ALL NOVEL Book One: Leap - Chapter Forty-Six: This big
As usual, I wake with the sun. Testing a small chunk of my potato-replacement, I look forward to the time when I’m able to eat enough of it to actually make my stomach feel like there’s something in it, rather than the emptiness which follows my ‘breakfast’ with it now. I’ve got high hopes for this thing - if today goes well, I’ll be trying a greater quantity tomorrow morning and then, hopefully, after that I’ll be able to try adding it to my stew of pondweed and bird meat. Honestly, without any sort of seasoning apart from a very small amount of salt, it’s not great, but if I can have a starchy tuber to turn the thin liquid into something more soup-like, it will improve the situation.
Once I’ve found some basics to eat, I can try looking for things that will flavour my food a little, but honestly, it’s not a priority at the moment.
As I eat, I muse about the lack of waste I now produce. I used to fill a bin bag every week or so, even living on my own. And that’s not even including the amount of recycling that I produced as well. Another bag every two weeks. Now...what I don’t eat or use came from nature, so I just return it to nature. Bones and useless hide I drop in the forest to be stripped clean or eaten away by scavengers. Discarded flint shards are just left to lie where they fall, immediately becoming part of the forest floor.
Even my fires don’t produce much waste, and I’m collecting what they do produce to use for the various crafts that require ashes. Bits of food neither I nor Spike eat like the stems of the pondweed plants are currently building up in a hole I got Spike to dig for me – when it’s half full, I’ll cover it over and start another one, probably planting seeds or these tuber things in the first hole once it’s had a bit of time to compost. The circle of life right there.
It’s a very different story from modern life where I was so disconnected from nature around me. It makes me think more deeply about humanity’s place in the world. Right now I’m back to basics, all the way back from the Cyber Age to the Stone Age, with only a metal knife and some modern fabrics to prove that anything else ever existed.
Once more, I can’t help thinking that there’s a part of me that’s...comfortable, content with my place here, for all the hard labour that it entails.
Speaking of hard labour, time to get going again since I’ve finished my tuber. What to do… My clay is going to take a bit of time to dry, several days at least. Once it is dry, I’ll need to fire it, so for that I’ll need to make a pit and collect enough firewood to keep the fire burning for hours. That’s going to take time, but not days. Well, the pit might, but I’m going to get Spike to help with that. As usual it’s a bit of a catch-22 situation – it would be easier to collect firewood if I could chop chunks off bigger pieces that I find on the ground, but for that I need my axe, and I won’t have my axe before I’ve made the pitch which requires the pots to be fired…
I sigh in frustration. I’ll just have to cope with smaller pieces of deadwood, but that means I’ll need more of it. At the same time, I need to make my flint arrow-heads at some point, plus process the sinew for attaching the feathers to the arrows, not to mention to make the bowstring as well. Lots of things to do – what’s the best order?
In the end, I decide that I might as well start digging the pit as that’s likely to take the longest time. Well no, the flint arrow-heads are likely to take the longest, but I won’t need them until after all the other things are done, so I’ve got time.
Walking out of the cave, I greet Kalanthia. The giant leopard reminds me that tomorrow is my baby-sitting day. I shrug and agree – it doesn’t impact me hugely: I still need to dig my hole. Maybe Lathani will find the hole interesting enough that she won’t be trying to explore down the hill. I make a mental note to spend some time roasting extra pieces of meat for her in case she needs a bit of bribery. Hopefully Kalanthia won’t overreact again now she knows I’m not trying to Tame her cub.
“Spike?” I call and then stop and listen. Nothing. Hmm, he must be off foraging. Ah well, I’ll just get started by myself then. Grabbing a stick out of my Inventory which I set aside when I realised it might be good for something other than just firewood, I look at the ground around me thoughtfully. I don’t want to put this pit anywhere it might pose a danger to a certain nunda cub. But at the same time, I don’t want to go far from the cave as I’m going to have to keep a sharp eye on my rudimentary kiln when it’s lit.
In the end, I pick a spot not far from where my chimney opens onto the outside. Using my digging stick, I start breaking the ground. It’s hard work, and sweaty, especially when the sun rises higher and starts warming me up even further.
It’s also slow work, far slower than it would be with a shovel, let alone with some sort of mechanical digger which could probably do my job here in ten minutes or less. I have to use the digging stick to break up the ground, and then my hands to scoop the loose dirt out of the hole.
