Zulu and I were back at our building site as the morning sun kissed the world awake. We had one final task before us - the roof. It was a massive undertaking, as we needed to balance sturdy logs in a pattern that would offer both support and coverage. Then came the fired clay tiles. They were cumbersome and heavy, but they promised a protection from the elements that our tribe had never experienced before.

Working in tandem, we got into a rhythm. Hours passed, and by the time the sun began to dip, we were setting the last tile into place. Sweat dripped off our bodies, our muscles screamed in protest, but when we finally stepped back to survey our work, it was all worth it. The home was beautiful, its red clay walls standing firm against the backdrop of the setting sun.

The house was spacious, enough for five adults to lie down comfortably with some room to spare. There was a window at the front, allowing light to flood in and a clear view of the outdoors. A wooden door, fitted with a clay handle, made entry and exit easier.

Zulu, in his excitement, dashed into the house, his laughter echoing in the quiet evening. I followed him inside, my eyes drawn to the fireplace built against the back wall. The thought of a warm, cozy space during the harsh winters brought a smile to my face.

"Are we done, Tak?" Zulu asked, his eyes sparkling in anticipation. I looked around, taking in the fruit of our labor.

"Yes, Zulu," I said, my voice echoing slightly off the clay walls. "We are done."

As I spoke, my mind was already racing ahead. We could add more, I thought. Beds, perhaps. Our people were used to sleeping on the ground, but if we were moving forward, why not think of comfort too? However, I pushed that thought aside for the moment. For now, this was more than enough.

I watched Zulu scamper off into the fading light, his footsteps fast and eager as he went to fetch Maeve and our mother. I turned back to our creation, my heart filled with a strange sense of pride. This was not just a house, it was a symbol of progress, of a dream slowly turning into reality.

With a deep breath, I set off towards the heart of our tribe. My destination: Mako's dwelling. Mako was the unspoken leader of our tribe, a seasoned man whose wisdom and strength had held us together after Akara's passing. If anyone could see the potential of in these new homes, it would be him.

My footsteps grew heavier as I approached his dwelling. "Mako," I called out, my voice penetrating the hut walls. I was greeted with silence, and then a gruff voice inviting me in.

I found him sitting by the fire, his wrinkled hands carving intricate designs onto a piece of wood. "Tak," he greeted me, his eyes lighting up with interest. "What brings you here?"

I wasted no time. I told him about the house, about the potential it held. As I described the structure, the space it provided, and how it could revolutionize our way of living, Mako remained silent. His face, illuminated by the flickering fire, was impassive.

I finished my speech, feeling my heart pound in my chest. Mako took his time, digesting my words. Then, he stood up and simply said, "Show me."

As we made our way towards the new house, I could feel the curious glances of our tribe members. Word was spreading fast, whispers fluttering like leaves in the wind. By the time we reached the house, Zulu, Maeve, and Aisling had joined us. They stood in awe, marveling at the sight.

Mako, with a calculated gaze, studied the house. His eyes narrowed, scanning the structure, taking in every detail. He stepped inside, and I held my breath.

Moments passed, agonizingly slow. Then, Mako stepped out, his face devoid of any emotion. The suspense was overwhelming. The silence was broken by Mako's voice, filled with a grave intensity.

"This is good work, Tak," he said, his gaze steady on mine. "We can build on this."

In the faint glow of the setting sun, Mako and I stood before our recently completed dwelling, the heart of what I envisioned as a future community. I shared my thoughts with Mako, outlining a plan that had slowly taken shape in my mind.

"The Wulani and the Ashaya tribes need to merge," I stated boldly. Mako's eyes met mine, his gaze a question. "They're still living separately, Mako. We've come together under the direst circumstances and survived. Now it's time we thrived."

The seasoned man rubbed his chin thoughtfully, the firelight dancing in his brown eyes. "And what's your plan, Tak?"

I drew in a deep breath, steeling myself. "We build more houses, right next to each other. One row facing one direction, the other row facing the other direction. It'll bring the tribes closer, physically and symbolically."

Mako's gaze lingered on the house. "And the Wulani and Ashaya? You propose mixing them?"

"Yes," I answered, my gaze steady. "This division between the tribes...it only limits us. Together, we are stronger. We need to foster that unity, foster relationships. We need to be one tribe, not two coexisting ones."

There was a silence as Mako processed my words. I could see the gears turning behind his squinted eyes, the weight of decision bearing down on him. As a leader, his decisions shaped the lives of our people. He bore that responsibility with the grace of a seasoned warrior.

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Finally, he nodded. "It's an interesting proposal, Tak," he admitted, his voice gruff but not dismissive. "You're thinking ahead, which is what we need right now. I'll discuss this with Kiera."

Kiera. Wise, perceptive Kiera. The matriarch of the Wulani and one of the most respected voices in our merged tribes. If she approved of my idea, the others would likely follow.

"Thank you, Mako," I replied, my heart pounding with a blend of nervousness and excitement.

With a final, contemplative look at the house, Mako turned and began to walk away, back towards the heart of the community. As I watched him go, I couldn't help but feel a surge of hope. I was proposing drastic changes, and they might not all go smoothly. But change was necessary for growth, for progress.

As Mako retreated into the twilight, a thought occurred to me. Turning on my heels, I called out to him. "Mako, wait!"

