I moved the branch away from where I had marked the door.
I didn't know what would happen to it if I left it there. I didn't know what would happen to us, either.
—Let's move it a little farther.
Thomas picked up the axe and came with me. We stopped beyond the branches we'd piled up, where I could see the entire cleared area. A root protruded from the ground near the edge. I thought about going back to remove it, but it was thick, and I wouldn't have known where to start.
I searched for the Farm again.
Eighty gold. Twenty wood.
The image seemed far too small to contain a house.
I looked at the ground and tried to do the same thing I'd done when I summoned Thomas: choose. This time, however, there was a location. My attention fixed on it—the patch of ground between the larger stone and the pines, the entrance I wanted facing the path toward the water.
A pale shape settled over the earth.
I held my breath.
It had no walls hiding the trees. It was only an impression of volume, enough for me to realize that it occupied more space in my imagination than we'd cleared.
One end overlapped our pile of branches.
—Wait.
Thomas froze.
I still hadn't confirmed anything.
I let the image dissolve, and we went back to work. We dragged the pile farther away. The piece he'd saved to use as a support required both of us to move. My heel protested when I planted my foot, and we stopped to change our grip.
When I searched for the building again, I managed to fit its outline into the space.
I looked at Thomas.
He was standing outside it.
I looked once more.
Then I confirmed it.
The gold dropped to three hundred and forty-five. The wood fell to one hundred and thirty.
The ground disappeared behind a tremor in the air.
I took a step back and bumped into a branch. I didn't take my eyes off the spot. There were vertical lines within the movement, dark sections coming together, a low mass close to the ground. For a moment, I could see the trunk of a pine through what looked like a wall.
Then I couldn't anymore.
I heard a deep crack as wood settled into place.
Thomas grabbed my arm.
The roof took shape against the treetops. A new shadow stretched across the ground, and the smell of fresh wood filled the air between us. It didn't arrive gradually like the smell of the sea. It was simply there, strong and mixed with the scent of freshly disturbed earth.
I'd expected something more like the game. A worker, scaffolding, pieces appearing while a progress bar moved forward.
Now there was a house.
I stared at the wall until my eyes began to burn.
It was low, built of wood over a stone foundation, with a sloped roof and a chimney. The door was close to where I'd placed the branch. There was a window covered by a wooden shutter.
The trees were still there behind it.
That affected me in a strange way. The world hadn't changed scenes. The dirty ground, the stone I'd sat on, the branch I'd been using to walk—all of it remained exactly where it had been, and between those things stood a building that hadn't existed before.
Thomas let go of my arm.
—Varian.
Only then did I realize I was laughing.
It wasn't a happy laugh. It came out in short bursts, interrupted by attempts to breathe.
I rubbed my hands over my face.
—It worked.
Thomas didn't answer. He was staring at the house just like I was.
We walked toward the door slowly.
He touched the wall first, fingers spread wide. He pushed against it slightly. Knocked with his knuckles and listened.
I placed my palm beside his hand.
Solid wood. A little rough. My fingers didn't pass through it, and it didn't vanish when I stopped thinking about it.
At the threshold, I hesitated.
I had brought it here. Even so, I waited for Thomas to lift the latch.
The door opened inward.
The room smelled of fresh wood and cold stone. Light entered behind us and stretched across a strip of floor toward the legs of a table. There were benches, shelves, and a raised space beneath part of the roof. A fireplace occupied the far wall. Nearby, a dark pot hung from a hook.
I ran my hand along the edge of the table.
There wasn't a speck of dirt on it.
That was what made me swallow hard.
That morning, I'd wrung out the same wet sock for the second time. Now there was a table I could rest my hands on, a door I could close, and a ceiling high enough for me to stand upright.
Thomas opened the window.
The light revealed a bucket, bowls, and a wooden spoon. Tools leaned against one corner. I recognized a hoe before I recognized anything else.
I went to the shelves.
They were empty.
I looked beneath the table. Behind the door. In a side compartment, I found space for storage, but no sack, no full basket, no food hanging from anywhere.
I climbed partway up the stairs to look at the upper space.
Nothing I could eat.
I came back down too quickly. My heel struck the step, and I had to catch myself.
Thomas was watching me.
—Is there anything up there? — I asked, pointing toward his side.
He looked again, even though he'd already checked.
—Utensils.
—Food.
