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