The camp had changed significantly since Istroama had left on his Imp hunt.
Central to the changes was the fire pit. Previously a vague oval of loose stone and sand, those materials had been gathered up and fused into a solic mass in the form of a low circular wall, with a larger semicircle bracketing it a meter away. The tops of the walls seemed to be without seam or join, pleasantly smooth to the touch.
Beyond that, it appeared four Symeoncanes had been planted in the soil and grown to enormous size before having the tops cleanly removed. They were both the size and general shape of barrels, but the wooden substance of them had seemingly been turned into stone.
Finally, the crude A-frame was gone, and in its place was a cluster of four Lasle trees of equal height and girth. About a third of a meter off the ground they supported a wooden platform, with another platform on a slant about two meters above that. The whole was festooned with vines of Istroama Peppers, full and lush with fruit.
“Well, this is exciting and new. What is it?”
Symeon swept around the campsite as if he was presenting fabulous prizes to a lucky contestant. “Fire pit! Now we don’t need to worry so much about losin’ control of the fire. Well, mostly.” Symeon peered at the pit with a speculative look in his eye. “I’m thinkin’ about replacin’ it with an in-ground fire hole, bit more work ta clean but less smoke ‘n sparks. Still! Easy! I just shaped all the rocks ‘n muck with Earth and fused it all with Fire ‘n more Earth, ‘n slapped the whole mess with a dose of Inertia just in case. That’s the trick, Istroama! I can’t make anything big happen in the moment, but I can just keep goin’ ‘n goin’!”
Symeon continued past the fire, gesturing with great sweeps at the stone barrels. “These over here are my water barrels. Took some Symeoncanes, grew ‘em with Earth, Water ‘n Presence, then killed ‘em stone dead with Earth ‘n Absence. HA! Stone dead! It’s funny because I petrified ‘em! Get it?”
“Not in the least, but I’m happy that you’re happy. So. Water barrels. They do something with water?”
“Naw, yeah, we can use ‘em to catch rain, or store water. Whatever. I can clean ‘em ‘n boil ‘em whenever it’s needed, so I figure we might as well have ‘em right here. Then there’s the shelter! Look at that, Istroama! Isn’t that somethin’?”
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“It certainly is a thing. I quite like the fruity bits.”
“The Istroama Peppers. Naw, yeah, I said it ya smug goof. So, the shelter! I grew these trees just like the Symeoncanes, but without the whole turnin’ ‘em into stone thing. Best bit is I grew those platforms from the trees! It’s all one big livin’ hut! I wanted walls too, but I haven’t really worked out how ta do gaps in ‘em. Wasn’t sure about usin’ the vines as a substitute, but I went with it in the end, obviously. I figure anything that might be drawn ta the peppers either isn’t a threat, or if it was a threat it’d be comin’ for us regardless. So we’re off the ground ‘n the roof is solid!”
“Much improved, friend Symeon, much improved! Does this mean we can open the Chrysalises now?”
“I’d say we can pop a couple open tomorrow, especially if ya get yer magic workin’. That means no sleep fer ya tonight!”
“I’m quite alright with that. Horrible stuff, sleep.”
“Hmm. Weird that I don’t feel tired myself. Here I am, up ‘n at ‘em. Must be the stress or somethin’ keepin’ me wound up.”
Both men had settled onto the semicircle bench around the fire pit. Symeon used a thin stream of Momentum to move random scraps of wood from the pile, floating them leisurely through the intervening space to drop into the pit. Istroama watched this process with an undisguised look of longing. “Ah, let it be that magic comes to me on the morrow”, Istroama sighed. “Now, why only two rescues? Surely you can have sufficient shelter for more made over the day?”
Symeon carefully kept his hands down, despite the unconscious urge to snap his fingers or point as he worked Fire into a hotspot that caught the wood aflame. The hotspot dropped, and the mundane fire carried on, making a merry little blaze. “Problem is, when ya came out of that Chrysalis thing, ya were a total mess. I had ta carry ya outta there, ‘n after that I had ta help ya with the whole ‘not bein’ able to fly’ shapeshifty thing. I think one-on-one is the best way ta deal with it. If it works right, we’ll be able ta let four out the next day, ‘n eight after that, ‘n what’s left the day after that. That said, all bets are off if ya can’t get yer magic workin’. Water’s easy enough to boil with magic, but I dunno if I can feed that many people even if I’m grownin’ peppers ‘n nuts nonstop.”
“I see. So how can I help, friend Symeon?”
“Well, I can’t make somethin’ outta nothin’. I need more seeds, more water ‘n more earth. Can’t pull it all out of the area around camp, can’t be buildin’ on a bunch of ditches and pits. We should probably fill in the holes we’ve already dug before one of us snaps an ankle. Naw, yeah, just keep workin’ until… I dunno what we’d call it. Sunset? The nightly eclipse?”
“Labor until dark. Understood.”
“Don’t worry, Istroama, I’ll be right there with ya.”