The word escaped on its own.
Thomas shook his head.
I went to the back door.
I opened it expecting to find something impossible: a vegetable garden, a field, some part of the farm that had appeared beyond what I could see from the front.
There were pines.
The fallen trunk was still lying in the same place. Wet leaves still filled the depression. No rows of plants, no animals behind a fence.
I rested my forehead against the wooden door.
I'd said I wasn't counting on food.
I had counted on it anyway.
Thomas came closer. He said nothing for a while.
—We have somewhere to store things.
I pulled my face away from the door.
—What?
He looked around the empty room.
—Whatever we manage to get.
I almost said that it didn't help. The sentence was already formed, and I would've used it if a draft hadn't slipped across my back.
I closed the door.
The wind stopped touching my clothes.
I kept my hand on the latch.
The house did help. I was simply too hungry to appreciate everything it still couldn't solve.
Thomas picked up the bucket.
—I'll get water.
—I'll go.
He looked at my boot.
—We can go together.
I wanted to argue, but there was no reason to. I knew the way back; he could carry it without rubbing a wound with every step.
Before leaving, I touched my pocket out of habit.
No keys.
I looked at the closed door and felt a new kind of fear: the fear of leaving something behind.
Thomas noticed my hesitation.
—We won't go far.
On the way down, I turned my head twice to look for the roof between the trees.
The full bucket made the climb slower. Thomas switched hands halfway up. I carried it for a while, using the branch with my other hand. I spilled water onto my pants before finding a way to walk without banging the bucket against my knee.
We arrived with less than we'd collected.
Even so, when we set it down beside the table, I stared at the water as though it were another summoning.
We wouldn't have to go down every time we got thirsty.
Thomas began examining the fireplace and the objects around it. In a small box, he found pieces for starting a fire. He showed me one, then searched for small dry material among the branches we'd moved aside.
I sat on the bench to take off my boot.
The leather came off with difficulty. My sock caught against my heel, and I had to stop before continuing. When I finally pulled it free, I sat there holding the fabric, my teeth clenched.
Thomas looked up.
—Did it get worse?
I nodded.
He didn't say he'd warned me. That was becoming a quality of his that I depended on quite a lot.
I left the boot open near the bench and watched his attempts to start the fire.
The first failed.
The second produced a thin thread of smoke that disappeared before it could gather strength.
I wanted to help, but so little was happening in that space between his hands that I was afraid I'd ruin it just by getting closer.
When the flame finally caught, Thomas stayed bent over it. He added material little by little. The fire threatened to go out more than once.
Finally, a larger piece began to burn.
The crackle was small.
I smiled before realizing it.
Thomas sat back on his heels and exhaled.
Some of the smoke drifted into the room. He stood to check the chimney, and I opened the window farther when he asked. Slowly, the smoke found its way upward.
The fire needed attention. The water needed to be carried. The door had to be closed to keep the wind out.
I began to understand how much work could fit inside a finished building.
The pot went over the fire with some of the water. I stayed near the fireplace, my sock spread out somewhere it couldn't fall onto the embers. The heat reached one side of my face first. I turned the other side toward it, then held out my hands.
Thomas came and sat on the bench.
There was a dark smear of soot beside his nose.
—You're dirty.
He looked at my hands.
For a moment, neither of us said anything. Then he let out a quiet snort of laughter.
It was the first time I'd heard that sound without being startled.
When the water was hot and the wood was still burning, my head began to work better. Or maybe I'd simply stopped thinking about the cold.
I looked at the hoe.
—Do you know how to plant?
—I know how to work the soil.
—Then we can...
Thomas followed my gaze.
—We need seeds. And we need to know when to plant them here.
I looked through the window. The trees told me nothing.
—How long until we get food?
He rubbed his palms together.
—Depends on what we plant.
I knew the next answer wouldn't come that afternoon.
I put a hand over my stomach.
In the game, when food ran low, I pressed a key and ordered another Farm. The wait was short. Then I could go back to thinking about other things.
Here, I had a hoe leaning against a wall and a hungry man who knew how to use it.
—There's the beach.
Thomas nodded.
—Now we have somewhere to cook.
I looked at my foot.
The skin was still red. The sock was beginning to dry, but not enough to put it back on without worrying.
Thomas followed my gaze.
—I'll see what I can bring back.
