My awakening is gentle. Shapes swim lazily in my view and slowly get sharper. Sounds and smells gently ease me into a lucid state and...it’s nice. I did not notice it before but each and every day I woke up in a maximum state of readiness. Every time I felt like my mind just had to crash through the window of haze first before it started to function.

Yesterday’s antics are a bag of mixed results but it appears to have changed something. I did complete my storytelling and cracked jokes, said I gonna take as many pictures for Dad as possible before going back. But there was also sadness. I did not break into a sobbing, sniveling mess but the mood took sharp dive down when I started to apologize for things I already apologized for in the past.

That actually threw me in for a loop. I must have a lot of repressed baggage, still sitting somewhere in the dark cellar of my mind. But as I said, a mixed bag. I do feel rested though and will gladly accept any blessing now, no matter how small.

As I make my way to the stream I notice that the world looks a bit different. Up until now every sight, every smell, and sound had my heckles raising. Every sensation had my nerves fraying. And now this forest is just that, a forest. It lost its haunting quality or It’s just me who adapted. And I will overcome. I have shelter, a source of drinkable water, and from what I saw in the immediate vicinity, a source of food. Mushrooms are plentiful and once I have learned where to look for them, small grublike insects. It should let me coast for a bit until I can find another source.

Refreshed, I start gathering. Again, small and big stuff finds its way to my impromptu stick backpack. Which broke once when I tried to pack it with too many stones. This resulted in me making more frequent hauls at half the capacity but can’t help it. I also found a leaf that had the shape of a half-cup which allowed me to bring back some water for Jim.

I really neglected him and the small guy was not really in high spirits. I left him with few additional shrooms and that water I brought. Since I was feeding him now a variety of shrooms I eat normally now, he ought to be okay. I thought animals would not eat the harmful stuff voluntarily, but perhaps those shrooms are no good for him? I sigh and go back to scavenging, preparing myself for a slog.

-&-

Days pass and notches on the cave’s wall grow in number. I know that I have missed a few when I was still reeling in throes of black haze but nothing for it.

The atmosphere in the forest changes. It buzzes with anticipation and I do not know what that means. As always only small insects are found, hidden, under fallen trunks and rocks. Birds song only graces me when I visit the stream, coming from beyond the bamboo forest. There are no small critters around, no frogs, no snakes, no spiders. It makes me jittery and I can’t help but wonder if I should run the hell away from here. No go, the Cure is here and I don’t have any container yet for it. My range is pretty damn small. It has to be in case of emergency, I have to be able to somewhat crawl back to it. As for DSS, its boundary does not progress outwards. It made me exhale the breath I did not I was holding. Yet every day I feel my heckles rising higher and higher, something’s afoot and I don’t know if DSS is the source of this eerie sense.

Despite my uneasiness, I can say I did a good job and am still doing great with...sigh, fine let’s call it crafting. I did not want to demean my situation but when I calmed down I just saw game references around. I was big on games and did play several that featured base building and surviving in the wilderness. Of course, they have absolutely nothing on the real deal but I was still bombarded by my imagination. Is it bad? I do not know. Yet when I was done with repressing myself things just started to flow. Mayhap I’m under such mental strain that any effort to force things down has a serious dampening effect on me? At least that’s the feeling I get.

I did my best to recall every small tidbit of information on waving plants and fibers. Every picture and video I could accurately recall was broken down and analyzed in minute parts. Same with knapping and starting fire. I did manage to find thick long grasses, growing close to the stream, and they proved to be a superb waving material. It took many failures but I found a reliable way to make baskets now. That grass after baking in the sun for a bit becomes stiffer and retains its shape but is still nicely springy. Now I am the proud owner of a big tough basket style backpack, several other baskets of varying sizes and shapes, and finally, a straw hat.

My efforts to produce flint tools were met with shocking failure. It was not on account of me trying not hard enough or using the wrong technique, I got those right enough. There is something wrong with flint found here. It is extremely brittle and I was asking myself if it even is a flint. But I’m damn sure it is. It looks exactly like I remember flint ought to be. With exception to it being so damn weak. When I tested the edges, it fractured easily when I tried to sharpen a stick. Sure, it bit down nicely in but just as fast went *pop*, and I was left with fragments.

