The cairn changed the air. It was as if a pressure valve had been released. The weight of the past, given form and a place of honor, no longer pressed so heavily on the present. Work resumed with a renewed, quieter purpose. The settlement's focus turned inward, to the necessities of survival that went beyond shelter and water. The larder, stocked with preserved goods from Aethelburg and foraged roots from the valley, was dwindling. They needed meat.
The forest surrounding The Wellspring was old and deep, a thick blanket of pine and iron-oak that climbed the slopes of the mountain. It was full of life—the scuttling of hares, the flutter of grouse, the distant, challenging call of stags. It was also full of silence and secrets, a domain that belonged neither to the miners of the deep earth nor to the star-watchers of the open sky.
