After my transformation, a sudden movement caught my attention in my peripheral vision. Swiftly turning my head, I discovered the elf boy peering cautiously from the door frame. Startled by my swift reaction, he let out a cute yelp and stumbled backward into the safety of the cabin. Amusement crept upon my lips at the sight.
Surveying the perimeter of the camp, I found the existing defenses to be inadequate. With focused determination, I shifted my attention to constructing a protective wall. Gathering thin to medium-thick trees, I meticulously stripped them of their branches. Using my sharp claws, I dug a trench around the camp, setting aside the excavated earth for later use.
Inserting the logs firmly into the trenches, I ensured their secure placement. With the aid of my four smaller hands — the newly grown pair proving to be useful — I applied bio-fibers onto the logs. These fibers served to bind them together tightly, seal gaps, and prevent decay. Once all the logs were in position, I filled the trenches with the excavated earth, compacting it firmly.
To fortify the wall, I leaned additional logs against it at a forty-five-degree angle, reinforcing its stability against collapsing inwards. I left two entrances, one at the front and one at the back, for easy access.
Stepping back to admire my handiwork, a sense of accomplishment washed over me. However, as the sky gradually brightened, I realized I had spent the entire night constructing the wall.
My gaze then shifted to the pile of weapons, armor, and other miscellaneous items. Ideas began to form in my mind, recognizing that there was still work to be done.
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Firaira slowly stirred awake, finding comfort in the warmth of her sister's embrace as she clung to the blanket. After some time, she decided to rise from the bed, sitting up and rubbing her eyes until her vision cleared. It was then that she noticed the significant changes.
No longer feeling sick, she took in a deep breath of the fresh air. Her body was miraculously free of bruises and imperfections. And to her surprise, she was now wearing clothes made of the strange wool-like silk that she ran her hand over.
A sudden realization struck her, and her hand instinctively went to her throat, feeling the collar that held haunting memories. The memories of the Beast, the half-elf boy, the taste of orc meat, and the sensation of being swallowed flooded back. She hugged herself tightly, trembling at the recollection.
Surveying the room, she saw that the others were still asleep. Not wanting to disturb them, she carefully untangled herself from the blanket and approached the cabin's entrance. Peeking outside, her gaze landed on the Beast, engrossed in its work on a clay furnace. A pile of disassembled weapons, armor, a bag of charcoal, and metalworking tools lay nearby, including hammers, tongs, and an anvil.
The Beast was tearing apart breastplates with its smaller hands, depositing the pieces into a crucible. Fascinated, Firaira mustered the courage to approach, despite the chill of the morning breeze. As she drew nearer, the Beast unexpectedly moved one of its large forelimbs to lift a rock and placed it beside itself, gently patting the surface without ever taking its attention away from the task at hand.
Sensing her presence, the Beast had prepared a place for her to sit and observe. Taking a seat on the rock, Firaira watched as the Beast filled the clay and mud furnace with coals, igniting the fire. It blew into a small tube near the base, providing the coals with more air.
Once the furnace reached the desired temperature, the Beast placed the metal-filled crucible inside.
Firaira had never seen the melting of metal before. The Beast blew into the furnace, intensifying the heat. She observed as the steel gradually turned from red to orange and finally white-hot. Without hesitation, the Beast reached in with its bare hand and cautiously tapped a finger against the scorching crucible.
