The days had continued on relatively well since their last outing. It was now into November, and while the days had gotten colder, Erik and others were keeping warm performing the woodwork on the sawmill's components. With rusty hammers and worn chisels, bent hacksaws and crumbling files, the pieces began to take shape, and the townspeople began to learn more about how to properly work wood from its most basic form. Darkhill had even visited to personally witness the progress of the work, and was moderately impressed. Kelsey had grown a bit hungrier. It wasn't always possible to locate all of the foods she insisted on eating, and those cravings would only grow with the proper onset of winter. Jenny had forgotten about Erik during her sudden meeting with Colton, and had grown fond of him instead. She wasn't too incensed about the plot to set them up, and believed it was providence that those few townspeople chased him out of town, so she could be alone with Colton. It seemed that everything was coming together nicely, and only one mysterious thread remained untouched.

Erik was showing off the crank design, temporarily assembled, to Jarvis and his entourage, in the schoolhouse.

“So, when the main shaft is attached here and here...” He pointed to both ends of the crank, “this connecting rod will be attached by a ring to this smaller, offset shaft. The offset will allow it to spin freely and move up and down, which will reciprocate the sawblade on the level above, cutting the wood.” He had explained it so many times, but people always needed a refresher, until they could see it for themselves finally.

Jarvis scratched his chin with his large, awkward hands. “Well. You seem to have thought this out pretty well, Erik.”

“Lots of people helped, Jarvis. It's a team effort, and still is.” He nodded. “And it's nowhere near done yet.”

The explanation was cut short as a call came from outside. “Jarvis! Erik! Come quick!”

Rushing outside into the cloudy daylight, they were met by one of the rats, and the Coyote Courier, or one of them. It seemed unclear to Erik whether there were more.

“What's going on?” Jarvis questioned, looking at the two, and the growing crowd.

“Mutiny!” The rat exclaimed, catching his breath. “Darkhill got stabbed, don't know if he made it! Others fought, lots of fighting! I had to run, the Courier grabbed me and helped me get to safety here!”

“Wh- who's fighting?”

“Some- some of the clan don't like what Darkhill's doing, working with others, with a human no less. They think he's gone soft, that he's going to end their history with this. Some of them teamed up to fight him and his supporters. I don't know who or what is safe!”

Erik furrowed his brow, partially in concern, partially in suspicion. “Hmm. 'Not all are friends there'. Just like Jeanne said...” He let out a big sigh, and straightened his posture up. “Alright, well let's go help our partner out. If there's no sawmill, these parts are nearly worthless!”

Erik suited up in his armor as quickly as possible, and gathered some of the other townspeople to go out on the journey back to the Creekhouse. Hours later, they arrived. The scene was not a pretty one. Smashed and speared corpses lay strewn about the area, blood soaked into the dirt, turning it to mud. While some rats still milled about the area, Darkhill sat out front of the door with his head in his hands, his chest bloody and gouged. He heard them arrive and looked up with a forlorn gaze, changing to surprise for a moment.

“Goldenmere? What are you doing here?”

Erik spoke up as he stepped forward. “We heard there was some kind of civil war going on, we came to see if we could help.”

He shook his head. “You're too late, Erik. It's over... as fast as it began.” He waved his hand over the property and at all the bodies. “It's all over. Half of the clan, gone.” He sighed and looked down to the mud. He could barely maintain any kind of attention to the guests. “They... they tried to kill us. Because we wanted to make things better. They died because they didn't want the lumbermill. They wanted to be squatters. Maybe even bandits.”

Kelsey raised an eyebrow. “They had a mutiny because they didn't want to restore the mill?”

“It wasn't all that. They didn't like you, Erik. They didn't like me working with you. I was making us soft, they said. I... hmm.” It was clear Darkhill wasn't in much of a position for dialogue at the moment. He was quiet for a moment before looking up, his eyes glazed and irritated red. “Guess we don't need all of that wood just yet, huh? Who's left can all live in the mill without much of an issue. I hope.” He tried to change the subject, but with a lighter, wispier tone than he usually had. “How... how's the project coming?”

Erik was a bit taken by surprise by his interest in talking about the mill. “We're going to be ready to bring some parts over soon, we should be able to get it running in a couple of months. That is, assuming you still want to.”

