Day 4 — Stabilisation Begins
The camp woke slowly—slower than any day before. Faces were swollen from crying, eyes red-rimmed, limbs stiff from too many hours curled in blankets or sitting upright by the fires. The shaking had lessened. No one looked steady exactly, but the raw edges had dulled into heavy, dragging exhaustion.
A few early risers shuffled around the kitchen tent, moving carefully as if every noise might crack someone's fragile calm. When Talia stepped outside, a dozen quiet greetings met her—not loud or confident, just soft acknowledgements that people were still here. Still trying.
Her family gathered around her with that unspoken, protective instinct they'd developed since landing.
"We should start reintroducing tasks," Dad said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Gently."
"Only the smallest things," Mum added. "Something predictable. Routine is grounding."
Dav nodded. "Scouts need to go a little farther today. Not a full sweep, just enough to check beast patterns and find a water source."
Talia let her gaze drift over the camp: people wrapped in blankets, some sitting together in silent circles, others staring at the mountains as if waiting for Earth to magically reappear.
"Alright," she murmured. "Let's begin."
She called over Dale and the head of the Trauma Team.
"How's the camp's recovery?" she asked.
Dale answered first. "Heavy injuries will take longer. Light ones should be fine in a couple days—these new bodies heal faster."
The Trauma Team lead, a soft-spoken young man with exhaustion etched into his smile, added, "Emotionally… people are stabilising. Fewer panic episodes last night. Nightmares are constant. We're rotating counsellors, but we're stretched thin."
"We'll support you however we can," Talia promised. "More people will be stable enough to help today."
They thanked her and returned to their work.
Dav motioned to Collie and her partner as they approached. The pair straightened with more alertness than most.
"Meadow perimeter." Dav asked.
"Right. Beast trails and water sources." Collie confirmed.
"Stay within shouting range. No bravado."
They nodded and slipped out.
Talia barely had time to whisper a hope for their safety before Theo and Cael returned.
"We need hunters and water gatherers," Theo said. "Small teams. Joel's crew is ready."
Talia stepped forward automatically—instinct, training, curiosity.
She didn't even make it three steps, five hands stopped her.
"No."
"You're grounded."
"You can barely stand."
"Mum will kill you."
"Sit, or we sit on you."
Talia stared at them, betrayed. "I'm not that injured."
Theo pointed at her thigh. "Your stitches disagree."
She considered biting someone.
Dav gently rotated her back toward camp. "Let us handle this."
She grumbled but didn't argue. Much.
The hunting and foraging teams slipped away quietly. Their steps weren't cautious. Slow steps, deep breaths, tense shoulders. The first group tasks of a new world and one that could harm their people's growing confidence should they fail in any way.
The quiet spaces remained open, though less desperate than yesterday. People drifted through—crying corners, meditation patches, the soft-lit companion tent.
Others walked the rough perimeter stakes, touching each one as if confirming the world still had boundaries. A few stared out across the endless grasslands, fear and curiosity warring in their expressions.
At the western edge, survivors from other Lord camps watched with hollow, aching eyes.
A man whispered, barely audible, "Can … Can we use those tents too?"
A volunteer relayed the question to Talia.
They looked so worn. Far worse than her people—maybe fewer elders, fewer counsellors, or leaders who didn't know how to steady a frightened camp.
Talia sent runners to the other Lords, offering safe spaces, counsellor support, rest tents, places to breathe without judgement.
Replies came quickly—each tinged with relief.
Soon, a few from those camps stepped cautiously toward hers, hesitant as deer approached safe water. The air between groups felt fragile—grief recognising grief, pain recognising pain.
Volunteers welcomed them with warm water, quiet reassurance, soft hands guiding trembling strangers into shaded tents and calmer fires.
It wasn't unity but it was human.
—
The hunting groups returned as the sun warmed the meadow.
Dav and Cael returned at the head of the hunting party, moving with the alert, coiled awareness of men who hadn't relaxed once since stepping past the perimeter stakes. They spoke low to Talia, steady but edged in caution.
"The forest is workable," Dav began, wiping dried sap from his blade, "but it's not Earth-forest. The terrain shifts underfoot—roots twist like ropes, and the ground dips without warning. You can lose balance fast if you're not paying attention."
Cael nodded. "And quiet. Not natural quiet. No birds until deeper in. Most of the sound comes from the trees themselves—creaking, shifting, like they're… breathing."
