"Will this really hold the walls together?" A boy complained, his skin a light cyan as he slapped the Mortar on the wooden walls of the rebuilt building.
The mixture squelched under his palm, its damp gray paste clinging to splintered planks still reeking of sap and river-mud. His shaggy black hair clung to his temples in sweat-darkened strands, his skinny frame hunched as if braced against the weight of the sagging structure.
A soft sigh passed his lips before he took a step back, heels sinking into sun-softened earth, and admired his handiwork: globs of mortar bulged between uneven boards, slick and glistening like wet clay.
Though the boy's heart fell as he noticed the mortar drip down the walls slowly, appearing more soft than before. Rivulets oozed downward, carving glistening trails through the dust-coated wood, while the midday sun glared relentlessly, baking the air into a stifling haze.
