The report from Jorik and Ren about the moving ground and faint light near the scarred earth depression settled over the village like a sudden, chilling fog. While the immediate decision was to avoid the area, the knowledge of the strange phenomenon lingered, weaving itself into the fabric of their daily lives. The scarred earth, already a place of unease and reverence due to its connection to the Old Ones, now felt more actively… alive.
Discussions around the fire became more hushed when the topic turned to the depression. The elders reiterated the old stories, tales of the earth groaning and shifting when the Old Ones were angered or when their power stirred. The faint glow described by Ren was interpreted as a manifestation of that ancient energy. A new layer of superstition was added to the practical caution about the area. Even the necessary foraging trips for medicinal plants near the scar were now undertaken with greater haste and a palpable sense of trepidation.
Elias listened to these discussions, his mind wrestling with the villagers' interpretations. Moving earth and light – on Earth, this would point to seismic activity, perhaps related to volcanic forces or tectonic shifts. The scarred depression itself could be an impact crater, and such events could have long-lasting geological consequences. But he couldn't dismiss the villagers' beliefs entirely. This world was clearly not Earth. Magic existed, powerful creatures roamed the forests, and artifacts of impossible durability lay buried in the ground. Perhaps the 'Old Ones' were not just myth, but beings whose actions had indeed shaped the very geology of the planet.
He continued his quiet study of the dark metal panel by the entrance. Its presence felt more significant now. Was it connected to the scarred earth? Was it a piece of whatever had caused the impact, or perhaps a tool left behind by the Old Ones? He still couldn't decipher its patterns or understand its composition, but he spent time near it, observing how the light played on its surface, how it felt beneath his touch. It remained an enigma, a silent link between the village's present and the world's deep, mysterious past.
Life in the village, however, had to continue. The increased efficiency brought by the hard wood tools meant that tasks were completed more quickly, leaving more time for other activities. The defenses were largely complete, a sturdy palisade and trench encircling the village, providing a sense of security that allowed for a focus beyond immediate survival.
Borin continued to work with the hard wood, crafting new tools and weapons. He was also still experimenting with the creature's hide plates, trying to find a way to work the incredibly tough material. He had managed to drill small holes in some of the thinner plates using a combination of persistent scraping with the sharpest stone points and a lot of patience. This allowed him to lash the plates onto wooden shields, creating a layer of nearly impervious protection. He dreamed of creating armor, of covering warriors in this tough hide, but shaping it into flexible pieces remained beyond his capabilities.
The village women continued to refine their weaving and dyeing skills, producing beautiful and functional textiles. They began to trade some of these items with Zarthus's tribe during their increasingly regular visits. The trade relationship, cautiously initiated, was slowly growing, built on mutual benefit and the exchange of goods and knowledge. Zarthus's people brought hard wood, unique dried fruits, and sometimes, news of other areas they had traveled through – whispers of larger settlements, of different landscapes, of strange phenomena they had encountered.
These exchanges further expanded the villagers' understanding of the wider world. It was a world of diverse landscapes, different peoples, and unknown wonders and dangers. The village was no longer an isolated pocket; it was becoming a node in a larger network, however informal.
One afternoon, while Elias was helping the children practice drawing maps in the dirt near the edge of the clearing, a low rumble echoed through the ground. It wasn't the familiar sound of a ground shaker; it was deeper, more resonant, and it seemed to come from the direction of the scarred earth depression.
The villagers froze, their heads snapping towards the sound. The children stopped their drawing, their eyes wide with fear. The air grew still, the usual forest sounds momentarily silenced.
The rumbling continued for a few moments, a low, unsettling vibration that they could feel in their feet. It was followed by a faint, pulsing glow that seemed to emanate from the direction of the scarred earth, visible even in the bright afternoon light, just as Ren had described. The glow pulsed a few times, a soft, cold light against the green of the forest, before fading.
The rumbling stopped. The silence that followed was heavy, filled with unspoken fear and awe. The villagers looked at each other, their faces pale. The earth near the scarred depression was not just a place of ancient power; it was a place where that power was still active.
Kaelen, his face grim, spoke in a low voice. "The Old Ones… their power stirs."
The event, brief but undeniable, reinforced the decision to avoid the scarred earth. It was a place of unpredictable forces, a place best left undisturbed. The villagers returned to their tasks, but with a renewed sense of unease. The world outside their palisade walls was not just filled with known dangers like beasts and potentially hostile tribes; it was also a world of mysterious, active forces that they did not understand. The sounds of the village resuming its work were a determined counterpoint to the unsettling silence left by the earth's strange groaning.