He paused, looking back over his shoulder. The lingering sunlight cast long shadows, the details of his face obscured, but his curious gaze was clear.

"How's your pottery coming along?" I asked, my interest genuine. I remembered the fascination in his eyes when I first showed him the techniques I'd learned in my time travel, his hands expertly kneading the clay as he began creating various pots.

A laugh bubbled up from his chest, the sound warm and vibrant against the cool evening air. "Better than I expected," he admitted, his voice carrying back to me. "I've been making pots, all different shapes and sizes. The clay you brought is far easier to manipulate than the mud I was using."

A sense of satisfaction spread through me at his words. "That's great, Mako," I said, a grin curving my lips. "I'm glad it's working out for you."

His silhouette shifted, likely a nod of acknowledgment. "Molding the clay... it gives me peace, Tak. Time for thoughts. I appreciate you introducing it."

"I'm just glad I could help," I replied, my voice soft. "By the way, do you have any other plans in mind?"

There was a moment of silence before Mako spoke. "There's the defensive wall. It's been on my mind, but we're all stretched thin with our duties. And then there are these minor disputes between the Wulani and Ashaya members that need addressing."

His words hung heavy in the air between us. Leading was never an easy task, it was laden with challenges and a constant balancing act.

"That sounds like a lot," I conceded, shaking my head. It was not envy that filled me but understanding. I'd witnessed firsthand the pressures of leadership and the consequences of decisions.

Once more, his laughter filled the air, a rich sound that seemed to soften the weight of our conversation. "That it is, Tak," he admitted, a hint of amusement in his voice. "But we'll manage. We always do."

☽☽☽

As the morning light painted the sky with hues of orange and pink, I found my mother, Aisling, staring out the window of our new home, her gaze lost in the dawning day. I watched her for a moment, the soft light illuminating the contours of her face, before I finally broke the silence.

"What are you looking at, Mother?" I asked, my voice low and soft.

She turned her gaze towards me, her eyes softening. "Just watching," she answered simply, her eyes flickering back towards the view beyond the window. "This home you've built... it's sturdy. And even with this cool wind, the fireplace keeps us warm. It's good, Tak."

A flush of pride warmed my chest. "The idea... it just came to me," I admitted.

Her lips curled into a small, knowing smile. "Certainly didn't come from your father," she said, a playful tone in her voice. We both shared a quiet laugh, the sound echoing softly within the walls of our home.

"Always thinking of ways we can improve our lives," I said, my voice confident, my words honest.

"That's good," she said softly, her gaze turning back towards the window. "I hope that continues."

"So do I," I answered, leaning against the window frame beside her. "Today, I need to make more clay bricks."

She turned to me, her brow furrowed in curiosity. "Why?"

"So others can have homes," I explained, my voice steady.

She remained silent for a moment, her gaze thoughtful. "It's good that you're thinking of others," she began, her voice low. "But you can't do everything for them."

I blinked, taken aback. "What do you mean?" I asked, genuine confusion lacing my voice.

Aisling's gaze softened, her hand reaching out to grasp mine. "If you do everything for them, how will they learn and grow?" she asked. Her words, simple as they were, hit me like a stone. I had been so intent on pushing us forward, on making our lives better, I hadn't considered that in doing so, I may be hindering their ability to think and learn for themselves.

"I... I understand," I said, the realization sinking in.

Her smile returned, warm and comforting. "Good. And if you're building another home, Tak," she added, her grip on my hand tightening slightly. "Make it for you."

The warmth of the sun began to seep through the window, casting long shadows across our new home. Aisling was quiet, her gaze distant. As I watched her, a question bubbled up within me.

"Why should I build a home for myself, Mother?" I asked, my voice carrying a note of genuine curiosity.

She turned to face me, her green eyes reflecting the morning light. "You're getting older, Tak," she began, her voice gentle. "Soon you'll have a partner or partners of your own. This little home won't hold all of us forever."

Her words stirred something within me, a sense of anticipation for what the future might hold. I couldn't help but smile. "I'll work on it," I promised.

"There's no rush," she assured me, a small smile playing on her lips. "And if you're not going to gather clay for bricks, perhaps you should teach those who are interested in how to do it."

My brow furrowed in thought. "You mean let them build their own homes?"

She nodded, her gaze steady. "It could be a good learning experience. And who's to say they might not want a home exactly like ours? Maybe they want something different. No window, or no fireplace..."

I considered her words, weighing the wisdom within them. "I had hoped everyone would build their homes in the same area," I admitted.

"That's still possible," she said, her gaze softening. "But it's important they have the freedom to create something that feels like theirs."

"I think you're right," I said, a slow smile spreading across my face. "Do you know anyone who might be interested in learning?"

Her smile widened, her eyes twinkling. "There's quite a bit of talk about the home you built, Tak. I'm sure you'll find more than a few interested."

"I'll ask around," I promised.

She gave a satisfied nod, patting my hand gently. "Good. But for now, take some time to rest. You've been working hard."

"I will, Mother," I assured her as she stood, her hand lingering on my shoulder for a moment before she moved towards the door.

"And Tak," she added, pausing in the doorway to glance back at me. "Remember, no matter what changes, this is always home."

With that, she left, the quiet closing of the door leaving me alone in the sun-warmed room.