Timestamp: 56th Day of Fall, 512 AV
Vanator dragged more boards around the patient quarters to the space between it and the chicken house, dropping them with a clatter on top of the wood left over from the recently built coup. The wood would be used to construct Sanctuary's bird mews and flight area, one of his sister's priorities in the remodeling.
The Drykas was not a builder, at least in the sense of constructing buildings. The people of the horse clans didn't build anything that could not fit into a wagon. The entire city of Endrykas was designed to be portable, picked up and moved by an army of seme-pulled wagons. Vanator himself had to get used to living inside tunnels and buildings after a lifetime dwelling in the canvas, hide and fabric tents of the pavilions. Nevertheless, Van wanted to help in the construction. If healers and hebalists and horse trainers could build, then certainly Vanator could as well.
Van wiped his forehead with his sleeve, the work, and bright sun, bringing sweat to his brow even in the cool autumn air. He untucked his shirt, undoing the buttons to let it hang open, allowing the brisk breeze to evaporate the sweat on his chest. Then Van picked up several boards, balanced them on his shoulder and carried them to the area marked for the mews. Dropping them again, he kicked them out across the dirt, one at a time, roughing out a square where the building would set. Vanator stepped back, brushing strands of dark blond locks from his face, then rested his hand on his hips. Reaching into his pocket, the Drykas pulled an apple, taking a bite before shoving it back into his pocket.
Moving back to the woodpile, Van began to separate the boards, humming a tune as he chewed up the juicey apple bite. Once he had it swallowed, the Drykas began to sing. It was a song he had heard Pygmy sing often in the taverns of Endrykas, though he sung the lyrics in his native Pavi. He was not a talented singer, by any means, but there was not anyone on that side of the compound to judge.