The starship touched down on a frost-dusted field outside Willow Bend just as the first flurries of snow began to fall. The village was small—dozens of cottages with smoke curling from chimneys, a general store with a faded sign, and a white-painted schoolhouse at its center. But the schoolhouse's roof was easy to spot: patches of tar paper peeled away, shingles lay scattered on the ground, and a bucket sat beneath a dark stain on the front porch—proof of the leak.
A woman with graying hair and a woolen scarf wrapped around her neck hurried over, brushing snow from her coat. "You must be the travelers Elder Gao sent," she said, her voice warm despite the chill. "I'm Mrs. Bennett—the schoolteacher. The roof started leaking last month, and now with snow coming… if we don't fix it, the books will get wet, the desks will rot. The kids have been meeting in my cottage, but it's too small—they can barely fit around the table."
Xiao Ya looked up at the schoolhouse roof, her breath fogging in the air. She closed her eyes, her hands glowing faintly green, and nodded. "The pine trees on the edge of the village—their branches are strong, good for reinforcing the roof frame," she said. "And the moss growing on the trunks? It can seal small gaps—keeps water out, even in snow."
Mo Ying slung her toolbox over her shoulder, already walking toward the schoolhouse. "First, we'll tear off the old shingles and tar paper. Then we'll fix the rotted parts of the frame—Mrs. Bennett, do you have spare lumber? Lin Che and I can cut it to size."
Su Qing flipped open her Arcane Manual, pointing to a page of water-repellent runes. "I'll carve runes into the new shingles—they'll repel snow and rain, so the roof won't leak again. Even in a blizzard."
Mrs. Bennett's face lit up. "We have a shed with lumber—Mr. Henderson, the carpenter, left it before he moved. And the kids—they'll want to help! They've been asking every day if we can fix the schoolhouse."
True to her word, a group of children appeared minutes later—their cheeks pink from the cold, their boots crunching in the snow—crowding around the schoolhouse. "Can we carry shingles?" asked a boy with a knit cap pulled low. "Can I hold the nails?" a little girl added, holding up her tiny hands.
Lin Che laughed, handing the boy a stack of new shingles. "Careful with these—they're heavy. And you," he said to the girl, giving her a small handful of nails, "can give them to Mo Ying when she needs them."
The work began in earnest. Mo Ying and Lin Che climbed onto the roof, prying off old shingles and tossing them into a pile below. The kids scrambled to carry the old shingles to the shed, their laughter echoing through the village. Xiao Ya walked to the pine trees, her hands glowing green—soon, straight, sturdy branches fell gently to the ground, ready to reinforce the roof frame.
Su Qing sat on the schoolhouse porch, carving runes into new shingles with a small knife. Each rune glowed soft green as she finished it, warding off moisture. Mrs. Bennett brought out mugs of hot cocoa, passing them around—even the kids got small sips, their eyes lighting up at the sweetness.
By midday, the old roof was stripped bare, and the rotted frame pieces were replaced with Xiao Ya's pine branches. Mo Ying and Lin Che began nailing down new tar paper, then the rune-carved shingles—working quickly as the snow fell harder, sticking to their hair and coats.
"Almost done!" Mo Ying called down, hammering the last shingle into place. She stood up, brushing snow from her shoulders, and grinned. "No more leaks. This roof'll hold through anything."
The kids cheered, jumping up and down in the snow. Mrs. Bennett walked to the porch, looking up at the new roof with tears in her eyes. "Thank you," she said, her voice wobbly. "The kids—they love this schoolhouse. It's not just a building to them. It's where they learn, where they play… it's home."
That afternoon, the schoolhouse doors opened for the first time in weeks. The kids rushed inside, laughing as they sat at their desks—no more buckets, no more wet floors. Mrs. Bennett pulled a stack of books from a shelf, dusting them off, and smiled. "Today, we'll read about the Guardians," she said. "About how even small acts can help others."
The kids listened, wide-eyed, as she told the story—of the Forest Heart, the Mountain Core, the Sea Tear. Of a group of travelers who fixed seals, fought darkness, and now… fixed roofs. When she finished, the boy with the knit cap raised his hand. "Are those travelers like you?" he asked, looking at Lin Che and the others.
Lin Che nodded, smiling. "We try to be. Anyone can help—even kids. You helped us fix the roof today, didn't you?"
The kids nodded proudly, their chests puffed out.
That night, Mrs. Bennett hosted a dinner in the schoolhouse—she laid a cloth over one of the desks, and the villagers brought dishes: stew, bread, a pie made with dried berries. The snow fell softly outside, but inside, the fire crackled in the hearth, and the room was warm with laughter.
Before they left the next morning, Mrs. Bennett handed Lin Che a small, leather-bound book. "It's a journal," she said. "I wrote down stories from the village—about the kids, about the schoolhouse. Take it with you, and when you're tired, read it. Remember that what you do matters. To us, to the kids… to everyone."
Lin Che opened the journal—inside, the pages were filled with Mrs. Bennett's neat handwriting, and a drawing taped to the first page: the schoolhouse with a new roof, surrounded by stick-figure kids and travelers.
They climbed aboard the starship, waving goodbye. The kids stood in the snow, waving until the starship was out of sight. Mrs. Bennett held the schoolhouse door open, a smile on her face.
Inside the cabin, Xiao Ya flipped through the journal, stopping at the drawing. "We made them happy," she said, her voice soft.
Su Qing looked at Elder Gao's map, pointing to a village in the west. "Maplewood," she said. "Their gristmill's broken—they can't grind grain for winter bread. We should go."
Mo Ying nodded, adjusting the starship's controls. "Gristmills? I've fixed a bellows, bridge, sawmill, roof—gristmills are next. Piece of cake."
Lin Che held the journal in his hand, its leather cover warm. Beside it on the dashboard were the cedar bowl, the apple butter, the corn seeds, the iron key—each a memory, each a sign of hope. The Star Marrow on his wrist glowed softly, matching the light of the journal's pages.
This was their journey: not just fixing things, but fixing hearts. Not just saving villages, but inspiring kids to help others. It was quiet, it was small… but it was everything.
"Maplewood," he said. "Let's go."
The starship turned west, toward the setting sun. Snow fell outside, but inside, it was warm. Ahead, a new village waited. A new problem. A new chance to help.
And as always—they were ready.