The days that followed the creature attack were marked by a somber intensity. The initial relief of survival slowly gave way to a deep-seated awareness of their vulnerability. The massive carcass of the beast lay near the construction site, a stark, physical reminder of the dangers that lurked beyond the familiar edges of their forest. The air still held a faint, unpleasant tang of the creature's strange fluid, a smell that would likely linger for some time.
The immediate task was the processing of the fallen monster. It was a daunting undertaking. The creature's hide, a patchwork of incredibly tough plates, resisted their sharpest stone knives. Borin and the other toolmakers worked tirelessly, constantly resharpening blades, their movements fueled by a grim determination. Cutting through the thick hide and dense muscle was slow, arduous work, requiring multiple villagers working together on different sections.
Elias, despite his size, was present during the butchering, observing with a mixture of fascination and revulsion. He pointed out areas where the hide seemed slightly thinner, suggesting points where the knives might have better purchase. He cautioned the villagers to avoid the dark, viscous fluid, remembering its corrosive effect on the earth. His Earth knowledge of anatomy and butchery, gleaned from documentaries and books, offered some guidance, though the creature's alien biology presented many unknowns.
The internal organs were unlike anything they had ever seen in the animals they hunted. The dark fluid seemed to permeate many of the tissues. Some parts were discarded immediately, deemed too strange or potentially dangerous. Other parts, particularly the muscle tissue, were carefully separated, despite the villagers' initial hesitation about consuming the meat of such a monstrous being.
The plates of the creature's hide were incredibly hard and surprisingly light for their size. Borin, ever the pragmatist, saw their potential. While they couldn't be easily cut or shaped with their current tools, their toughness was undeniable. With Kaelen's approval, several of the largest and most intact plates were carefully cleaned and set aside. Perhaps, they speculated, they could be used as shields, or incorporated into the village's defenses in some way. They were a tangible trophy of their victory, and a potential resource born from the very threat they had overcome.
The dark metal panel, which had served as their unexpected shield, was treated with even greater reverence after the attack. It was moved from its temporary position between the huts and placed near the main entrance to the village, not just propped up, but partially set into the earth, creating a more permanent barrier. Its smooth, dark surface, completely unmarked by the creature's assault, stood as a silent testament to its impossible strength. Villagers passing by would often touch it, a gesture of gratitude and respect.
Elias continued to study the panel whenever he had a moment. He still couldn't discern its composition or how it was made. He tried, with a small, sharp stone, to replicate the intricate patterns on a piece of wood, but the complexity and precision were beyond his ability to copy freehand. He wondered about the beings who had created it, their capabilities, and why such an object was buried in the earth near this remote river. The mystery deepened with each passing day.
The attack had injected a new, urgent energy into the construction of the village defenses. The palisade and trench were no longer just a project for future security; they were a necessity for immediate survival. The villagers worked with a grim determination, their movements faster, their efforts more focused. The memory of the creature bursting through the flimsy test section of the palisade was a powerful motivator.
Elias's guidance on fortifications was now seen not just as clever ideas, but as vital knowledge. He showed them how to make the palisade thicker, how to reinforce the gate with additional logs and crossbeams, and how to create a small, defensible area just inside the entrance where a few warriors could hold a narrow passage. He explained the concept of a 'killing zone,' an area where attackers would be exposed to fire from multiple angles.
The work was still physically demanding, but the collective effort was immense. The sounds of hammering, digging, and sawing (with their limited tools) filled the air from dawn until dusk. The trench grew deeper, the earth bank higher, and the palisade rose steadily, a more formidable barrier taking shape around the village perimeter.
Kaelen was a constant presence, organizing the labor, encouraging his people, and working alongside them. He would often talk with Elias during breaks, discussing the progress, the challenges, and the lessons learned from the attack. He asked Elias more about the 'hard stones' from his 'sky-stories,' trying to understand where this knowledge came from. Elias continued to be vague, speaking of 'old times' and 'many people' who had learned such things, a simplified version of Earth's history that seemed to satisfy Kaelen's curiosity without revealing the impossible truth.
Borin, meanwhile, was fascinated by the creature's hide plates. He spent hours examining them, trying to find a way to work them, to shape them into useful items. He tried heating them in the fire, pounding them with stones, rubbing them with abrasives, but nothing seemed to have any effect. The material was as resistant as the dark metal panel. It was frustrating, but also a challenge that captivated him.
The meat of the creature, once the initial hesitation passed, became a valuable food source. It was tough, requiring long cooking times, but it was nourishing. The villagers learned to prepare it, finding ways to make it more palatable. The successful utilization of the beast, the transformation of a terrifying threat into sustenance and potential resources, was another small victory, a testament to their resilience.
As the days passed, the raw earth and newly cut logs of the defenses began to blend slightly into the surrounding environment. The village was changing, becoming more fortified, more visibly prepared for the dangers of the wider world. The dark metal panel stood sentinel by the entrance, a silent, powerful reminder of both the threats they faced and the mysterious history of the land they inhabited. The sounds of construction continued, a determined rhythm against the backdrop of the rustling forest and the calls of its inhabitants. The village was building, hardening itself, adapting to the lessons etched in hide and metal.