Chapter 1. Advancement.

  Scowls and rude remarks managed to slip their way into agreeing ears. These murmurs had to sneak in between the head ringing smash of metal against metal. Smashing iron rang throughout the surroundings of a mountainous area, a surrounding area of what you could say looked to be the early developments for a settlement. Because it had that slow development esthetic all around.

  There were many fallen trees, all piled up with no organization to their stacking. Piles of timber looking more like burn piles awaiting their flame. These stacks could be assumed for future home. Walls. Weapons or whatever—don’t count on it.

  Structures built of log rounds and mud spotted the area. There were also patchy hide tents. It was a slow development. Or at least anyone would suspect this to be—and that was totally fair.

  No this is just how these people liked to live; they were practiced in apathy. What that means is they were typically very lazy, almost zombie-like. Not the cannibalistic corpse you’re thinking, but a dull-minded drooler. And had it not been for that deafening head ringing smash, most of who were also a lacking attention.

  They were able to manage and keep the craft of fire though—well some of them could make fire.

  Typically, each fire would show off four or five deer-hide sleepers. Those who occupied these primitive bedrolls sat around the slow song and dance to a comforting fire, taking turns glancing at one another. Before collectively and progressively glaring at one. One who stands around a poorly built forge, and crude anvil. One who most would deem sick. Not that he had a contagious illness or ailment. No, they deemed the man sick because of his laborious tendencies and style of life. Those who didn’t have a role to play often judged the ones who did. Not only that but listening to an anvil bark all day is quite irritable.

  He could feel the eyes slowly pressuring him, still it would take but just a few more pairs. He was a heavy man, with a big hammer and was not intimidated easily. He swung that impressive hammer with breezing ease too. You would think that his thick arms would have rippled upon each collision, but they stayed firm, tight, and defined. His gut though, his gut held a flowing jiggle with the force of each mighty swing. With each swinging of that great big arm, small beady eyes watched from above a thick nose and flared nostrils. These dark eyes watched carefully as his wide hands guided a hammer, a hammer flattening a sheet of metal thinner, and thinner.

  “Hey!” a gruff, grumpy voice holler, and a dirty man to match such voice went stomping for that large man and his swinging hammer. “Hey!” he shouted once more.

  The heavy man dropped his metal smasher in the dirt and reached for another. Fingers so thick and sausage-like, just the mere thought of this man’s fist was troubling, how did he get them thick fingers to curl. Those fat fingers gripped around the handle of a new tool. Another hammer, only the head of this one was round.

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  Now, as was said before, this settlement was a slow process. Not just a slow process of development but a slow process of thought as well. Well as goes anything these folks, except a few others who play their role, and the one big guy, anything these folks did was lacking in attentive mannerisms, and emotion. Unless there was a head throbbing, banging of metal on metal to keep their collective, and concentrated annoyance.

  A single and large hand, a hand missing its pointer, nearly took the entire handle of that hammer. Then that thick bear arm powered a new irritable sound. Light, and yet aggressively firm tap taps, like a heartbeat with an irregular rhythm. Those precise tap taps went against a fine sheet of metal. Giving it satisfying smooth curvature, upon each delivery with tap of aggravation. It was a delicate ringing that forced everyone, well most of everyone back into that collective flat glare of annoyance.

  That one grungy and confused man who was slowly pacing now, was brought back to attention, waving his arms once more. “Hey!”

  The hammering stopped, not because of that yelling man, that heavy-set fellow did a wonderful job of ignoring the others. No, he stopped his work because of the odd, and single chirp of a bell.

  That soft lovely sound held a faint pulsing note of echoing reverberation. That entrancing single chime lasted for many heart beats. Inside this mental imagination of sound and beauty was but another noise, a noise not as pretty.

  That other faint sound, the one blanketed by the bliss of the bell, was a low taunting snarl. That snarl didn’t linger like the pulsing note of the bell did. That snarl was viciously quick, it was a fierce snarl, it was the kind of snarl that was hair raising, and he didn’t have jackalopes.

  The heavy man looked up, focused on nothing physically around him, but fixated upon something else, like he was waiting for it. Like that spec of who knows what when it floats through your line of vision—you know that thing that’s hard to focus on. Except this wasn’t that floating translucent grey spec of unknown, this thing, ..no it wasn’t a thing either, he was seeing symbols. Letters. Words.

  These words stayed stationary. Hovering just under his brow line. Not particularly blocking his views per say, but he was very focused on them. He hated this.

  That heavy fellow wore a face of uncertainty, displaying a pushed and wrinkled forehead, while beady eyes rolled with confusion watching the glimmer. Completely unaware of the other who yelled for him.

  That shouting man was now in a cowering flinch with arms covering his head. That man held his flinch because of a hammer.

  A hammer held just above a fat man’s shoulder mid swing. Or from that cowering stance it looked like it could have been mid-throw. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

  “Sid what the hell is wrong with you. Put the hammer down.” This man called unraveling from his twisting flinch.

  Glaring with scrunched brows and mean dull eyes. Eyes fixated not on the big man in general, but more so towards that hammer. Those dull eyes lost concentration before shifting into a glazed look of confusion.

  That man holding the hammer above his shoulder, his name was Sid. Sidney Birch to be fair, but just Sid was fine with him. He didn’t like the name Sidney.

  Sid blinked rapidly and that odd message slowly fizzled, dissipating with each passing eyelid. Sid couldn’t read so he didn’t know what that message said but he knew it was words, or letters at the very least. Not only did he see these words of mystery, but he could also feel a dense warmth tickling in his core.

  It was an odd sensation, like looking over a deep edge. It was an internal feeling that started shallow deep in the pits of his gut, before exploding like the iron he worked. He could feel the sparking embers, and the heat of the anvil there was a new sense of passion. He couldn’t explain this feeling, but now there was something about the way he gripped his hammer. His hold, it felt, ...it felt more precise, more true, more pure. This wasn’t the first time he had heard the bell, but this new feeling of advancement made him uneasy.