The fire sizzled quietly in the heart of the cave, casting flickering shadows against the stone walls. Smoke curled lazily near the flames, and the faint smell of roasted herbs mingled with the scent of soil and ash. The rabbits—three now—nestled near the edge of the light, silent and still, their smoky forms twitching occasionally as if dreaming.
Fang sat cross-legged near the fire, sharpening a short blade Isgram had found for him from the salvage he took in the old battlefield. Across from him, Gaia sat on a smooth boulder, her posture relaxed but her eyes sharp, always measuring.
Isgram leaned against the cave wall, arms folded, watching the flames.
"You wanted to know what we're doing here," Fang said, not looking up. "I'll tell you."
Gaia didn't answer. She just watched.
"This cave is the seed," Fang continued. "The haven starts here. The first step is survival—bare bones.
Shelter, food, and training. We make this place livable. We practice. We learn to fight as one."
He met her gaze with a smirk. "And we get strong enough that anyone who stumbles on us regrets it."
Gaia's brow lifted slightly. "Not exactly the idealist's vision."
"No," Fang said simply. "It's the realist's."
He pointed toward the entrance of the cave. "The area around here—thirty meters at best, maybe more. That'll become the outside area of the haven. Gardens, Isgrams forge, lookout posts. Beds and Storage are inside. Real ground to stand on."
Isgram nodded. "I've already started scouting for ore. Found a few veins not far out. We'll need metal for tools, weapons, maybe even traps."
Gaia's calm deamenor returned to her eyes, "I can help with mining, I am an earth mage after all. I can get you metal with higher purity rates than you can dream of."
Isgram nodded with a smile as he found a backer for his dwarf dreams.
"The second phase is independence," Fang went on. "We build what we need. Water, food, and defense. All in-house."
"And when the patrols come?" Gaia asked, voice calm but probing.
Fang's eyes didn't waver. "They'll find a place that bites back."
Gaia smirked at that, just a little.
"Third phase is outreach," Fang said. "We don't sit in this hole forever. Either we start trading with nearby villages, or—"
"Or you conquer them," Gaia finished, her voice like stone on steel.
"If we have to," Fang confirmed. "I won't let fear of perception stop us. We'll protect the haven by any means necessary. Trade is the ideal, but I'm not naive. Not anymore."
"And the others?" Gaia asked. "You're not just doing this for the three of us."
"No," Fang said. "The most important part is finding more chosen ones. All of them. As many as we can. I don't care what element, what race, what crimes the world accuses them of. If they're chosen, they're one of us now."
Gaia looked into the fire. The flames reflected in her eyes like old memories.
"Do you really think we can build something like that? Something they won't tear down the moment they sniff it out?"
Fang leaned forward. "That's why we don't wait for them to sniff it out. We train. We build. We grow strong enough that by the time they notice, it's too late to stop us."
Isgram chuckled. "We'll become the nightmare they tell their kids about. Chosen ones who didn't run. Who didn't break."
Fang stood and walked to the cave entrance. He looked out into the forest, the moonlight catching the tops of the trees.
"We start with the cave," he said. "We end with a sanctuary that no kingdom dares touch."
He turned back to them, eyes glowing faintly with mana.
"Still think it's a fool's dream?"
Gaia stared at him for a long time. Then she stood, brushing dust from her cloak.
"I think," she said, "it's the first real dream I've heard in a long time."
Gaia didn't sit back down. Instead, she walked to the edge of the firelight and stared toward the darkened woods.
"You've got the vision," she said, arms folded. "Now you need bones to hang it on."
Fang followed her gaze. "We have food and water. Barely. We forage, we hunt, and we've got that stream half a kilometer down the slope."
Isgram grunted. "That stream's a pain. Carrying buckets every day isn't sustainable. Not if we want to grow, not if we're going to build a real forge or irrigate crops."
Fang nodded. "Then we bring the stream to us."
Gaia glanced back. "You want a pipe?"
"A system," Fang said. "Ideally a reservoir. with steady pressure. Even if it's slow, gravity does the work. Fill barrels and tubs. Runoff into the garden."
Isgram rubbed his beard. "Clay pipes, maybe stone if we can carve it. Or metal, if I get enough smelt going. We could dig a trench partway and bury it to keep the water cool and flowing."
Gaia tilted her head, thinking. "I could shape a channel through the earth. Not a pipe—just a tunnel. Encased in rock. If the terrain allows, I can even do it with a slight drop, so it flows without help."