Dav continued, "Low-tier beasts stay at the outer ring. The ones we brought back were on their routine patrols. They test scent, not sound. Smarter than they look."
"Tracks got bigger the deeper we went," Cael added. "Claw marks chest-high. Something heavy dragged across a clearing. Nothing we wanted to fight without a full team."
"Water's clean," Dav finished. "About two kilometres in. Fresh flow from the cliffs. But the beasts use it too."
Cael met Talia's eyes. "If we hunt deeper—we go in teams. No exceptions."
She nodded.
The camp gathered instantly, drawn by motion and the scent of blood. The hunters laid out three thick-shouldered beasts—curling horns, dense fur, heavy bodies.
They did not dissolve.
A ripple ran through the crowd.
"They're real…"
"They don't melt."
"So… food?"
"Or trouble."
"…both."
A butcher stepped forward, wiping his palms on his pants. "Never cut one of these before."
Beside him, an animal researcher hovered like he'd been handed sacred scripture. "The anatomy might be similar. Maybe. Possibly. I've never—well, I've definitely never—"
Dom clapped him on the back. "There's a first time for everything."
Someone muttered, "Don't you want revenge?"
That settled it.
The first incision was shaky but determined.
Gasps rose when the skull split open.
"A crystal?"
"What the—"
"What does it do?"
"Mine," the researcher breathed.
Talia snagged it before he could pounce. "Find another, then you can play with it."
He thought about arguing, then thought better of it.
The next beasts produced two more crystals. Talia handed one to the researcher Grandpa Vil, who immediately started muttering about cell density, and one to Grandpa Lev, who left happily mumbling about plant experiments.
After the dismantling excitement faded, the camp eased into small storytelling groups.
Luke reenacted the hunt for teens—dramatic, over-the-top and loudly cheered.
Reno was cornered by aunties demanding every detail about beast behaviour and forest danger—he obliged with patient explanations.
Dav sat with elderly survivors, answering quiet, trembling questions and assuring them that, with training, everyone could defend themselves.
Cael took a half-ring of men through slow weapon checks, talking evenly about attack patterns and forest safety.
Dom sat cross-legged with children climbing all over him, weaving grass bracelets and sharing gentle "don't touch that creature" stories.
It was the closest thing to normal since Earth died.
—
A medic approached Talia quietly. "The East Blockade man you brought in… he didn't make it."
Her chest tightened. Not surprised, but it still hurts. Earth's casualties had followed them here.
Junia appeared soon after the medic left, having collected flowers and stones for a cremation.
"I'll lead…" she stopped, shaking her head. "Not yet," she murmured. "No one's ready yet."
No one argued.
—
The feast began at sunset.
People gathered in widening circles as cooks debated the alien meat.
"Cut it thin," one suggested.
"Thick pieces hold flavour," another countered.
"What flavour? We don't even know if it has any."
They set up three makeshift grills, iron sheets over firepits. The first strips of beast meat touched the grills with a sizzle. Fat spilling over the flame with a soft hiss. The scent rolled through the camp like a gentle shockwave.
People froze mid-step. Heads lifted. Eyes widened.
A child whispered, "It smells good…"
An older man murmured, "Haven't smelled real meat cooking in months."
Someone else swallowed hard, tears stinging. "I forgot food could smell like this."
The beast researcher Grandpa Vil, hovered so close one of the cooks shoved him back with a spatula. "You approved it, so let us cook it."
"I'm just observing—scientifically—"
"Back. Or I skewer you instead."
The first cook pinched a sliver between her fingers, brow furrowed. "Spices? Salt?"
She tasted it, blinked… then laughed softly, almost in disbelief.
"Doesn't need anything. Not a thing."
Behind her, dozens of hungry eyes fixed on the grills like worshippers at an altar.
A stunned laugh broke out. "Alright, Helpers hand it out."
The first bites triggered stunned gasps.
"It warms…"
"Feels like energy…"
"Anyone else feel that?"
"Holy—this is amazing."
Grandpa Vil nearly collapsed, "Increase in cell counts? Or heightened density? Can't be a possible energy relation? —oh my god—"
No one listened.
They were too busy eating. Too busy tasting comfort, victory, the first moment of relief in days.
Some cried between bites. Others laughed for the first time since leaving Earth. Someone toasted the sky. Someone whispered a thank you. Another swore they'd survive this place just to eat this again.
Talia watched quietly, exhaustion heavy in her bones but warmth blooming in her chest.
For the first time since the world ended, the camp didn't feel like it was breaking.