The days before their resupply were terrible. The ASTF's temporary camp was in a rocky valley, a small safe spot in the windy Grey Fells. The wind was always blowing, and the tension was so heavy you could almost feel it in the dusty air. Jax spent his time sharpening many big knives. Titus stood guard, a still, disciplined soldier.
In the middle of this hard military camp, a different kind of work was being done.
Vanessa had turned a small, flat topped boulder into her own personal workshop. A portable runic forge, no bigger than a toolbox, glowed with a contained, magical heat. Spread around her were tools from her kit, scorch-marked metal plates, and crystals that had been drained of their power, now lying dull and lifeless.
Jax watched her from the corner of his eye, a deep frown etched on his face. "Messing with lab magic," he muttered to no one in particular. "'In this wild, you trust your blade and what you see. Not… shiny bits."
