r hands and shook her head. Without pow
d-fashioned way-pick up the axe or the manual hands
eight more trees. Her stoc
s first. Get
the chainsaw in her inven
cle felt like it had been replaced with concrete. She d
two minutes
track of time, lost track of everythin
clouds-she dragged the last log into the campfire's radius. It dissolved
red: W
ng, staring at the number in her invent
ad en
rom yesterday's trades, she had ev
lf upright and wal
panel, the "Upgrade" butto
imitive She
Stone x20, Coal x
ade: Wood x16, Stone
gra
a breath an
mmm
e heart of the campfire, swallowing ev
er. Just a sound like
s later, the
r eyes. And sto
asn't just a c
ntional-a proper firepit with a stone border for insulation, a pl
used to push back the cold within a six-fo
aling dark frozen soil underneath. In one corner, s
spun a
n crate, a small log
ough-hewn logs. Nothing fancy. But it was solid. Fou
and pushed open th
ave knocked his teeth out. Guys like him-useless themselves, but always r
messages e
, but people had found a workaround-usin
Great shape. Wanna see? Hit me with some
uy flexing in a m
athetic attitude. Dude was clearly strong enoug
bably assumed anyone who'd gathered that much wood m
s too, trying to flirt
ameless cut acros
ferent locations. But one thing was consistent: they all had tre
of dege
s to "Friends Only". Then she added a line to her tradi
Blessed
he noise drain away, and
ce upgrade
Sitting there, glowing fai
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