Fang turned away from the garden and started gathering branches, thinking about their next steps. It was strange. Despite the harsh situation they were in, there was something comforting about this simple task. The soil, the plants, the sun.
It all felt like a reminder of something better. Something normal.
He glanced at Smoke again, whose tendrils of shadow were already at work, its form disappearing into the earth and reappearing in a flash whenever it caught its prey.
"Let's make this garden something worth protecting," Fang murmured to himself.
Isgram raised an eyebrow. "That's an oath?"
Fang gave a small grin, one that didn't quite touch his eyes. "We all need something to fight for, don't we?"
The forest seemed to breathe with them, the tension that had been brewing in the cave and the past night's conversation softening, if only for a moment.
Three hours passed in a blur.
The sun had climbed higher in the sky, its golden rays now illuminating the forest floor through the tree tops above. The air felt warmer; the heavy dampness of the rain in the last couple of days was replaced by a refreshing breeze.
Fang had worked alongside Smoke, using the creature to hunt down and eliminate the pests that lived in the garden. The makeshift fence, crafted from branches and vines, had begun to take shape, and the garden was starting to look like a real thing.
Isgram, meanwhile, had gone off to forage. Fang hadn't paid much attention to the time passing.
He'd been too focused on his work, but as the hours dragged on, he could feel the familiar hunger rising. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and paused to stretch, reflecting on their progress.
The garden was looking decent now. The potatoes were sturdy, their leaves standing tall.
'This forest is definitely magical. To think something would grow so fast and so well? This is the result of magic for sure.'
The herbs had spread nicely, a few reaching out of their little borders, but it is ok for now. The fence was nearly complete, though Fang knew he'd have to reinforce some of the sections to keep the larger animals out. It was a humble start, but it felt good as it only took a couple of days to set it up.
The sound of crunching leaves broke his focus. He looked up just as Isgram appeared through the trees, his arms full of freshly harvested plants and fruit.
"Look what I found," Isgram said, a grin on his face. His usually gruff demeanor softened, a rare flicker of satisfaction in his eyes.
Fang raised an eyebrow, but his smile was widening by the second. "What did you bring me? You didn't rob an entire orchard, did you?"
Isgram chuckled, lowering the bundle of plants onto the ground. "Radishes, onions, and apples," he said with a bit of pride. "Found a little tree near a stream. Apples aren't the best, but they'll do for now."
Fang eyed the bundle. The radishes and onions were fresh, their earthy scent mixing with the air. The apples, while looking a bit tired, were still a welcome change. He ran his fingers over the rough skin of one, considering it for a moment before he shrugged.
"Not bad. Not bad at all."
He grabbed an apple and took a bite, savoring the sweetness.
It was still food, and that made It a blessing.
Isgram started setting the vegetables down near the garden. "I figured the onions could help keep the critters away from the plants," he said, wiping his hands on his shirt.
"Radishes will grow fast. We can use 'em to fill our bellies while the rest of the crops catch up."
Fang nodded, taking another bite of his apple. "Good thinking. I was starting to get hungry, anyway."
"I thought you might be," Isgram said with a grin. "We're gonna have a bit of variety soon. Maybe we won't starve to death after all."
Fang laughed, his laugh leisurely and genuine. "That would be a nice change of pace."
"We can plant the radishes and onions along the edge of the garden, where the critters are most likely to get curious. Should we plant the apple seeds?"
Isgram scratched his chin, staring at the small pile of apples that had been gathered. "Could be a good idea. You know, apple trees take a while to mature. But if this place is as magical as you think, maybe they'll grow faster."
Fang nodded. The idea of having apple trees in the garden, something to break up the of their usual meals, felt like a small victory in itself.
"Let's give it a try, then," Fang said, a light smile crossing his face. "At least if the trees don't work, we've got plenty of other plants to fall back on." He set to work, carefully slicing open a couple of apples and extracting the seeds.
Isgram, ever the practical one, began digging small holes around the garden's edge, setting the radishes and onions into the soil. "You're the one with all the weird powers, Fang. If you can't grow an apple tree here, we're in trouble. My fire magic is pretty useless in this matter."
Fang smirked but didn't answer. He focused on the task at hand, feeling the pulse of the earth under his hands as he planted the apple seeds on the edge of the clearing, just 100 meters from the garden.
There was a calmness in the simplicity of the work.
Meanwhile, Isgram finished planting the radishes and onions, dusting his hands off before kneeling beside Fang. "You know, I was thinking," he said, his voice less gruff than usual, "it's not the worst thing we're doing here. The world might be falling apart, but here? Here we've got something growing."
Fang looked up, surprised by the rare hint of sentiment in Isgram's voice. "We're just trying to survive," he said quietly, but there was something more to it now.
"Yeah," Isgram said with a shrug. "But it's something, And I'll be damned if we can't make this last."
Fang nodded, pushing the last of the apple seeds into the earth. "We'll make it last."
He wiped his hands on his trousers and stood up, stretching his back.
The work wasn't done yet, but for the first time in what felt like a long while, Fang could see the beginnings of something that felt... normal. Even if it was just for a moment.
Smoke reappeared from the shadows, its tendrils of darkness forming and dissipating like smoke in the wind.
"Maybe it can help us water the plants," Fang mused aloud. "We've got the soil down. The garden's coming along. Now we just need to keep it alive.
Isgram laughed. "That thing's probably better at killing than helping plants grow."
Fang knelt beside Smoke, watching its shadowy tendrils twitch with anticipation. He pointed toward the freshly planted radishes and onions, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
"Go on," he said, keeping his voice calm and focused. "Help them grow. Use whatever magic you have."
Smoke stared at him.
Well... stared might be a generous word. Its glowing eyes blinked out of sync, and the shape of its body shifted like a lazy cloud caught in a breeze. One tendril reached toward a radish sprout… and promptly yanked it out of the ground, shaking it like a dead rat before dropping it, limp, back onto the soil.
Fang blinked. "...No. No, not that."
Smoke tilted its head and made a soft, wheezing noise.
It dove underground and popped up again next to the onion patch, wrapped itself around three of them, and squeezed. Dirt exploded outward as the seedlings were dragged half out of the soil like they'd offended it personally.
"Okay, definitely not that." Fang lunged forward and grabbed the little beast by the middle, lifting it like a misbehaving child. Smoke went limp in his arms, its tendrils dangling like wet noodles.
Isgram snorted behind him, arms crossed and thoroughly enjoying the show. "Told you. That thing's built for murder, not gardening."
"Yeah, I see that now," Fang muttered, brushing dirt off his hands and holding Smoke up to eye level.
"Listen to me, you tiny chaos engine. Grow. Not kill."
Smoke blinked again. One tendril stretched out and gently tapped Fang on the nose.
Fang sighed, setting it down beside a rock, far from the garden. "You're on hunting duty again. Go murder something that moves, alright?"
With a delighted flicker of light, Smoke dissolved into the ground and vanished into the forest, leaving behind a very violated-looking onion patch.
Isgram stepped up and bent down to replant the victims. "Well, at least it means the soil's loose," he said, half-laughing. "You ever try to train it?"
Fang shrugged. "Not really. It just… usually knows what I want. Guess gardening isn't part of its dark little instincts."
"Maybe next time try not giving vague spiritual commands to your murder rabbit."
Fang chuckled as he crouched beside him to help fix the damage. "Noted." He paused. "Still... if we ever need someone to intimidate a tomato plant, we've got the right monster."
Isgram barked out a short laugh.
"Yeah. Remind me to never let that thing near the carrots if we find some in the future."