The sun hung low over the forest clearing, painting everything in muted gold. Kelvin’s large, human-like form bent over the rough logs, methodically stacking them for the frame of the cabin. Sweat glinted on his brow, muscles flexing with each careful lift, oblivious to anything outside his immediate task.

A hastily scribbled note is pressed against his chest, swinging gently in the breeze. Kelvin doesn’t notice. He hoists another log onto his shoulder, steady and sure, humming softly—a soundless rhythm only he feels in his body.

Without warning, a rustle to his side makes him startle violently, his massive hands jerking. The log slips, tumbling down with a heavy thud—landing squarely on his foot. "Aghr!" Kelvin curses in a low growl, hopping on the other leg, glaring at nothing in particular, entirely unbothered by the reader except for the minor discomfort, his deafness making the world oddly slow to register.

He shakes his foot, mutters something unintelligible, and bends back to the logs, as steady and patient as ever, waiting silently for the next note to guide him.