The idea of being alone in the house seemed good for a moment. Then I remembered the trees hiding the coast, the stretch where we'd moved away from the water, how everything looked different whenever I turned my head.
—What if you can't find your way back?
He stopped beside the door.
—I'll follow the marks. I won't wander away from the beach.
I wanted to ask him to stay.
I looked at the axe, then at the pot.
—If I hear you call, I'll come.
Thomas nodded, although neither of us was certain a shout would carry from there to the cove.
He took one of the house's containers and left.
I listened until his footsteps disappeared.
His absence changed the size of the room.
I was safer than I'd been at any point since arriving in the forest. Even so, I went to the window with the branch in my hand.
I saw no one.
I returned to the fire.
I made sure it didn't go out. I moved the sock away from the heat, turned the boot over, and wiped part of the table with a cloth I'd found among the utensils. It was absurd to clean a table that barely had any dirt on it, but I needed to do something that was within my reach.
Then I searched for the System.
Three hundred and forty-five gold. One hundred and thirty wood.
I could summon another Peasant. I could still summon more than one.
The house was finished, but I still had nothing to offer anyone to eat.
I dismissed the portrait.
At least wood now had a purpose I could understand without numbers. I looked at the branches near the door. Some would go into the fireplace. Others could be used to repair the old shelter if we needed to return there. I didn't want to hand them over to the System before I knew how much we'd need simply to keep the room warm.
I stood to look through the window again.
Nothing.
Time passed without me knowing how to measure it.
When I finally heard footsteps, my first instinct was to grab the branch.
—It's me — Thomas said before appearing in the doorway.
The tension left my shoulders so quickly that I had to brace myself against the table.
He was carrying shells in the container. There weren't many, and some still had seaweed clinging to them.
No crab.
Thomas set everything down beside the water and stood there, breathing.
—It's what I managed to find near where we looked.
I stared at them the way I'd stared at the selling price of the branch.
So little.
Then I saw his hand.
A small cut ran along the side of one finger.
I pulled out the bench.
—Sit for a while.
He sat.
I brought water for him to clean his hand and helped as best I could. I didn't know those shellfish; Thomas recognized some of them, but set aside the ones he wasn't sure about. The usable pile grew smaller.
We cooked what he'd chosen. I waited beside the pot, embarrassed by how badly I wanted to ask whether it was ready.
The smell made my mouth water.
I ate the first portion slowly because it was hot. The meat was sparse and firm, tasting of the sea. There was sand somewhere, and a grain crunched between my teeth.
I could have eaten another whole pot.
There wasn't another.
Thomas divided what remained between the bowls. When he pushed mine toward me, I noticed he'd put more in it.
I gave one piece back.
He looked at me.
—You went to get it.
He didn't argue.
The little we ate dulled the urgency of the hunger without making it disappear. I kept staring at the empty bowl, scraping the bottom with my spoon.
Thomas leaned his back against the wall.
—Tomorrow I can try earlier.
I looked at his injured hand, then at the way he held his shoulder.
Tomorrow we'd need firewood. Water. More food than that. Maybe we could get more from the rocks, maybe we couldn't. We had no hook, no net, and no certainty about what existed beyond the stretch of coast we'd seen.
—We need to find people.
Thomas didn't answer immediately.
The flame shifted in the fireplace. Through the window, I watched the tips of the pines sway.
—We do.
I thought about the name of the place where I believed we were. Azeroth was enormous in the memories I had from the game, filled with names that were useless to me now when it came to choosing a direction.
We needed someone who knew where to fish, what grew here, when the cold came. Someone with bread. I didn't know what we could offer in exchange, but staring at an empty bowl wasn't going to teach me.
Thomas pulled the container we'd used for gathering closer.
—We can follow the coast to get back. Tomorrow we can look beyond the rocks.
—Both of us.
He looked at my foot.
—If you can get the boot on.
I looked down too.
—We'll see in the morning.
There was still light when I closed the back door. I checked the latch, walked once around the room, and brought a little more wood closer to the fireplace.
We hadn't planted anything. There was no reserve for the next morning. The house hadn't given us an answer about the world.
But Thomas had been able to rest his arm on a table while we tended his cut. My sock was dry. Water waited in a bucket, and there was a fire to warm it.
I placed the two clean bowls on the shelf.
I left them side by side, close to the edge, where they would be easy to reach when we finally had something to put inside them.