Dren’s Great Idea

Roam lumbered along a narrow, twisting path that skirted the edge of a shallow ravine. Its metal joints creaked rhythmically, and its body occasionally emitted puffs of steam, as if exasperated by its rider. Dren, perched atop it with a lopsided grin, was humming a tune that didn’t quite have a melody.

“I’ve got it,” Dren announced suddenly, slapping his knee with such enthusiasm that the construct emitted an annoyed whirring sound. “We need to find…the Big Thing.”

Sani, walking just behind, pinched the bridge of their nose. “What big thing, Dren?”

“You know,” Dren said, gesturing vaguely toward the horizon. “The thing that solves all the problems. Every story has one. Like…a secret treasure, or a lost artifact, or…a powerful friend.”

Tanin, who had been tinkering with a portable scanner that mostly didn’t work, looked up with an expression that straddled the line between incredulity and pity. “Dren, we’re trying to figure out how to cross this ravine without losing half our supplies. Maybe focus on that before you start hunting for magical solutions.”

“I am focusing,” Dren replied, clearly hurt. He patted the construct. “And I think Ol’ Clicky here agrees with me.”

The construct, predictably, said nothing.

As the group paused at the edge of the ravine, Sani and Tanin began discussing logistics in hushed tones. Their voices were calm but clipped, their attention focused entirely on the problem. Dren, meanwhile, leaned back on the construct and started tossing small pebbles into the ravine, entirely oblivious to the tension.

“What if we used the vines?” Tanin suggested. “They look strong enough to support us if we reinforce them with the spare cord.”

“And risk snapping them halfway across?” Sani replied. “No, we’d need to test them first, maybe build a support anchor—”

Dren suddenly leaned forward. “I’ve got it! What if we jump?”

Tanin and Sani both turned to stare at him.

“Jump,” Sani said flatly.

“Yeah,” Dren said, grinning as though he’d just invented gravity. “The construct’s got strong legs. It could make it easy! And then we could, uh, build a rope bridge for the rest of you!”

The construct emitted a series of clicks and whistles that, to anyone paying attention, clearly translated to absolutely not.

“You really want to fling yourself into the ravine and hope Roam sticks the landing?” Tanin asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah!” Dren said. “That’s what heroes do, right? I mean, I’ve read a lot of stories—”

“You’ve read half a book, Dren,” Sani interrupted.

“It was a big half,” Dren replied indignantly.

As the debate raged on, Sani finally threw up their hands. “Fine. Dren, if you’re so sure, why don’t you ask Roam what it thinks?”

Dren turned to the construct with complete sincerity. “What do you think, buddy? Should we jump?”

The construct tilted its head slightly, as if considering the question. Then, with deliberate slowness, it extended a clawed hand toward a nearby tree, snapped a vine free, and handed it to Sani.

“See?” Sani said, smirking. “Even the construct knows your plan is ridiculous.”

Dren crossed his arms, pouting. “I still think it could’ve worked. We’re just not thinking big enough.”

While the others worked on rigging a vine system to test the crossing, Dren sulked on the construct’s back. “Nobody ever listens to the guy with the ideas,” he muttered.

The construct, perhaps sensing his mood, extended one of its smaller appendages and gave Dren a gentle nudge.

“Thanks, Clicky,” Dren said, perking up slightly. “At least you believe in me.”

The construct emitted a single, low hum that could have meant anything, but Dren took it as agreement.

As the team finally tested their vine system and began making their way across the ravine, Sani paused to look back at Dren. “You know, you’re not useless, Dren. You’re…a morale booster. Sort of.”

Dren beamed. “Thanks! That means a lot.”

Tanin rolled their eyes but added, “And if we ever need someone to charm an angry mob or make a complete fool of themselves, we’ll call you first.”

“See?” Dren said proudly. “I am useful.”

As they reached the other side of the ravine, Sani glanced at the horizon. There, faint and almost imperceptible, was the shimmer of a distant structure—something huge, but it didn’t seem like anything human..

“Looks like we’ve got a direction,” Sani said.

“Yeah,” Tanin agreed. “Let’s hope it’s less dangerous than it looks.”

Dren, oblivious as ever, climbed down from the construct and stretched. “You’re welcome, by the way,” he said.

“For what?” Sani asked, bemused.

“For inspiring you,” Dren replied, grinning.

The construct emitted a series of rapid clicks that sounded suspiciously like laughter.