Cam is dipping a grilled cheese sandwich into a bowl of tomato soup when he feels the summons. He goes ahead and grabs it. Doesn't even drop the sandwich.
"Sorry, no. But I can try to explain what I know. Can we land first, though? Harpies are annoying. Where's your guide? You have a guide, right?"
Another harpy appears, and this time doesn't even get a chance to fire off a shot before the girl explodes it.
The wood-winged girl follows. She explodes one more harpy on the way, and amid the shower of gore, several silver and copper coins rain onto Cam. "Sorry!" she calls. "The blood and stuff vanishes after a few minutes."
The girl does nothing obvious to the trees in the guide's immediate vicinity. They collapse in showers of numerous small wooden cubes and rarer, similarly sized acorns. She goes around sweeping up the cubes and acorns out of the grass.
The wooden cubes merge when they touch one another, but the resulting cube is always the same size as either of its individual components. Sable collects them up into a single consolidated cube.
"You didn't cut them!" Cam accuses. "What's the deal with the cubes? What did you have against those trees in the first place?"
The guide is still standing with a smile on his face, holding out the sack. He has rotated so the sack is toward Cam. He chooses this moment to inform them, "You can build a shelter by placing wood or other blocks in the world. Don't forget to create and place walls."
"Yep, that's the plan," says the girl. She straightens up, tucks the consolidated acorn into a smallish pouch at her waist, and holds the consolidated wooden cube in her hand. Much bigger wooden cubes, two feet to a side, appear on the ground near the guide; more and more cubes appear stacked on top of the initial ones, until the guide is completely enclosed in a small wooden building with two-foot-thick walls and no apertures.
The girl offers him her small wooden cube. "You can try it if you want. What do you mean, box him yourself?"
"I said demons make stuff," Cam said. "If I wanted to put a creepy dude of limited vocabulary in a box I would just - make a box." He holds out his hand; he makes a small box.
"...That's useful," she says, staring at the box and lowering her hand. "What can you make? What can't you make?"
"Can't make antimatter, can't make things containing vacuum if I'm not starting from an environment thereof, can't make things that begin in motion although I can do 'under tension', 'in midair', and 'on fire', need some idea of what I'm trying to make - for instance, for books, title and author is best - final product can't break the laws of physics. Usually. The laws of physics are obviously a very loose concept here; I don't know if I can make one of those cubes." He chucks his box into the grass and tries to make one of those cubes.
"...does this... does this mean you can make food," she says in tones of dawning realization. "Real food. Real food that doesn't contain mushroom, goldfish, or rabbit. Or squirrel or penguin or duck or frog or fucking blueberries."
"...Yes. Yes I can. Here, have a sandwich." He hands her a sandwich on nice crusty sourdough with a slab of fried chicken and some lettuce and a slice of tomato and some melting cheddar cheese.
The cube has cubeness. It contains precisely one cube of wood, which he can place wherever he likes.
Meanwhile the girl is eating her sandwich like it is the best thing she has ever tasted.
And the girl has finished her sandwich. "Thank you so much!"
"You're welcome. Can I get you anything else? Also, how deep do these cubes stack?" He makes a third and adds it in.