Huyn was in the shelter when he noticed the stone hills breaching the soil at the limits of Mogushal. First, they appeared as subtle protuberances in the ground, then as sharper forms, raised by Mokessa's concentrated force. He had already spotted her from afar, small and distant from the refuge, with her hands raised to the sky while the earth responded in crooked and incomplete shapes around Mogushal.
Navigating the crowd of the troop and reaching Mokessa was a challenge—the group of primates became confused and paralyzed with every new elevation that rose from the soil. When he finally reached her, he observed her in silence, with cautious steps, barely moving, as if any sound might interfere with her attempt. Huyn stopped at a certain distance and analyzed.
The shelter, made of branches, fibers, and vines, with its overlapping platforms, was delicate in comparison to the crudeness of the emerging wall. It was as if the forest still breathed through every gap in the structure.
Mokessa remained concentrated for a few more moments, her gaze fixed on the landscape and her jaw firm.
— Mokessa! — Huyn called to her. — Are you trying to create a prison for us monkeys? Just like the Stone-Hide's?
— You came late — she said, without harshness, but also without softening the observation.
Huyn lightly scratched the side of his neck, uncertain if that was a reprimand or merely an acknowledgment.
— I saw you from below. — He directed his face toward the incomplete wall. — I was trying to figure out if you were winning or if the ground was winning against you.
Mokessa let out a short breath through her nose, almost a humorless laugh.
— We are still deciding.
Huyn took another step closer, enough to see the light sweat on her brow and the tension in her fingers.
— You are tired.
— I am busy.
Huyn was quiet for a moment, letting the void occupy the space between them. Below, the Mogushal refuge was too small for such great concern. The branch platforms creaked at soft intervals, and the interlacing of fibers gave the structure the appearance of a nest.
Huyn then averted his eyes from the wall and focused on Mokessa with a more closed, intimate expression, as if carrying another question he had held for some time.
— Did you have any new vision?
Mokessa did not respond immediately. Her hands slowly closed again. The earth, for the moment, remained still. Huyn perceived the change in the air and continued cautiously:
— Any sign of Mogu?
The name dropped between them with the lightness of a stone tossed into deep water.
Mokessa lowered her head:
— No — she finally revealed. — I haven't had anything for a long time. No dreams. No warnings. No images. Not even the smallest trace.
Huyn frowned.
— Nothing from him?
— Nothing.
She focused her gaze on the distant line of the forest, as if searching there for some fragment of an answer that stubbornly refused to appear.
Huyn remained quiet, perhaps not because he had nothing to say, but because any phrase would seem smaller in the face of the absence she named. He observed the crooked columns around the shelter and then the ground, as if the gesture helped him organize his thoughts.
— So you are doing this without him?
Mokessa did not deny it.
— I am doing what I can.
— After we killed those two... — Huyn said. — Do you think they will retaliate?
Mokessa ran her fingers over her palm, wiping away the dry mud adhering to her skin.
— I honestly have no idea. We have to be prepared.
The wind passed through the tall leaves and made a soft sound over the mound. The two merely listened to the sound of the shelter's fibers moving with the breeze. Huyn, therefore, moved his body a little closer, like one who finally decides to share the same responsibility.
— Can I help?
Mokessa raised her eyes to him. There was weariness on her face, but not rejection.
— You can try.
Huyn observed the elevations and then the earth before the shelter.
— If I can make the ground yield, perhaps the wall will grow faster?
— Perhaps.
The answer came without excessive encouragement. Mokessa seemed to know that trying was part of the task, but that too much promise could be another form of weakness. Huyn took a deep breath and positioned himself beside her, still slightly hesitant.
He closed his eyes for a few seconds and brought his hands forward, as if wanting to find what Mokessa had with the soil. His face tightened with concentration. The goal was simple: to make the earth obedient. To birth stone, to thicken the columns, to give the wall the substance it lacked.
But the ground did not react as they expected. There was movement, yes—a subtle, almost invisible reaction. The dust around Huyn's feet lifted in small spirals. Dry leaves slid across the ground, dragged by a light flow that did not come from the common wind's direction. The vines hanging from the platform edges swayed unusually, as if they were being called by a force that was not that of stone.
Huyn frowned. He tried again, now with more focus, imagining the base of a column rising from the soil, compact and firm. But what moved was the air. A brief current passed between him and the shelter, grazing the fibers and shaking the tips of the leaves with an unexpected delicacy.
Mokessa noticed immediately. She narrowed her eyes, observing the behavior of the space around him. The earth remained nearly still, but the wind reacted in small bursts, as if recognizing Huyn even before he recognized himself.
— It's not earth — she murmured.
Huyn opened his eyes, confused.
— What?
Mokessa looked from his face to his still-raised hands.
— You are not calling the ground.
Huyn lowered his hands slowly. The dust settled, but a light breeze still spun around his wrists.
He looked at Mokessa, not fully understanding.
— Then what am I doing?
Mokessa saw the vines, the leaves, and the gentle movement spreading across the platform's edge again.
— You are moving the air.
Huyn looked away, bothered and fascinated at the same time. He had come to help with the wall; instead, he discovered that his own body responded to something else, something less dense and freer.
— I didn't mean to do that.
— I know. And that is important to us now. A weapon we can use against the hairless ones.
— I thought I could summon stone.
— Perhaps stone is not your language.
Huyn fell silent. The wind swept through again, almost like a subtle confirmation. He stared at his own hands, then at the surrounding landscape. The entire forest gave him the impression of paying attention, as if awaiting the conclusion of something that was only now beginning to reveal itself.
Mokessa slowly released her breath, evaluating the young male before her with an expression more attentive than surprised.
— Still don't understand?
Huyn took a deep breath.
— I understand that I failed to do what I wanted.
— No. — Mokessa took a step toward him. — You did something different. You are now as strong as a hairless one.
Huyn froze.
The sound of the leaves, the slight sway of the refuge's fibers, the dust lifting in small arcs… everything pointed to the same truth. He had not called the stone. He had called the air.