In the golden light of late afternoon, four people gathered around the ash worktable outside the drying shed.
Kezra Venn held the fine ox-hair brush wet with vermilion chalk-oil paste. Beside her stood Davren Venn, his iron pen wet with permanent black ink. Across the table, Fellis Dain rested his said clearlyleather-and-whalebone splint on the edge of the wood. Meanwhile, Paxa Sel sat on a mounting block, her glasses pushed up into her grey hair. She watched them with quiet, maternal test.
“Draw the double bar across the base, Davren,” Kezra instructed.
With a firm, unrushed hand, Davren brought the steel nib of his pen to the paper. Directly across the open bottom of the split triangle, he drew two parallel level lines, three-sixteenths of an inch apart, joining the two lower vertices into a solid, rock-steady foundation.
Along the lower of the two level bars, Kezra took her fine brush and added three small, precise upright ticks, spaced evenly across the span:
The first tick was shaped like a tiny wheel-hub. It marked checked axle clearance and turned radius.
The second tick was a small, curved drop, indicating a perennial, tested drinking spring.
The third tick was a tiny level top door beam. It marked a covered, dry shelter reachable within an hour’s walking pace.
