Technically speaking, I didn’t need to construct so many. Ten huts would be enough to house our entire tribe (badgers not included), plenty of whom already had accommodation in the form of our existing tents. But the new huts were sturdier, homelier, and my instincts said that making them available to all would do wonders for morale, not to mention stamina regeneration. I estimated we’d have all ten completed within a fortnight.
By which point we’ll be halfway through our journey.
I brushed off that worrying thought and focused instead on the present. Ket was perched on Coll’s shoulder, and the pair of them looked to be eying the new structure with as much satisfaction as I felt, though I could sense the sprite was unimpressed with its aesthetics.
Yes, the tent’s frame resembled a spider even larger than Binky, but that was just a coincidental part of the design. With the distribution of weight and placement of the pulleys, the whole contraption could be collapsed in moments. When pressure was applied to each leg, the segmented frame would fold in on itself, allowing the rolls of thatch to easily be removed, and the remaining frame to be folded and packed onto the wagons. It would make the process of making and breaking camp each day dramatically quicker, giving us more time on the march. More time on the march meant more distance traveled each day, which meant a better chance of us completing the exodus on time.
All things considered, I was more than satisfied with our progress. Barely a week into the journey and already we were stronger than when we’d started in many ways. The gnomes’ hardiness and ability to adapt were helping them not only endure this exodus, but to thrive on it.
I almost found myself wishing we could continue in this way indefinitely. There was a certain allure to the nomadic lifestyle; without roots, without a stable base. It somehow felt like there was less to lose. It was surprisingly freeing.
Then I remembered what would happen if we failed to establish a new base before the exodus timer ran out.
I’d lose what limited abilities I still had—Double Sight among them—as well as those I was set to regain when I once again got access to my mana, like Creation.
Hell, I might even lose access to the Augmentary’s vocation interface. I’d only been taking advantage of Adjure’s benefits for a short time, but already I couldn’t imagine being without it.
The solution was simple: make sure that didn’t happen.
Time remaining for Exodus: 33 days, 4 hours, 49 minutes
The timer blinked obnoxiously in the corner of my vision, a constant reminder of what we were up against.
It won’t happen, I told it. I’ll make sure of it.
Thirty-Six
Risk and Reward
Corey
As Bekkit had pointed out, Exodus might prohibit me from leveling, but there was nothing to stop my denizens from continuing to grow. And grow they did. Day by day, the craftsmen became more skilled, the workers more efficient, and overall morale was visibly increasing.
Despite this, I found myself growing anxious. The gnomes were advancing steadily, yes, but progress on our journey was less obvious. The environment was changing, but very subtly. Where before the ground had been relatively flat (aside from pesky tree roots that tripped feet and snapped axles), now we were on a definite downward incline. The trees were changing, too. The bright green-orange leaves and molting canopy of the furynut forest were gradually giving way to coniferous spruce and gray-barked cedar. The trees were packed together much more closely here, making the ground damper and the path darker. I found it comforting, though the gnomes seemed somewhat less enthusiastic.
Despite my hopes and the scouts’ efforts, we’d yet to find any sign of entrances to potential new homes. Benin and Bekkit both assured me we were still on target to reach the mountain area as planned, but still. It would be nice to have found a backup along the way. Especially considering we were almost a quarter of the way through our allotted time.
Has it really been nine days already?
Though we were making good time, I still felt anxious. The further we traveled, the further behind we left the certainty of our previous home. Before us lay only the great unknown. What if we couldn’t find a new base in time?
We should try to increase our pace even further just to make sure.
As though the universe responded to my thoughts, a potential solution soon presented itself. We were only a couple of hours into the tenth day’s march when Bekkit spotted something interesting.
“Tracks,” he said helpfully when I arrived at his side to investigate.
They were, indeed, tracks.
What had made them was no mystery. Even I recognized the five-clawed imprints as badger tracks, albeit from a larger individual than the creatures we were familiar with.
Usually, this was something I’d ignore. A lone badger probably wasn’t worth expending our energy on. But our own badgers had proved invaluable to the exodus’s success. Having them pull the largest wagons was the only reason we’d come so far, so fast. Without them we’d be unable to carry half the supplies we had, and the increased burden on the gnomes—most of whom were already encumbered—would have slowed our progress considerably.
Think how much quicker we’d be able to move if we had five badgers to share the load instead of four…
“I’m not sure this is really necessary, Corey,” said Ket when I told her my idea. “We’re doing just fine with Bruce and the others.”
“No, the young Core is correct,” Bekkit said. “We should pursue anything that can increase our efficiency.”
I sensed Ket’s frustration, along with a tinge of worry. “But it’s just one badger. And maybe it won’t want to be recruited. What if it becomes violent? Is it really worth risking the scouts?”
I knew what she really meant was “Is it worth risking Shanky?”
“Back in the Grotto you told me that we can’t coddle our favorites.
