The morning after was different. A new kind of quiet had settled over the cottage, a world away from the desperate, fearful silence of the cave. It was the quiet of a home, of full bellies and the promise of safety. I woke to the soft morning light filtering through the single window and the smell of woodsmoke already curling from the hearth. Eve, ever the vigilant one, was already awake, sitting by the doorway and sharpening a new knife she had carved from a Carrion Strider's talon. She gave me a curt nod as I sat up, a silent acknowledgment that was leagues away from the hostility of the day before.
We shared a simple breakfast of the leftover curry, a meal that still felt like a feast of impossible luxury. I watched the sisters, truly watched them, for the first time without the haze of adrenaline or the weight of an immediate crisis. Vesper, timid as ever, ate in small, delicate bites. Sia ate with a relaxed, sensual grace, her hazel eyes occasionally flicking towards me with a warm, curious glint. And Sera… Sera ate with the focused attention of a leader, but her shoulders were finally, truly relaxed. The immense burden she had been carrying alone was now shared.
I, however, was quiet. The words from the diary echoed in my mind, a silent promise I had made to a ghost. The quest to find 'Mia' was a heavy, nebulous weight, a problem with too many unknown variables. But I was an engineer. I knew how to solve impossible problems. You start by securing your base of operations.
Sera noticed my focused silence. "You're quiet this morning, Satvik," she said, her voice gentle. "Are you okay?"
I looked up from my bowl and gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "I'm okay," I said. "Just… making a plan."
Sia, who was sitting next to me, leaned in a little closer, her golden blonde ponytail brushing my shoulder. "A plan?" she purred, her voice a low, musical hum. "Ooh, I like a man with a plan."
I focused on my bowl, a familiar warmth creeping up my neck. "The monster meat won't last forever," I said, my voice all business to hide my fluster. "We need a long-term, stable food source. And this cottage… we can make it better. Safer."
After breakfast, I led them outside to the small, hidden garden. "This is a miracle," I said, gesturing to the vibrant plants. "But it's too small. We need to expand it. And we need a better water source than just carrying buckets from the stream."
I picked up a stick and began to draw in the dirt, the old instincts of a professor explaining a complex system to his students taking over. "The stream is our greatest asset. If we dig a small channel from that bend, right here, we can divert some of the water to run alongside the garden. An irrigation ditch. It will keep the soil watered constantly."
The four sisters stared at the diagram in the dirt. I could see the concept clicking in their minds.
"The water… would just come to us?" Vesper asked, her crimson eyes wide with wonder.
"Exactly," I said.
Eve, ever the pragmatist, immediately saw the value. "And we would have a source of fresh water right by the cottage, for drinking and washing, without having to expose ourselves by going to the stream," she added, her crimson eyes glinting with tactical approval. "It's a good plan."
Sera, the leader, clapped her hands together, a look of renewed purpose on her face. "Alright," she said. "What do you need us to do?"
What followed was the most productive and, strangely, the happiest day of my new life. We worked as a team, a true family. Eve, with her incredible, athletic strength, took on the task of digging the main channel, her muscles flexing under her pale skin as she moved earth with an efficiency that would have shamed any construction worker from my old world. She didn't complain; she simply worked, her respect for me growing with every shovelful of dirt, a silent acknowledgment of a plan that was both clever and practical.
Sera, the responsible one, organized the effort. She helped Eve with the digging, cleared the new patch of land for the expanded garden, and directed her younger sisters with a calm, easy authority. She and I worked side-by-side for a time, falling into a comfortable rhythm, a silent understanding passing between us. We were the two pillars holding up this new family.
Vesper was in her own personal heaven. This was her domain. Once the land was cleared, she took charge of the planting, her usual timidity melting away, replaced by a quiet, joyful confidence. Her hands moved through the soil with a lover's care. "This one likes the shade," she would whisper, placing a delicate seedling near the edge of the forest. "Oh, and this one's roots need a lot of room to be happy, so we'll give it a corner all to itself." She moved with a gentle grace, a shy, happy smile never leaving her face. She was a nurturer, and here, surrounded by her beloved plants, she was finally able to flourish.
And Sia… Sia was the heart of the operation. She brought us cups of cool water from the stream, her presence a welcome and distracting breeze. At one point, as I was bent over, checking the angle of the ditch, she came over and gently wiped a smudge of dirt from my cheek with her thumb.
"Working hard, Satvik?" she asked, her hazel eyes sparkling with playful amusement. "Don't worry, I'll make sure our big, strong engineer doesn't overheat." The casual, intimate gesture sent a jolt straight through me, and I was sure my face was the color of the tomatoes in the garden.
By late afternoon, the ditch was complete. A gentle, steady stream of crystal-clear water now flowed from the stream, running alongside our newly planted and expanded garden. It was a marvel of simple, effective engineering.
But I wasn't done. I gathered Sera and Eve, the two hunters of the family. "Your snares are good," I began, "but they rely on luck. We can do better."
I sketched another diagram in the dirt, this time of a spring-loaded trap, using a bent sapling for tension and a simple trigger mechanism. I explained the principles of potential and kinetic energy, of leverage and force multiplication.
Eve was skeptical at first. "My snares work just fine," she said, her arms crossed.
"Yours work if a rabbit happens to step in exactly the right spot," I countered. "This one," I said, pointing to the diagram, "creates a larger trigger area. And it's faster. The animal will have no time to react."
Sera, more open-minded, was intrigued. "Show us," she said.
We built one together. Eve, with her sharp, analytical mind, was the one who asked the most intelligent questions. "But what if the animal is too heavy?" she asked, pointing to the trigger stick. "Won't this part just break?"
"It might," I admitted. "So we need to use Shatterwood for the trigger. And we can adjust the tension of the sapling based on the kind of prey we're targeting."
Her respect for my mind, not just my mysterious strength, was visibly growing. We set up three of the new traps in the surrounding woods, a quiet confidence settling over us. We weren't just surviving anymore. We were innovating.
As the sun began to set, casting long, golden shadows across our new farm, the sisters went inside to prepare for the evening. But I had one last project. I sat on the cottage steps, the massive, leathery hide of the Carrion Strider laid out before me. It was tough, almost unworkable, but it was a resource I couldn't ignore.
I took one of the sharpest talons we had saved and a small, hard piece of bone. For over an hour, I worked with a single-minded focus, carefully, painstakingly, boring a tiny, perfect hole through the end of the bone sliver. Then, using some of the monster's own dried sinew, I threaded it through. I had made a crude but effective needle and thread.
The sisters had gathered by the doorway, watching me in silence. My focus was so intense, so different from when I was directing them in the garden or explaining the traps. This was not the work of a provider or a protector. This was the work of a man lost in his passion.
"What are you making now, Satvik?" Sia finally asked, her voice soft. "Another secret weapon?"
I looked up from my work, the crude bone needle held carefully in my fingers. I looked at the massive expanse of premium leather before me, my mind already seeing the elegant lines of boots, the protective curves of a breastplate, the stylish cut of a jacket. A true, genuine smile spread across my face.
"Something better," I said.