“Great, that's great. We have no choice now but to go ahead with it. We'll... try to be ready for it. But we might need more bodies to help, uh, assemble it all.”

Erik nodded in understanding. “I'll bring as many as I can.”

The group took their leave of the Creekhouse for now, a bit taken aback by the obscene violence that took place.

“All that, just to stop themselves from getting better? What a strange thing to happen. Why would anyone do that?” Kelsey shook her head.

“Some people, they just don't like change. They want everything to stay the same.”

“But things never do, do they? Whether you want it or not, things always end up changing. No day is ever the same as the last. So you'd might as well try to change it for the better, right?” Kelsey looked to him and smiled.

“Like us?”

“Like us!”

He had to agree with that. “Yeah. But... I can't help but feel this is my fault.”

She shook her head. “What are you talking about?”

“I brought the mill idea to them. I came to change their way of life. I wanted to improve everyone, maybe that was against their will. We can try to change things for the better, but is it right to force people to change who don't want to?”

“But some of them did. Their leader included. He could have said no to you.”

“He didn't know they felt this way. I convinced him to change. Maybe they should have been bandits after all?”

She made a fist and gave him a light bop on the head. “Now stop it. There's no point having a guilt trip over something you really have no control of. Mistrust? Death? We try to hold ourselves to a higher standard, but... These things just happen in the Wildlands, Erik. Aside from you and the Agents, this has been a pretty calm year.”

He sighed a bit, looking down at the path they continued to traverse the woods around them.

As Erik and Kelsey lingered behind the main group, returning to Goldenmere, a familiar face appeared from a bush along their path. The long, thin snake woman Jeanne slithered out right in their path.

“It is a shame to see such a terrible tragedy.” She said simply.

Kelsey, not recognizing the woman, immediately grew defensive and stepped forward. “Who are you?! Are you following us?”

“Oui.”

Erik reached out to block Kelsey with his arm before she got more defensive. “Hold on, this is Jeanne, an... acquaintance.”

She bowed a bit, and made a groveling motion with her arm. “And I, of course, know you, Kelsey.”

“You know me?”

“I know everyone.” She proclaimed. Her knowledge was as mysterious as ever.

Erik got right back on topic, before things got out of hand. “So, how did you know? About the Creekhouse?”

She looked back to Erik with a smirk. It was difficult to read any emotion from her stoic, scaly face, but the mouth was one thing that worked a bit. “I told you, I know tings. But not all tings.” She shrugged. “I knew de what and de why. But not de when. T'ought dey might 'ave a bit longer to... negotiate.”

“If you know these things, why don't you help stop them before they happen? None of them had to die.”

She pursed her lips a bit and shrugged again. “I am a knower, Erik, not de 'eroic type. I just 'ave de information, you and de ot'ers, 'ave de, 'ow you say, 'moral quandary' of what to do wit' it.”

“Seems easy to just absolve yourself of any responsibilities from having that information.”

She smirked once again, crossing her arms. “C'est vrai.”

“So, because I didn't tell Darkhill what you told me, this is my fault?”

She shook her head, her tongue flicking out briefly. “I didn't say dat. Like she said, tings just 'appen in de Wildlands, Erik. C'est la vie.” She flicked her tongue again, then quickly slithered back into the grasses, disappearing.

Kelsey growled at the spot briefly, her ears back. She didn't trust the snake at all. “Hmph. When exactly did you meet her?”

“Going to Bensonville. She decided to tell me that not everyone at the Creekhouse was a friend, and then left.”

“That's it?”

“That's it. You know as much as I do.”

“Impossible woman.”

“Yeah, she's strange. But, I guess you're both right. Things just happen in the Wildlands, and we need to just accept it. Death is a part of life here.”

She nodded grimly. “Things will settle down someday, I hope. With your help, I'm sure. But for now, it's just a fact of life.”

“I still can't shake the feeling like part of this is my fault, though. I should have told Darkhill what she told me.”

“And if it was him who wasn't the friend, what then? Think he'd stab you?”

Erik looked down, thinking of it. The ramifications to doing anything, including nothing, were limitless. “I'll never know.”

As they all returned home, Erik and Kelsey were met at the entrance of the farm by Rebecca, dressed warmly for a local and looking rather distraught, while carrying a big black bag.

