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it.

She waited several moments in anticipation, but nothing happened.

“You’re probably going to need a fresher source of wood in order to be able to use it in your dungeon.  Most of what made that stick wood has been lost over time, which makes it a less-than-ideal representative of the material.  My guess is that any wood that is freshly taken from a tree – and by freshly, I mean at least in the last few days – would probably do the trick for you,” Winxa told her in a monotone voice after Sandra explained her dilemma.

What’s wrong?

The Dungeon Fairy was silent for nearly a minute before she responded.  “It’s…this place used to be beautiful.  A lush, green valley filled with grass and wildflowers, towering trees and gently rolling hills; now it’s a ruined, barren wasteland where nothing lives.  And all because of Wester…and me.”

Sandra could tell that her friend was feeling guilty about her role in everything.  Hey, it’s not your fault.  You couldn’t have predicted this would happen – you were just doing your job.  If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s the Creator’s.

Winxa appeared lost in thought for a few minutes, before she broke the uncomfortable silence.  “Don’t talk about the Creator that way,” she finally said, albeit half-heartedly.  “I know it wasn’t me that did all this, but I can’t help but still feel responsible for it.”

Well, get over it.  I still need your help if I’m going to survive, Sandra thought toward the Dungeon Fairy, realizing that a tough-love approach in this situation was probably best.  Her father had done the same thing when she was younger, when Sandra would despair over the state of her hands and her inability to do anything useful.  She didn’t need someone feeling sorry for her or pitying her – she was doing enough of that herself.  She had responded much better to her father telling her to essentially “Suck it up” and get back to work.  It was still too early to tell whether it would work on Winxa, but the slow, silent nod Sandra received in response was encouraging.

Sandra tried again with various scraps of wood that her Mechanical Wolf found outside, but as they were all just different degrees of crumbling sticks and branches, she didn’t have any more luck.  For nearly half the day, her two constructs outside roamed cautiously over her Area of Influence, searching out anything that might be of use.  The sun was high overhead, and the environment appeared to be heating up, though she couldn’t “feel” anything, and her Mechanical Monsters weren’t really affected by it.

She wasn’t sure if it was the heat of the day that prevented her from seeing any wild creatures, or whether there really wasn’t anything other alive out there other than the Bearlings – which she made sure to avoid with her constructs, while keeping an eye on them.  Regardless, there was very little of interest that she found, though with the slow approach she had been taking, she hadn’t even explored a quarter of what was accessible to her.

Seeing the sky and sun again was nice; however, it wasn’t as good as she had hoped. Not being able to feel the heat of the sun against her skin, to smell the fresh air (even in a wasteland, she suspected it was fresher than the air below the surface), and even experiencing the feeling of insignificance when she gazed at the vastness of the wide-open sky made the whole event a bit of a letdown.  Nevertheless, the freedom of having a larger area to roam and explore was beneficial for her sanity, if nothing else – though she did see a small uptick in the amount of ambient Mana funneling into her Core from outside.

Hmm…if I can fill the outside with as many constructs as I have in my dungeon, I could get a whole lot more Mana, which will allow me to upgrade my Core and extend my Influence.  Eventually, I might be able to reach a place that isn’t destroyed and finally acquire more materials for crafting.

“That’s the main idea, Sandra.  It’s the primary motivating factor for most Dungeon Cores: upgrade and expand their Area of Influence.  Of course, you have a different reason – crafting materials, apparently – but the goal is the same,” Winxa responded unprompted to Sandra’s internal monologue, sounding livelier than she had before.  Not chipper, by any means, but not necessarily depressed and morose.

Well then, I guess I’ve got more Mana collecting to do.  She looked into creating some more Animated Shears, as she thought those would be the most cost-effective flyers that she had that could spread out from her dungeon like a plague of locusts, gobbling up all the nearby ambient Mana.  However, before she could start the process, her Mechanical Wolf aboveground saw something that made her – figuratively – tense up in surprise.

Somehow, despite her dungeon’s relative isolation inside the barren wasteland, there was someone walking around up there.

*          *          *

At first, Sandra thought it was a human stumbling his way through the landscape with little regard for his surroundings, but as she crept her Wolf closer to the person, she could see some definite differences.  For one, although he was probably five feet and some inches tall, he was much stockier than she had ever seen a human look like before – and she had met many, many people over the years of being a merchant with her father.  Not fat, though – just more compact and sturdier; in fact, she could barely see an ounce of fat on him, mainly because he wasn’t wearing very many clothes.  A threadbare linen shirt that was probably beige at one point – but was now soot-stained with small holes dotting the short sleeves – was covered up from behind by a leather apron that appeared similar to a Blacksmiths’.  It also was

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