Fang grinned. "Then that's your first task."
She smirked. "You'll owe me."
"I pay with food."
Isgram pushed off the wall and stepped toward the fire. "Once we've got water flowing, I can set the forge foundation. I'll need dry ground and some separation from the garden—don't want to start a wildfire."
"We'll mark that tomorrow," Fang said. "I'll also start laying the borders of the garden properly. We need more soil. Better tools, too. And for security, I will leave the task to our new bunny squad."
Gaia gave him a curious look. "Why not just raise something stronger?"
Fang shook his head. "Because bunnies don't scare people. They're overlooked. But they're fast, small, and if you don't see them coming… well. That's the whole point."
Isgram chuckled. "He's got a point. Also, easier to ambush enemies when they least expect it."
Gaia smirked again. "Fine. Bunnies it is."
Fang crouched and scratched a rough sketch into the dirt near the fire—cave, garden, forge, water lines, watch points. His handwriting was ugly, but the plan was coming together.
"We build the reservoir near the upper hill of this forest, around 200 meters upwards," he muttered, tapping the spot. "Cover it, seal it. From there, we build a pipe or tunnel down to a large pool or reservoir near the garden."
"I can line it with stone," Gaia said. "But you'll want some sort of filter too. Keep leaves and dirt out."
"I can rig something," Isgram said. "A grate or mesh. Maybe even charcoal and sand if we need clean water for drinking."
Fang looked at both of them, his voice firm. "We build this right, it serves us for years to come."
"Rooted," Gaia said. "That's what you're doing."
"Exactly," Fang replied. "You don't build a haven by running every time things get hard. We stand. We dig in."
Isgram raised a brow. "And when they come, what then?"
Fang looked at his rabbits, their smoke drifting lazily in the heat.
"Then we make them regret stepping foot in this forest."
----------------------------
The next morning started quietly. The forest was still damp from the night.
Sunlight filtered through the leaves in patches, soft and pale.
Fang stood near the cave entrance, packing a small bag with dried roots, a bit of cooked meat, and a water-filled waterskin. Smoke lingered by his feet, twitching its ears at the sounds in the woods.
Gaia approached, adjusting the strap of her satchel. "I'll start the tunnel toward the stream. If I run into anything, I'll send a pulse through the ground."
Fang nodded. "Smoke will follow. He can relay anything back to me."
Isgram stepped out behind them, tying his hair back with a strip of cloth. "I'll head toward the clearing near the cliff. I want to check the wind exposure before I lay the forge base."
"Good," Fang said. "We'll meet back here at dusk."
They didn't need more words. Everyone had a job. Gaia disappeared into the woods, Smoke bounding beside her. Isgram veered off toward the east, humming something under his breath.
Fang turned back into the cave. The rabbits were curled in a shady corner, still and silent. He walked past them and grabbed a small hand hoe Isgram had patched together from scrap. Then he stepped outside and began marking the second garden perimeter.
The soil was mixed—some of it loose, some clay-heavy. It would need work. He started loosening the edges and clearing stones. It was slow going, but methodical. Groundwork for something bigger.
Hours passed like that—quiet labor under a rising sun. Occasionally, Fang paused to stretch his back and sip from his canteen. He used one of the rabbits to scout around the area, testing how far it could move while still responding to his pull.
By midday, he had a rough square marked out and a pile of cleared rocks growing near the edge. Not much, but enough to say the second garden was going along faster than the first one did when he tilled it.
When the sun started dipping, he headed back inside, washed off with a damp cloth, and set the small pot near the fire to boil again.
By nightfall, they were all back.
Gaia sat down and reported her progress: "I shaped about twenty meters of the channel. It's stable. Tomorrow I'll reinforce it."
Isgram dropped a few chunks of dark stone onto the floor. "Found a decent spot. Dry and flat. If we build a raised platform, it'll stay clear even in heavy rain."
Fang nodded, setting out three small bowls. "Good. One step at a time."
They ate in relative silence. Tired but satisfied. Outside, the forest shifted with the sounds of crickets and rustling leaves.
No speeches. No declarations.
Just the quiet feeling that they'd started something worth continuing.
As they each went to sleep, Fang laid his head on the rough rock and thought:
'I already gave those two my word. I cannot back out from here.
May the gods be with us. Please help me find the right way, Asu.'
The fireplace simmered into embers as he closed his eyes, hoping his prayer was heard.