The colony awoke to the grunts and bangs of Gründ already hard at work on his wings. He had started as soon as the glow was bright enough to see, sorting in piles all the stuff he has gathered the pulse before and looking through all his possessions and previous attempts for the extra material he would need. Now, he was hammering nails to the wooden frame, an exercice made particularly awkward by the lack of an opposable thumb.

“Gründ! You’re up already! Great, we’re having another hunt today” said Baruf, surprised but happy to see him up and moving before anyone else.

“Can’t!” came the reply, followed by a bang and “ouch!” as the hammer slipped on a feather and landed on a hind paw.

“Could you maybe babysit Toxal then, and I’ll take your place?” offered Gotha.

“Busy!” and, when Baruf tried to argue, “wounded!” came out of a mouthful of nails. His nose did hurt, now that he thought about it.

It took him all pulse, without breaks, to get the frame assembled. It didn’t look like much yet, but Gründ was really happy with the progress and Haylir, when she came at last to give him some food, got as excited as him.

“This looks great! I think the size will work, once you have fitted the feathers and moss on it. Let’s just hope none of it falls when you flap…”

He had thought about it already, and had found the perfect solution: “you know the Bocti trees? Their sap is gluey, I’ll use it to fix the moss to the wooden frame, and the feathers to the moss, with an additional vine to tie it all up and secure it. That way, if the vine fails, it’ll still be glued, and if the glue fails, it’ll still be tied!”

Haylir was impressed. Gründ didn’t look like much of an intellectual, but he had a really good feeling for transforming things into usable materials. He was the one who had suggested to use fallen branches as carrying poles for big game, which was a lot easier to use than a stretcher, and didn’t get caught on the treacherous roots.

After a short rest, Gründ went back to work. His mind was buzzing with calculations and his heart beating so fast in anticipation that he couldn’t sleep much, and he used every moment of light to work on his wings. The others left him alone after Haylir had told them to, and since his nose was still throbbing and he kept hurting himself with the hammer, they couldn’t hope for his help with a hunt. In all honesty, despite their grumbling, they were eager to know what he would come up with this time. His attempts never failed to, at least, amuse them.

Gründ spent most of that pulse gathering sap from the nearby Bocti, applying it as fast as he could to the frame, putting carefully cut pieces of moss on it, and repeating that process. The sap needed to be liquid when he applied it, and it dried really fast. This time Haylir came to him when the Core was at its brightest, to check on his injuries and make sure he ate and drank enough. “Your wings won’t be of any use to you if you collapse before taking off!” she said. He couldn’t argue with a healer’s logic, even though he was certain that he could keep going another pulse without sleep or food. She wouldn’t let him, and he needed her help too badly to risk a fight.