But I found something with potential here. Some nodules, those with very grainy texture on the outside, house something, which at first I believed to be obsidian. But obsidian does not splinter as this stuff does. Obsidian is a volcanic glass and flakes. This stuff fractures and those fractures travel inside the nodule, reaching its center. It produces long, thin, triangle-shaped cones. The point and edges, if I knap right, are of superb quality and I already had the pleasure of cutting myself on accident. The negative is that I can’t hone the edges as I could with flint and obsidian. They break if I try to knap in almost every other angle than that following the axis from outside to nodules center. That means I have to get it right, each and every time. I have to strike pretty hard to get it to fracture and soon a stone is not precise enough for my needs.

Enter the bone. Jim’s big bro left me some souvenirs and with a bit of effort, time, and irritated hands because of lengthy grinding, I fashioned his bones into styluses with different points and flats. With a more precise tool now I got back to work with gusto. With time I was able to refine my technique. The cones got flatter and flatter, edges and points more processed. This material is a definite joy to work with. I produced a big number of ‘teeth’ of varying lengths. Some thin enough to be called needles. Which gave me a scary idea of using those as arrowheads. Since this material splinters along its length, it might shatter and cause grievous wounds and internal damage after breaching the hide of animals.

I remember that flint arrows and knives usually got small notches knapped at the back to easily fasten them with threads to handle or arrow shafts. Or just knap the handle in case of knives. I can’t do it with this material, it would just splinter. I decided to just grind the grainy back flat as much as possible, without damaging the edge, and make a handle that will sandwich the blade along its length and spine. If I can find a more tough wood later and some...resin? I could seriously use a good idea on how to make a glue-like substance here. I think you can get glue by boiling animal hides, but that’s long in the future. There might be something in the forest though.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Finally, after choosing the best specimens, grinding, swearing, carving wood, and fastening them with the best fibers I had, I had knives. Small, about index finger in length, some of them single and double-edged but definitely damn sharp. All that’s left is to check how well the edges hold and how the handles do under strenuous activity. They sure look dangerous, a pitch-black glossy sheen travels along the edges and I can swear it has a weak red reflection when seen under the light.

Despite my efforts to not let my internal geek out, I still got to call this material Black Crystal. Let him feast, if I can find bigger nodules I can definitely see some more impressive tools and weapons on the horizon. But the way this material splinters makes it not good for making axes. I really do need one to start processing bamboo. With bamboo, I can build myself a much safer shelter, and...there are just too many things I could make with it to count. Maybe I could arrange the small splinter teeth somehow into a saw? How would I do it? This idea seems to have merit and I will revisit it.

But now the time has come to finally get on with it and make fire. I debated how I should go about it, brainstorming ideas if I can machine this process a bit. I did prepare few small ‘bows’. I will then wrap a stick with its string and make it spin. I was worried that strings would chafe and break, which would make me lose progress. From the selection of plants I had on hand, I chose the most flexible and resilient. Then I made a few more, in case I have to quickly switch to a new one.

I admit I’m a bit apprehensive, the memories of my breakdown still fresh of when I tried making fire last time. I don’t know if those small quality upgrades would help me but I sure as hell wanted to improve my chances. A big piece of wood got dumped in front of my cave and I fiddled with it a bit. A section got scratched out with a knife into a bowl shape, and indentation has been made in the center to provide a guiding point for a fast spinning stick. A rock which snugly felt in my hand got a similar one, I will use it to press and guide. The finest and driest fibrous threads were put into the bowl to catch even the faintest of heat and without fanfare, I started to spin this circus. It was a harrowing task, at least that’s how it felt. Even with a bow-like method, I had to stop few times. Eather to sore muscles, stinging back, or hurting fingers.

I think I grabbed the correct technique and finally, the faintest of smoky wisps graced me. It was such a wonderful sight I almost forgot myself. A mad scramble ensued. With renewed energy I spun the stick like a frenzied man and when I felt I had enough time, cast the stick away, grabbed the bundle, and gingerly blew.

Fire.