The first bit is the hardest as I have to break through the net-like roots of the ground-covering plants. With a spade it would be easier as I’d be able to cut them; here, I have to basically just use the stick as leverage and my hands to do the rest. Needless to say, the skin on my hands takes a beating between the rocks, roots, and blisters from my hold on the stick.
Actually, by the time I pause for lunch, I feel like a big ball of pain. My hands are the worst, of course, but my knees hurt from skin being pressed into rough ground, my neck is burnt, and my back aches from being in the same position for a long time. I stretch with a moan, the change of position both a new pain and relief from pain. Checking my stats I can see that I’ve even lost a couple of points from my health bar! I’m curious about what my health regen is like so I don’t actually cast a healing spell on myself as I go and get food.
Munching on some meat hungrily in the blessed shade, I watch as my hands – washed clean of dirt – slowly repair themselves. I do end up casting Lay-on-hands by the time I finish lunch because they’re not healing fast enough by themselves for me to be able to pick up the stick again without wincing. Still, the fact that I was able to see a visible improvement in my injuries in such a short amount of time is impressive. Perhaps super-human healing isn’t so far off after all…
I keep going as long as I can, eventually giving up somewhere after mid-afternoon from sheer exhaustion. I’m a lot more used to hard labour now than I was when I arrived, but it’s only been a couple of weeks, after all – Rome wasn’t built in a day. Still, I’ve made some progress and the speed of advancement only grew when Spike returned and helped me out.
I’ve stripped the turf from a circular shaped area, about two metres in diameter - the size of my future pit. I’ve placed the sods of earth around the edge of the hole to delineate it a bit. I’m planning on doing the same with at least some of the soil and then forcing sticks into the pile to create something of a barrier to a certain cub.
I watch the cub in question with an indulgent eye. Lathani’s been very interested in what I’ve been doing all day. Currently she’s scrabbling in the dirt, investigating the various bugs and worms which have been revealed by the removal of their ‘ceiling’. As I watch, she pokes at one bug with a curious paw.
Unlike the other bugs which ran away as quickly as possible, often turning themselves over in their haste, this one just raises its mandibles and stands its ground.
“Um, Lathani, I wouldn’t-” I start saying as she squares up to it eagerly. Poking at the creature again, she’s surprised when this one bites back, its mandibles sinking into her fur and – probably – pricking her skin. She’s more surprised than hurt, but panics, especially when she shakes her paw and the bug stays attached.
Making cute little sounds of distress, she dances around flailing her paw back and forth. She honestly looks ridiculous. It’s a big bug, sure, but she’s bigger than any house-cat – it just looks so small in comparison to her that it’s unbelievable that this little thing should have such an impact on her. Still, I muse even as I rush forwards, it’s probably as ridiculous as a full-grown adult panicking over a bee or a wasp. Or a spider. I shudder at the thought, my own feelings of fear only deepening at the memory of that spider-horror that attacked me a couple of days ago.
“Lathani, calm down, it’s OK,” I say as I move forwards. “Hey, stop and I’ll get it off you.” She doesn’t pay me any attention, still bouncing all over the place. Still, the situation resolves itself when the bug loosens its grip and goes flying away into the bushes thanks to Lathani’s flailing.
What is amiss? Kalanthia’s voice makes me jump. I see her peering out of the cave, wariness in her posture. Lathani makes a plaintive wail and runs towards her, cuddling into her leg as soon as she gets close enough.
“A bug bit Lathani,” I tell her mother. “She finally managed to shake it off just now.” The cub sends me what can only be a betrayed look. Somehow, I know exactly why I earned that look. “I swear, it was massive – this big,” I add, holding my hands out to indicate something small-dog sized. Lathani’s gaze shifts into something more satisfied and she turns her head back into her mother’s leg. I wink at Kalanthia and shift so I now show her the real size of the creature.
I see, Kalanthia says, sounding amused. Perhaps you should be more careful around bugs, my cub, she continues, obviously projecting to both of us, however that works with her weird mind-to-mind communication. She and her cub withdraw back into the cave with a final glance around to, I guess, check there are no threats. I put my digging stick back into my Inventory and then sit down in the sun for a little rest. I’ll probably go and collect some firewood with the rest of my evening, but I need to recoup my energy a little.