The sun was barely above the horizon when Vikulya strapped on her gloves and surveyed the area. The forest clearing, once overgrown and tangled with vines, was beginning to take shape. But today’s task was heavier—literally. They needed trenches. Water drainage, defensive lines, and a foundation for future building. It was hard work. The kind of work that bit into your muscles and left your hands blistered. But Vikulya wasn’t alone.
Luna the panther lay stretched across a mound of dirt, her black coat shimmering in the morning light. She watched with half-lidded eyes as Vikulya marked the trench lines with chalk and sticks, occasionally flicking her tail in what might’ve been either curiosity or amusement. Luna didn’t dig, of course—not with paws built for silent stalking rather than shovels—but she had her own way of helping.
Vikulya began the first line, driving the shovel into the earth with a grunt. The soil was stubborn in places, riddled with roots and stones. She wiped sweat from her brow and kept at it, every scoop exposing more of the raw earth beneath. Luna yawned and sauntered closer, stepping carefully along the marked path. She sniffed at the trench, then let out a low chuff and started pacing its length.
That was her contribution—guard duty. As Vikulya dug, Luna patrolled. Her presence kept the curious wildlife at bay and ensured no unexpected visitors wandered too close. More than once, Vikulya heard Luna growl softly at something rustling in the distance. Nothing approached twice.
Vikulya took a break and sipped water from a dented canteen. She watched Luna for a moment, who now stood atop a large dirt pile, regal and alert. The big cat’s presence was more than comforting—it was grounding. They didn’t need words. Their bond had long surpassed that. One glance, one soft exhale, and they understood each other.
As the sun climbed higher, the work intensified. Vikulya had finished one trench and started another, this one deeper and wider for a drainage system they’d install later. Her shovel struck something hard—stone. With a groan, she knelt down, brushed away the dirt, and uncovered a flat rock embedded into the ground. Too big to remove by hand.
“Luna,” she muttered, not because she expected help, but out of habit.
Luna padded over and sniffed the rock. Then she did something unexpected—she leapt onto it, landing with a heavy thud. The ground around it shifted slightly. Vikulya raised an eyebrow.
“Do that again.”
Luna jumped off, circled back, and leapt once more. This time, the edge of the rock cracked, loosening just enough for Vikulya to wedge the shovel underneath and pry it free with a grunt of victory.
“Teamwork,” she said, smiling. Luna flicked her tail in silent agreement.
By late afternoon, three clean trenches lined the clearing. The area looked different now—structured, purposeful. The first bones of something bigger. Vikulya sat at the edge of the last trench, Luna beside her, both watching the sun begin its slow descent behind the trees.
The hard work was just beginning. But they were ready.
