding ground.
Kaelira crouched, brushing a thumb along one of the leaves.
"Still alive," she murmured.
She tested the stem gently before cutting it clean, placing the harvested pieces into her satchel with care. Not everything. Never everything.
The land gave.
You didn't take more than it could spare.
Eevee shifted beside her, nose lifting.
Kaelira stilled.
The wind moved.
The grasses whispered.
And beneath it—faint, but there—
A second sound.
Not wind.
Not movement she could see.
Her hand tightened slightly around the knife.
"Stay," she said softly.
Eevee didn't argue. The little fox knew better than to stand against whatever noise it heard. It knew the safest place was behind Kaelira. So it kept quiet as the gathering continued.
The sound came again.
A rustle, low and deliberate, somewhere beyond the rise.
Kaelira didn't turn toward it immediately. Instead, she reached for another plant, cutting it with the same measured motion as before, placing it into the satchel.
Routine.
Normal.
Uninteresting.
The rustle paused.
Then shifted.
Closer.
Kaelira straightened slowly, brushing her hands clean as she rose.
Only then did she look.
The grasses parted just enough to reveal movement—quick, low to the ground, and gone again before it could be clearly seen.
Not large.
But not harmless.
Eevee's stance lowered, ears forward, body angled slightly toward Kaelira.
Protective and protected.
Kaelira's gaze remained steady.
"Not ours," she said under her breath.
The wind shifted direction.
Whatever had been watching them hesitated.
Then, just as quietly as it had come—
It withdrew.
The grasses settled.
The sound disappeared.
Kaelira waited a moment longer before exhaling.
"Good choice," she said, though whether it was meant for Eevee or whatever had been out there wasn't entirely clear.
They didn't linger too much longer in their gathering.
The satchel was full enough to handle a few meals for the two of them.
Kaelira adjusted the strap over her shoulder and turned back toward the ranch, her pace unchanged—but her awareness sharper now, attention stretched across the land in a way that never fully relaxed.
Eevee stayed closer on the return.
Not fearful.
Just… aware.
The fence came into view slowly, its rough lines cutting across the open plains like a promise.
Inside, the Wooloo had gathered near the barn, their soft forms clustered together in the lengthening light.
Safe.
For now.
Kaelira closed the gate behind them with a firm push, checking the latch before stepping fully inside.
Only then did the tension in her shoulders ease—just slightly.
Eevee moved ahead, circling once before settling near the doorway of the house.
Kaelira set the satchel down on the table, unpacking its contents piece by piece.
"Not bad," she said. "We'll make something of it."
Eevee hopped onto the table and watched her.
A pause seemed to settle over the space.
Then, quietly:
"That's how it works," Kaelira added, more to the room than anything else. "You take what you can. You leave the rest. And you come back tomorrow."
Outside, the wind carried on across the plains, brushing against the fence, the barn, the half-built house.
Beyond it, the land remained wide and open. Wind whispered secrets, and shadows moved uncertainly over strange lands, while distant howls of beasts made themselves known.
Untamed creatures and shattered earth.
Watching and waiting.
Kaelira didn't look out at it again as the light began to fade.
But she didn't forget it was there.