“Oh! Just who I was coming to see.” She spoke quietly as they approached.

“Rebecca? Good to see you again, it's been a while. What's going on?”

“Erik, Kelsey, I have bad news. Vera... has passed.” She looked down, remaining quiet.

Erik's face twisted, as Kelsey looked down as well. “Wh-w-when?”

“Not long ago. Perhaps an hour.”

“Oh, no... I... what happened?”

Rebecca shook her head. “She was old, Erik. Far too old for what she was. If it was luck or punishment that she lived as long as she did, maybe she just had to live long enough to meet you, I don't know. Her body just... gave out. She lived a long, fruitful life, despite what happened.”

“I know, I know she did... she just... she was like a cousin to me. We were the only ones who knew about the Before Times, who remembered. We were like distant family.” Erik wiped a tear from his eye, as Kelsey held his shoulders.

“I know, Erik. She felt the same about you. She spent the last of her days recording as many memories as she could, to teach others like you do. I think she knew she wasn't long for the world.” She produced a large binder, full of yellowed lined pages from the bag. “She knew she wasn't as knowledgeable as you, you always impressed her with what you knew, but hopefully you will find her memories useful.”

He took the binder and held it close to his chest. “I... will do my best.”

Rebecca nodded. “I know you two won't fail her, because you haven't. She was so proud of you, and Kelsey, and everyone, for stepping up to improve this world. No matter what happens, you've already succeeded to her.” She brought the bag up to him. “I think you should also have this.”

Erik took it, and felt the weight of it. “The music box.”

She nodded again. “I feel she would like you to have it. You're the only one who could truly appreciate it, how it worked, and what's on it. I still don't know what a 'Zepplin' or 'Barchetta' is. You probably do.”

He put the binder into the bag and held it low. “Thank you, Rebecca. I don't know what to say, I... just think I need a nap.”

“So do I, Erik. So do I...” She gave a small bow before leaving.

Kelsey hugged Erik tightly. “Oh Erik, I'm so sorry.”

“It's... it's okay, Kelsey. She was old. She suffered every day. It's over now.” He sighed. “I'm going to go lay down for a bit. Maybe... listen to some music.”

Erik and Kelsey retreated to her room, where they laid on the bed and used what battery life remained to enjoy some music. As always, both were enraptured for different reasons. Erik, for the memories the songs brought back, and Kelsey, for never having heard them before. The family, too, could hear it through the walls. It was a dark day tempered only slightly by the company of each other, and Vera's music box. There was nothing left to do but proceed as planned.

Time marched ever onwards, and Goldenmere had survived its long winter, most of the villagers remaining inside and not leaving until the snow had given way in the spring. But it was now June, and much of the village was bustling, sowing every crop they could, repairing from the winter damage and gathering food to make up for the dwindling stocks. The family had come out on the other side of it being thinner than they started. Most of the food was going into feeding Kelsey, who had given birth in May to a healthy young Aussie girl, Kelly. Despite the attention needed from both parents, Kelsey insisted Erik continue his work on the mill. Along with many of his students, he took the time to bring the parts to the Creekhouse and begin the construction.

Erik, now bearded and shaggy-haired, stood before the project, looking at the new wooden parts, all assembled and ready to move.

“This is really it, isn't it, Erik?” Darkhill crossed his arms, looking at it with Erik, who did the same.

“I think it really is ready to go. It feels like we've been at this for ages. But it's ready to move.”

“Alright, listen up!” Darkhill walked forward a bit to face his clan. “It's been a long time coming, and a ton of work. But the construction stage of this is finally over.” He threw out his arm. “Release the stops! Let it spin!”

The rats pulled on a rope that removed a chunk of wood that was stopping the water wheel from spinning. With that out of the way, the water in the river, still high from the melted snow, finally began to push on it. Slowly, at first, the wheel creaked, and began to change position, as the rust in the old bearings cracked off. With the wheel starting to move, so too did the main axle. Following that, the crankshaft, and the connecting arm, leading up to the final piece of the mechanism, the sawblade. Slowly, but surely, it began to move down, then up. The whole building erupted in glee as the saw was finally working.

“It's working! It's alive! Hahah!” Erik clenched a fist and thrust it in front of him with energy. “Let's get a trunk on there!”

