The repaired granary stood as a new kind of monument. It wasn't a cairn to the dead or a wellspring of life, but a testament to a living, breathing partnership with the land. Its stone base was solid, its wooden walls rose straight and true, and the air around it hummed with a quiet, contented stability. The settlement, having tuned the very earth, felt a confidence that bordered on reverence. They had faced an invisible problem and solved it with an invisible tool. They were learning the grammar of their new world.
The mountain, it seemed, decided to give them a lesson in vocabulary.
