Traveling to ancient tribes to build infrastructure

The stone hoe smashed into the yellow-brown earth. It left behind a shallow white scratch. Nothing more.

The shock of the impact traveled up the wooden handle, vibrating painfully through Ariel's wrist. Her palms stung, the skin stretching tight over her bones.

She gritted her teeth. She raised the hoe again. She swung it down. Again. Again.

After a dozen strikes, her lungs were burning. She gasped for air, her chest heaving like a broken bellows.

A wave of dizziness hit her. Her vision went black for a second. She stumbled backward, her back hitting the rough stone wall of the shelter. She slid down, panting.

Elvin dropped the pile of rocks he was sorting. He was at her side in two strides. He grabbed her shoulder, steadying her.

He pried the hoe out of her grip. He looked at her hands. Two large, bloody blisters had formed on her palms, the skin torn and raw.

A flash of anger crossed Elvin's eyes. A dark, violent fury aimed at the cruel world that forced her to suffer like this.

"Sit," he ordered, his voice low and hard. "Rest."

He turned to face the stubborn patch of dirt. He gripped the handle of the hoe. Secretly, he channeled a thread of his silver wolf energy into the wood.

The hoe seemed to gain weight, becoming an extension of his arm. He swung it casually.

The hard, packed earth exploded. Chunks of dirt crumbled and flipped over like soft tofu.

Ariel sat on a rock, watching him. Her mouth fell open in surprise. He was moving so fast.

But every few swings, Elvin would stop. He would lean on the hoe, wiping sweat from his forehead, faking a harsh coughing fit. He made sure to look completely exhausted.

While his back was turned, Ariel stared at her torn palms. The pain was sharp, throbbing.

She closed her eyes, letting the sharp, throbbing pain ground her. She had survived worse in the old world. Her body had developed an incredible tolerance for pain, a stubborn resilience forged in the harsh wasteland. She tore off a clean strip from the hem of her shirt and tightly bound her raw palms, biting her lip to stifle a groan. It wasn't perfect, but it would stop the bleeding.

She stood up and walked over to the freshly turned soil. She scooped up a handful, closing her eyes. She let her senses probe the earth.

It was dead, but deep down, there was a tiny spark of life. It could be saved, but it would take hard, physical labor.

"Spread the shell powder," she instructed Elvin. "Evenly."

Elvin nodded. He grabbed a handful of the white dust and began to scatter it over the dark soil.

"Then go to the edge of the forest," Ariel added. "We need a lot of those broad-leaf vines, and any rotting leaves you can find under the mutated trees. We have to mix them in deeply to create a compost base."

Elvin picked up the hoe and walked toward the dark, mutated woods.

As soon as he was out of sight, Ariel dropped to her knees. She plunged both bound hands deep into the soil.

She didn't hold back this time. She used every ounce of her remaining strength to manually break apart the deepest, hardest clods of earth, mixing the scattered shell powder into the lower layers. Her muscles screamed, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she physically worked the dirt, relying purely on her old-world agricultural knowledge of deep tilling and soil aeration.

When she finished, Ariel collapsed. She lay on the ground, her clothes soaked with cold sweat, her body completely drained.

She looked up at the gray, smoggy sky. A real, bright smile spread across her face.

Heavy footsteps echoed in the distance. Ariel scrambled up. She grabbed a handful of dry grass and began wiping the dirt off her clothes, pretending she had just been cleaning up.