By the time I reached two and a half years old, life in the settlement had settled into a comfortable rhythm.
Morning usually began with the sound of wood being chopped somewhere in the distance. The echo of axes striking trees traveled easily through the quiet forest, mixing with the rustling of leaves and the distant calls of birds.
Inside the cabin, the day always started the same way.
The hearth fire crackled softly while my mother prepared food. The smell of boiling herbs and cooked grains drifted through the air, slowly pulling me from sleep.
"Kaelo, wake up."
Rina's voice was gentle, though I could hear the hint of laughter beneath it.
"You sleep like a bear."
I rubbed my eyes and sat up slowly on the small bedding mat near the wall. The motion was still a little clumsy, but far more controlled than it had been months ago.
My body had grown stronger.
Walking had become natural, running was no longer impossible, and my hands were finally coordinated enough to grab and hold small objects without dropping them every few seconds.
Progress, even if slow, was steady.
Across the room, Haran sat near the hearth sharpening one of his tools.
The scraping sound of metal against stone filled the quiet cabin.
"You're up," he said without looking at me.
His tone carried the calm certainty of someone who had already noticed me moving before I even spoke.
I climbed to my feet and shuffled closer, curiosity pulling my attention toward the blade he was sharpening.
"What is it?"
"A knife," he replied simply.
"I know that," I said, frowning slightly. "But what kind?"
Haran finally glanced up.
A small smile appeared beneath his beard.
"Curious again?"
I shrugged.
He held the blade up for me to see.
"It's for carving," he explained. "Wood doesn't shape itself."
The blade gleamed faintly in the firelight.
I watched carefully as he tested the edge against a small piece of timber. With a gentle push, the blade shaved away a thin curl of wood.
Efficient.
Controlled.
Every movement had purpose.
Watching him work had become one of my favorite ways to learn. Even simple tools revealed something about how people here lived.
And the more I observed, the clearer it became.
This clan valued practicality above everything else.
Tools were repaired rather than replaced. Food was gathered, hunted, or grown nearby. Nothing seemed to come from outside the forest unless absolutely necessary.
Travel beyond the settlement happened occasionally, but rarely.
Whenever those trips were mentioned, the conversations always became quieter.
More cautious.
I noticed that pattern long ago.
But today my thoughts were occupied by something else entirely.
The red glow.
I had seen it several more times during the past months.
Sometimes in my father's eyes. Sometimes in others'.
It never lasted long—just a brief flicker, like a reflection of firelight where no fire existed.
At first I wondered if it was some trick of lighting.
But eventually I realized something.
It only happened when emotions ran high.
Anger.
Fear.
Excitement.
Strong feelings.
The glow appeared for only a moment, then vanished again as quickly as it had come.
No one ever mentioned it.
Which meant either it was normal…
Or deliberately ignored.
"Father," I said slowly.
"Hm?"
"Why do people here stay in the forest?"
The knife paused mid-motion.
Haran glanced at me again, his expression thoughtful.
"Because this is our home."
"That's not what I meant."
He raised an eyebrow.
"You're asking difficult questions for someone your age."
"I'm curious."
He studied me for a moment longer before returning his attention to the knife.
"Curiosity isn't a bad thing," he said. "But some answers come with time."
That wasn't really an answer.
Still, I didn't push further.
Two years of observation had already taught me something important.
Adults rarely explained things children weren't meant to know yet.
Pushing too hard only made them suspicious.
And suspicion was the last thing I needed.
Instead, I focused on learning what I could through observation.
Which, as it turned out, was more than enough.
Later that afternoon, I wandered outside while my parents worked inside the cabin.
The settlement was quiet at this hour.
Most adults were busy with work, leaving the open spaces between the cabins mostly empty.
Except for the children.
Several of them were gathered near the edge of the clearing, chasing each other between the trees.
They looked slightly older than me—perhaps three or four years old.
One of them noticed me watching.
"You're Haran's kid," he said.
His voice carried the blunt confidence children often had.
I nodded.
"Kaelo."
"I'm Jiro."
He pointed to the others around him.
"Come play."
For a moment I hesitated.
Social interaction hadn't been particularly important to me during the first two years. Observation had been far more productive.
Still…
Understanding people was just as important as understanding the environment.
So I walked toward them.
Children, I quickly discovered, were far less complicated than adults.
Their games were simple—running, climbing, throwing sticks, chasing each other between trees.
No hidden meanings.
No cautious conversations.
Just energy.
A lot of energy.
By the time the sun began setting behind the trees, I had learned something new.
This clan was stronger than it looked.
Even the children moved with surprising coordination. Climbing trees, balancing on fallen logs, sprinting across uneven ground—things that would have been difficult for most children back in my previous life.
Here, it seemed normal.
Which meant the adults were likely even stronger.
As I sat on a fallen log catching my breath, Jiro plopped down beside me.
"You're weird," he announced.
I blinked.
"That's not very polite."
"You watch too much," he said, pointing at my face. "Most kids just run."
He wasn't wrong.
But that habit was unlikely to change.
"Watching helps you learn," I replied.
He shrugged.
"Running is more fun."
Perhaps.
But fun wasn't my primary goal anymore.
As the evening light faded through the forest canopy, I looked around the small settlement again.
The cabins.
The forest.
The people moving quietly through their routines.
This place was peaceful.
Simple.
But beneath that calm surface, I could feel something else.
Secrets.
Small ones, perhaps.
But secrets nonetheless.
And eventually…
I intended to uncover every one of them.