They hadn't installed any feeding mechanism, so what was there had to be done by hand. The rats had already chopped down a tree in anticipation of this, and dragged it, without its branches, to the small valley in the floor that led to the saw. Pushing a spacer into place, it would theoretically cut a straight strip off the edge of the log. With a couple more ropes, carefully fed around the saw, the rats gathered up and slowly pulled the log into the blade. It began to crunch and hum as the rusted teeth began to rip apart the wood. Sawdust rained down below into their spartan living quarters, but there was only room for celebration at this point. The sawmill was fully functional. The wood was slowly coming off in an even-sized plank, and the smell of fresh sawdust filled the air. It was the scent of victory for everyone.

“We did it. I can't believe we did it...” Darkhill gazed at it with awe. “Erik, this is incredible! We're making planks!”

“And once they're off the line, they'll need some touching up, but you have all you need to plane off the rounded edges. Just adjust the stopper and feed it through on its side, and off comes the round to be burnt, or whatever you need it for.”

“I can't thank you enough, this is... going to make us famous in the area. I just wish the rest of the clan were here to see it. I wish they understood... what I was doing. It was for them all.” He looked to the saw again with a forlorn aura. Its humming and grinding was not just the sound of progress, but also the solemn reminder of death.

“It's a shame, Darkhill, but... well, things just happen in the Wildlands, don't they?”

“They do. They do indeed...” He stopped staring at the falling sawdust and looked back to Erik. “My friend, don't you have a newborn at home?”

“I do. Not even a month old yet.”

“Rots, what are you even doing here? Go home, be with your wife.”

“Are you sure? What if something goes wrong?”

“We know how this thing works now. And what we don't know, we'll figure out. You've given us the tools, the inspiration. This is our project, our burden. We'll handle this from here, and send a Coyote if we need your expertise!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, we'll be fine! To be honest, your explanations of it at first were shit. We thought you were a bit of a loon. But it all makes sense now that we see it in action. It's all so simple. Almost... elegant.” He spoke wistfully, looking at the reciprocating crank. “Go spend time with your wife, she needs you now.”

He waved his hand. “Alright, alright. Let me know how it goes, if the students don't do it first.”

Erik did return home to find Kelsey laid firmly on the couch, keeping Kelly close, a burlap blanket draped over both of them. She beamed as Erik returned, and sat up.

“Oh! Erik, hi! How did it go?”

“Great, Kelsey. It's actually working. Darkhill has it all under control now.”

“That's great! You finally did it!” She took hold of the baby and held her up to her chest, cradled in her arms.

“Yeah, finally.” He sighed as he sat down next to her, looking down at the baby. “Now I can spend some quality time with the family.” In her arms, she held what would, in a normal world, be considered a puppy. The sweet little Aussie shepherd, with stubby, fuzzy legs and patchwork fur looked up at him with bright blue eyes and made a light squeak sound.

“She's beautiful.” Erik commented, poking his finger in towards her. Her small, fuzzy hand instinctively gripped it and merely held onto it, a confused look on her face, then a sudden smile.

“She really is. I was so worried about what would happen with her, I still am. But she looks so healthy and strong right now. She eats so much.”

“Yeah, she'll be healthy, I'm sure.”

“And soon, she'll be walking around, bumping into everything... we're going to have to clean some things up around here.” She sighed. “Oh, there's so much to do, all the time... but look at her. I want another!”

Erik raised his hands. “Sometime, dear. Not now...”

She chuckled. “Hah, no, not now. No way.” She looked down to notice that Kelly had fallen asleep again. “Oop. Guess she's still sleepy. Me too...” She stood up carefully, still carrying the baby in her arms. “I'm gonna continue my nap, I've gotta get the sleep where I can. We'll figure out dinner later, okay?”

He nodded. “No problem, dear.”

Erik lay down on the couch, still warm from her rest, as Kelsey walked off with the baby. He stared up at the ceiling with a heavy sigh. It wasn't without its losses, but he had really done all he had set out to do here in the Wildlands. He made a name for himself in town. He found out why he was there. He stopped the past from coming back after him. He got a loving wife and made a family. He uplifted locals so that their lives would be better. Were he to die now, it would all have been worth it.

“Is this what it's like to be a hero? Or is this just normal life? I don't know anymore.”