I can't believe it.
A few days ago, this place was an empty plot. Now, a few days later, there are six huts, plans for a meeting hall, and maps of the surrounding area.
Strata, The explorer, comes back to camp with a dead seahorse. It is good that I am not the squeamish girl I was raised to be. Other wise, I would not have had the guts to come here myself. I gut the creature with the knife my father gave me. Once done, I use the fire jar to begin a roast out of the seaweed. The flames flicker with the colors of the sea. Blues and greens mix and mesh with purples and browns. I make a spit, and begin to cook lunch.
I tell Strata to stay close to base until my father sends the next shipment, which should come today or tomorrow. She nods, and sets off. I hope she will bring me some clippings of the plants she finds. I would like to test them.
I tell the builders to begin on the meeting hall, which will double as the eating hall until we have more time. It should be done in time to have a late lunch in. Our first meat in our first hall.
I set off, looking around at the plants and flowers and colors and all the things that are now mine. Talk about extravagant.