Elvin stood before the mountain of junk. It was a towering pile of broken wood, rusted metal, and dead vines at the very edge of the camp.
He looked left. He looked right. The nearest patrol was far away, their backs turned.
He took a deep breath. The sickly, weak look vanished from his face. His eyes turned sharp, as cold and hard as steel.
He reached out with one hand. His fingers wrapped around a thick, hardwood beam buried deep under a ton of garbage. He gave it a sharp pull.
The entire pile shuddered. A cascade of debris fell away as he ripped the beam free. He tossed it aside like it weighed nothing. He selected three more sturdy support beams and a massive bundle of tough vines.
He tied them together with efficient, brutal knots. He hoisted the entire bundle onto one shoulder. It weighed hundreds of pounds.
He started walking back. As the shelter came into view, he shifted his posture. He bent his knees. He let his shoulders hunch. He forced his breathing to become loud, ragged, and desperate.
Ariel heard the heavy footsteps. She looked up and saw Elvin staggering under the load, looking like he was about to collapse. She rushed over.
"Put it down! You'll hurt yourself!" she cried, helping him shrug the bundle off his shoulder.
She grabbed a clean leaf, folded it into a cup, and filled it with water from the pot. She handed it to him.
Elvin took it. He drank it in one gulp. A faint, satisfied smile touched his lips, though he kept his eyes cast down, looking exhausted.
"First things first," Ariel said, pointing at the pile of materials. "We need tools."
She picked up a sharp stone flake she had been working on. She handed it to Elvin.
"Whittle this handle down. Make it smooth."
Elvin took the stone. His fingers wrapped around it naturally. Without thinking, his wrist flicked. The stone spun in a flashy, perfect arc-a move only a master fighter would use.
His heart skipped a beat. That was a mistake.
He instantly let out a fake yelp, loosening his grip. The stone clattered to the ground.
"Sorry," he mumbled, playing the weakling, his face contorting in feigned pain. "My hand slipped."
Ariel paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. For a split second, the move had seemed impossibly fluid, dangerously precise. But his immediate clumsiness and the pained expression on his pale face quickly erased the thought. It must have been a fluke. She let out a breath and offered a mild laugh. "Be careful next time."
Elvin picked up the stone again. This time, he forced his movements to be clumsy, slow, and shaky. But even with the act, his cuts were precise, his efficiency terrifying.
Ariel sat beside him, grinding a piece of mutated beast bone against a rough rock, shaping it into a knife.
The sun climbed higher. The heat of the day set in. Ariel wiped the sweat from her forehead. Her stomach let out a loud, embarrassing rumble.
She stood up. "I'm going to check the second fish basket. Keep working."
Elvin put down the wood. "I'm coming with you." His tone was firm. "The riverbank isn't safe."
They walked to the river together. Ariel hauled up the basket. This time, it wasn't just fish. Dozens of giant mutated river crabs clicked and snapped inside the trap.
Their shells were black and hard as iron. Their claws were massive. In this camp, they were considered garbage. Too hard to crack, too little meat, too dangerous to handle.
Ariel's eyes sparkled. She looked at them like they were gold coins. She carefully dumped the furious crabs into a woven basket.
Back at the shelter, Ariel showed Elvin what to do.
"Grab them from the back. Twist the head off. Pull this black line out." She demonstrated, her movements quick and practiced.
Elvin copied her. His long, pale fingers moved like surgical instruments. He didn't fumble. He didn't hesitate. He stripped the shell away, leaving the meat perfectly intact.
Ariel stared at him. "You're a natural," she said, genuinely impressed.
Elvin lowered his head, hiding the flush of pleasure that crept up his neck.
Ariel chopped the crab and shrimp meat, mixing it with wild herbs. She dumped it all into the iron pot to make a rich seafood stew.
As the steam rose, carrying the mouth-watering smell, they sat side by side on the stone floor. For a moment, the harshness of the wasteland seemed very far away.
