In the days following their adventure in the forest, Dio decided to return to helping in the fields. He spent his evenings with Des and Brela in the village square, gathered around one of the fires or sitting together a bit away on their usual log. Some days, Wes, Reab, or Yorm would join them, and occasionally Ogan, Ha, or others as well.

  Brela never again brought up what had happened. She wore her usual cheerful smile, but in quiet moments when she thought no one was looking, Dio could catch a flicker of unease in her eyes - furtive glances, as if she were searching for something that wasn’t there.

  Des seemed to notice it too. One morning, instead of working in the fields, they were gathering fallen plums under one of the trees when he cautiously brought it up to Des.

  “Yes, you are right. Something’s weighing on her. She thinks no one sees it, but it happens often enough that I’m sure she’s hiding something unpleasant,” the farmer remarked.

  Dio looked down at a few dirty plums at his feet and tossed them into one of the noblecups on the ground beside him, already half-filled.

  “Yeah, I’ve thought the same. I’ve wondered if we should ask her about it, but… I don’t think she wants us to. Who knows why,” he finally muttered.

  Des glanced up toward the sky, as if hoping the sun would offer an answer.

  “Maybe she just needs a nudge. It started after you two left, didn’t it? After that animal attacked you?”

  Dio shifted uncomfortably and gave a small shrug. “Yeah, I think so. But do you really think that’s what triggered it? She said she’s healed people before. Seen terrible wounds. A little bite on the finger shouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary, right?”

  Des nodded.

  “You’re right. But still, it started then. Maybe I should ask her…” he said, stepping absentmindedly on a plum, which burst with a squelch.

  But when they finished work and stopped by Brela’s little garden, she waved them off the moment they asked.

  “It’s nothing! Don’t worry! I’ve just been thinking more than usual lately… and I’m a little sad I haven’t found my berries yet,” she said with a laugh.

  Dio looked into her eyes, deeply, but Brela didn’t hold his gaze for long. That didn’t ease his concern, but he let it go. After all, what right did he have to press her like that?

  Still, something stirred inside him, something uncomfortable, like a wild animal waking from a long sleep, ready to hunt again. It was a feeling of… he didn’t know. But it had definitely been triggered by something in her eyes.

  Even that evening, during his meditation, he couldn’t shake the feeling. The warmth that Brela usually brought into his mind now felt somehow different, charged with something new. The warmth of the others did not help either, this time, not even the brightness of Ray, distant but still beautiful. He tried to grasp the uneasiness, to visualize it, but nothing came. He still couldn’t form anything clear within himself.

  Is there really nothing inside me? No Lucidity? Those Sages were right… I don’t have anything lucid in me. And Ray… she’s so radiant… he thought, disheartened, as he slipped back from the numbness the next morning.

  And yet... What was that feeling he’d had when the pain of the bite shot through his arm? Or when he’d baked those rolls? None of it made any sense to him...

  On his way to the fields, Dio stopped by Lot’s place to see what new ideas the tinkerer had come up with. Ever since building the wheel, Lot had made several improvements to the cart, something Dio had only caught wind of in passing. But now, so much had changed at the workshop that Dio almost forgot to breathe for a moment.

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  Lot had clearly moved on from the sharp-edged stones he used to laboriously carve bark and wood. Instead, spread out on the fur mat in front of his shelter were several silvery objects that Dio immediately recognized upon closer inspection - or more accurately, that stirred memories within him.

  There was a chisel, for one, its tip still dusted with tiny wood shavings. Beside it lay a sort of saw. It was just a single metal blade, but without question, far more effective than anything else Dio had seen. And the usual flintstone wedged into a stick and bound with vines - the crude tool Lot had used for splitting - was nowhere in sight. In its place, Dio saw a small axe with a dark, matte blade and a finely crafted handle, etched with a tiny sun. Though the tool looked solid, Dio noticed several small cracks running across the axe head’s surface.

