Elements 1

Tethering his horse to a nearby tree, D entered the woods. Gathering
dead branches as he walked, he snapped off the twigs before piling them on
his shoulder. When he returned to the road some ten minutes later, both
shoulders were loaded with as much as would possibly fit.
Piling the heap of wood on the ground like kindling for a fire, D began
digging up the soil. He didn’t use his sword, a stake, or anything else. With
all five fingers lying flat, he artlessly thrust his left hand into the ground,
scooping out clods of dirt like his hand was a shovel, and piling the dirt in a
mound beside the kindling.

But this was no plain soil. The earth was black and hard, packed solid
by countless passing loads. What indescribable strength that hand must’ve
possessed, to slide wrist-deep into the earth with such consummate ease. In
no time, he’d dug a hole big enough for one person to lie in comfortably,
and had accumulated a corresponding volume of dirt.

“We’re all set,” he said, smacking the soil from his hands.
“Not quite,” the left hand protested. “Earth, water, fire, wind—we’re
still short water. Bringing you back to life is one thing, but we can’t hope to
succeed in breaking out of a sealed dimension if we’re short even one of
them.”

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