Such a simple thing for a man from my world. You truly learn to appreciate things only when you lose them. The bundle got quickly deposited into a ring of rocks, delicately covered with sticks and then branches. Smoke stung my eyes but I did not care, even without it, I would be shedding tears of joy. Just as the fire grew in my brand new campfire, so has my hope.

-&-

“Just another, scratch on the wall…” humming along and butchering the lyrics, I mark yet another day. I stop there for a moment and just for the heck of it, I scratch out a stick figure with a raised spear in jubilation. My reason for being so upbeat? Few things. For starters my sleep cycle stabilized, sustenance and fluids are supplied and my body finally...I don’t know, is getting better? My diet is not very rich but I am no longer hungry. Roasted shrooms and insects are on the menu now and I wonder when meat finally gets back.

My nightly talks grew shorter. There is just not that much to talk about, sure, some new things happen but mostly, it’s the same daily slog of gathering, processing, and brainstorming. I feel good during those talks now though. Damn, my Dad, would go bonkers when seeing the sights here. Sure, I did not travel much further than before, but there are few things you can hang your eye on. Vibrant forest, majestic mountain, and nightly sky. I can already hear him slowly exhale and whisper ‘Camera, now’. I laugh weakly.

I exit the cave and pat the new cage I made for Jim. It’s made from bamboo branches and little fella now has his own place to hide from the glaring sun inside. Yeah, I’m an asshole and left Jim to bake in the sun before. I did apologize profusely but he just sent me a stink eye. I appeased him with two troughs made from split bamboo, one for water and the other for shrooms and insects. The sampling proceeds and Jim gives me a definite report on the edibility of presented snacks. Outside I made a small rack of dried samples, divided into edible and dangerous ones. I have a good memory but I want to have samples for comparison until I can perfectly recognize each and every piece.

Ah yes, I have water here now. All thanks to finally psyching myself and risking the other riverbank with bamboo forest. I had no friggin idea what I would find there but there were no surprises.

Since I’m still trying to figure how to effectively cut bamboo without an ax, for now, I’m just using my knives to bark the bamboo down as a beaver would. The knives are holding up nicely, as long as I don’t strain the blade at the wrong angle too hard it doesn’t fracture. I did lose a few, which required me to search for new material upstream. I wonder if this stuff got washed down from the mountain...no matter.

Some of the older, bigger bamboo trees have thick internal section membranes and testing showed it doesn’t let water through. Which led me to make a couple of ‘thermoses’ with fitting caps. A reliable way to transport water really did lift my spirits. I also made a cup and...small vial with a cork, made from smaller bamboo. I’m wearing it like a pendant for now and it’s filled with the Cure. With this, I feel safer exploring further from my cave. But before I attempt such, I need something to defend myself with.

Using knives I sawed down a thigh thick tree, the hardest I could find in the area. It took a long time and carving it was extremely boring but I shaped a long, thick, and heavy club with a handle made from coiling ropes. When I gave it a test swing it pulled me a bit along with its momentum but once I got accustomed to its weight, using it felt better. I hope a good whack from it could damage a raptor, that is if it doesn’t pounce and shred me to bits first.

Animals don’t like pointy stuff, right? I fashioned a couple of spears about my height but I still have problems with fastening the crystal blades on top. I tried to fiddle and made a fitting ‘socket’ at the top and then coiling it with rope as hard as I could. It worked but I still did not feel satisfied with it, it just did not feel firm enough.

Then, like lightning from a clear sky, air stills. My legs start to shake and I weakly collapse on my knees, not minding the blossoming pain. The black spots I have not seen since my second breakdown appear again in my vision. They promise death, demise I cannon run from. As I battle the encroaching darkness I hear fearful hisses, the rattle of Jim’s cage, and my furiously beating heart. Drenched in sweat like I would have just completed a marathon, I shake on all fours. It takes a moment to gather myself, but I manage to shakily set myself still and frantically look around. Nothing changed, there is no monster I can see nearby. When I look at Jim’s cage I see him shivering in his little hidey-hole. Sweet God, what happened?

I lift my club and scan the immediate vicinity of my cave but nothing seems out of place. Then I look towards the forest, and I know with a sinking sensation that I grew too familiar with this place, too careless and I just got jumped by something.