He kicked the already blackened stump with the tip of his boot: "This wood won't rot even if it's thrown back into the swamp to soak for a hundred years."
Thorne watched as the burnt stumps were carried away, only to be hammered deep into the mud by others with heavy hammers.
The part of the stumps protruding above the ground was connected by beams, elevating the floor half a meter.
The walls were made of carbonized wood panels, and the gaps were filled with clay mixed with dry grass, tightly packed so the wind couldn't penetrate.
Thorne stood in place, watching rows of black house frames rise from the swamp, his throat moved.
He was about to look away when he saw Pete's shoulder was rubbed raw from the logs.
Blood mixed with sweat seeped out, but he seemed oblivious and kept directing people to adjust the position of the stumps.