  “Hey, Dio! You good?” Lot called out. “I see you’re admiring my new creations! Made ’em over the last three days. They’re not super durable long-term, but who cares? Just looking at them gives me new ideas! What if I build more carts! Or even cabins? I’ve got to talk to Klan about it! He stops by often, and we brainstorm, but…”

  He trailed off, out of breath from the excitement.

  Dio gave him a wide smile and chuckled, trying to match his energy. Then, as innocently as possible, he asked: “Where did you get the metal? And how did you work it?”

  Lot just shrugged. “Oh, I just tinkered a bit. It sort of happened on its own. Honestly, I barely even noticed! I was in such a rush of excitement once I started improving my sad little hammers…”

  He ran a thoughtful hand through his gray hair, and Dio now noticed a few blonde strands mixed in. Or had they always been there?

  Lot shrugged again. “Eh, whatever!”

  He picked up the axe and gently stroked its blade, but there was some annoyance in his voice. “I’m sure I can make it even harder and more durable eventually, but for now… I’m happy with this.”

  He set the axe aside and lifted the chisel instead, spinning it between his fingers with a grin.

  “Can I take a look?” Dio asked, his eyes locked on the tool.

  “Of course,” Lot said with a smirk, holding it out.

  Dio took the chisel and was surprised at how light it felt. It was a solid-looking shaft of metal, a little longer than his foot, yet it hardly weighed anything. Its surface was smooth, with only a few rough patches. Dio turned it over in his hands.

  So many possibilities with this… he thought in awe. Carving wood, shaping stone, chipping at ice… scraping, splitting, drilling…

  His hands began to tremble slightly.

  “You okay?” Lot asked, his tone suddenly more concerned.

  Dio handed the chisel back.

  “Yeah, I was just a little overwhelmed,” he admitted, feeling his cheeks flush.

  Lot burst out laughing, a deep, booming sound.

  “Yeah, I just thought I needed something for scraping, splitting, or drilling,” Lot said. “And while I was working on my flint, the sunlight hit one of the fractured edges and reflected back at me. I looked up, felt the sun on my face, and started thinking about the circle you told us about. The one your Ray saw. Then I remembered chisels, see, they are round when you look at them from the side! I worked on it almost until nightfall, and soon enough, the image in my mind and the flint in my hand started to merge, slowly but surely. It was wonderful!” Lot laughed.

  Dio couldn’t help but smile at his words.

  “That really does sound impressive! And exciting,” he said.

  His eyes drifted to a small pile of flint stones still lying beside one of noblecups, now looking half-forgotten.

  “What about those?” he asked with a nod.

  Lot made a face.

  “Oh, I’ll get around to working on them too. Unfortunately, I still need them. All my new tools don’t last very long.”

  The frustration was clear in his eyes, and his beard twitched as he let out a sharp huff.

  Dio looked again at the chisel.

  “Yeah, I think I saw some cracks already.”

  “They all have them. But maybe that’s not such a bad thing, right? I was so fired up when I made those tools, and if they lasted forever, I probably wouldn’t get to enjoy sharpening and polishing them so often.”

  He shrugged, and a quick grin flickered across his face.

  Dio pointed to one of the flint wedges.

  “Mind if I borrow one?”

  “No, take it. At least with those, you’re not holding broken pieces five hits later,” Lot said, waving absentmindedly toward the sharp stones.

  He slung the axe over his shoulder - though next to his towering frame, it looked more like a toy - and added, “I’m heading into the forest to cut down a few trees. Just leave it back over there when you’re done.”

  “Sure,” Dio nodded, picking out a flint wedge that fit comfortably in his hand.

  Cutting… splitting… he thought, feeling unexpectedly cheerful.

  Lot was already striding off and didn’t even notice Dio waving after him. From the determined pace of his steps, Dio could tell the giant of a man was on his way to tackle something new and important. Once Lot disappeared between two of the shelters, Dio turned and made his own way toward the edge of the forest.

  There was something he’d been wanting to check ever since that walk with Brela, when they’d talked about the Dream. A question that had been pressing on him more and more:

  How stable and consistent is the Dream in Daw, if it tends to shift and change further out?