By the time my legs and back ache in that deep, satisfied way that says, “You’re going to regret stairs tomorrow,” we’ve changed the way the mountain’s heart bleeds into the clan’s cistern.
The flow from the spring is different now. Slower, forced through the gaps between our chosen stones before it can race down the tunnel. The worst of the red film clings to the rock barrier, trapped by the charcoal and sand before it can stream into the outflow.
It’s not perfect. But it’s better.
I can feel it in the way Sarven’s shoulders don’t tense quite as much near the new path of the water.
“Good,” he says simply.
We’re all too tired for speeches.
We pack up what we brought: tools, firestones we didn’t use, a few samples of the flora Erika insisted on sampling for later analysis. My shoes squelch with every step as we file back into the tunnels, leaving the heart-cavern behind.
The bathing chamberin the main cavern smells like those strange scales we use for soap.
By the time we slog back in, limp with fatigue, Haroth and the others have been busy. Baskets are strung along the inflow channels, dark with wet firestone dust and sand.
The mental background of the clan is tense, and now, as we step out of the tunnel into the main space, that intensity spikes. Everyone turns to look, questions flaring, and then, as their eyes take in the fact that we are all upright and not dead, that tension ripples into something else.
Cautious anticipation.
Kol is already there, watching the trickle from the new arrangement of channels. Sarven and I head for the closest inflow where a basket is catching the newly diverted water.
It runs through the filter in a steady stream, clear as it falls into the stone basin below. I crouch, joints protesting, and dip the drinking ladle in.
Old instincts make me hesitate for a fraction of a second.
“Sample first,” I mutter, more to appease my inner lab tech than anything else.
We don’t have proper analyzers here, but we have enough: my body and Sarven’s nose. Between us, we’re a decent canary in a carbon-filtered coal mine.
I straighten and hold the ladle near Sarven.
He steps closer, expression going intense.
Earlier, just being close to the unfiltered water had made him bristle. Now, standing half a meter from this ladle, he closes his eyes briefly.
The bond lets a whisper of his sensory input bleed through.
“Cold.”
I nod. The heat from the source hasn’t bled down this far yet. The mountain is cooling it before it reaches us.
His jaw unclenches. “Better,” he says quietly. “Much.”
My shoulders sag in relief. “If we boil this, I think we can probably actually have drinkable water.”
Kol steps forward. “You say the water is safe?”
“Safe-ish,” I hedge, because overselling anything on this planet feels like tempting fate. “Safe enough. Filtered and thenboiled, it should be okay to drink. The worst of the bad stuff is getting stuck up there now.” I jerk my chin in the approximate direction of the heart-cavern. “We’ll need to watch it. But…we bought some time.”
We bought ourselves time.
Kol is quiet for a long heartbeat.
Then he looks down into the cistern, watching the water pour in.
His hand falls lightly to the rim of the stone basin, claws splayed.
