I stand at the stream's edge and look at my gore-covered arms; blood and viscera reach past my elbows, with splashes over most of my torso. I start washing it off in the cold, fast-running water, watching the red swirl away. That had been a lot harder than I’d imagined. That beast was heavy, and, to be fair, I’d never really considered how my steak got from field to plate. This was very different from what I had in mind when I started. Clean now, I take a few gulps and turn back to survey my efforts with the boar.
‘Damn, Del, I can see why it's called butchery,’ I quip to myself.
In front of me is a pile of almost-joints of meat, hacked and chopped with little understanding or knowledge of the correct way to deal with a dead animal. Alongside it is a pile of guts, still slightly steaming in the fading afternoon light. Misty is happily tucking into something large and deep mahogany coloured. From its size, I’d guess it may be the liver.
The badly tattered remains of its skin lie in three uneven pieces, grisly side up. While doing my best to remove it from the carcass, I got notified that I’d learned the skinning skill. Any hopes of a butchery skill didn’t materialize. Looking at the mess in front of me, I’m surprised I even managed the skinning one. Thanks to that skill, I know I’ll have to properly prepare and preserve the skin if I want to make it usable. But for now, I’ve had enough.
“Right then, Misty, finish up. We’ll grab the best bits, then move on downstream before the night critters come out to find this pile of easy dinner.”
I pick out a slab of nice fatty belly and a leg haunch to take, wrapping them in the biggest bit of skin. I shrug back into my gear, make sure I have everything else, and continue down the stream.
About half an hour and what I feel is enough distance later, we find a small, shallow cave—more of a little hole—we can shelter in for the night. Dropping my bag and meat bundle, I start gathering dry wood for a fire.
“Go sniff around and see if there’s anything nasty nearby, Misty.” She looks at me and, with a little ‘Meep,’ disappears into the dusk. At the entrance of the little cave, I clear the ground and make a little hollow for my fire. I find a reasonably sized, flat rock and set it beside the fire.
‘Let’s see how right Bear Grylls was,’ I chuckle. In theory, the stone gets hot, and I can cook the food on it. I get the fire going and head back to the stream to fill my water bottle. Standing up, I stretch and feel the pops and crackles from my back and shoulders as I do.
‘You know, Del,’ I muse, ‘this could be a lot more shit than it has been so far.’
I slice off a good hunk of pork belly and lay it on the rock.
‘I need to look out for herbs and things,’ I think. ‘Salt as well—definitely salt. Maybe there’s rock salt somewhere.’ I laugh. ‘Really, Del? Planning to lick every damn rock you find in case it’s salty?’ In reality, I have no idea what salt would look like or where to find it. It sure wouldn’t be nice neat flakes and crystals ready for sprinkling.
As the meat starts to sizzle in its rendering fat, I look out from my little shelter. The cave is no more than fifteen feet deep and just tall enough for me to stand without worrying about banging my head. It smells earthy, and toward the back is a pile of leaf and grass litter, blown in by the wind, I guess. It’ll serve as a makeshift bed, and the fire at the entrance should dissuade anything too interested from disturbing my sleep. Misty returns, and I feel her mental nudge giving me an all-clear vibe.
“Alright, girl, dinner and bed sound good to you?”
I hack off a bit of the less-cooked side for her, and we eat in quiet contemplation.
I wake as the pre-dawn light is starting to color the distant sky. The fire I’d banked up the night before is glimmering with its dying sparks. With a bit of a shiver, I place a couple of branches on it and give the embers a poke to encourage it back to life. Misty is half-buried in the leaf litter at the back of the cave. She opens an eye lazily to look at me, then closes it again in disgust.
‘Too early for cats, obviously,’ I grump.
A little later, having broken my fast with the last of the bread and cheese, I wake the cat, and we head off on our downstream trek. For the most part, the morning passes pleasantly. The woods on either side of the river fill the air with the sounds of insects and bird life, with the occasional silver splash of a fish breaking the surface in the river. What was once a stream is broadening into a slower-flowing river, its burbling sounding in harmony with the song of the birds. The air is filled with the smell of damp earth and wood sap. Occasional plants catch my attention, and as well as more feldspar, I find a few other interesting herbal plants. Some I recognize as sorrel, sage, and dandelion. These will make a great addition to my efforts to cook a tasty meal. Others are ones I don’t know.
‘Identify’
Silverbloom: Medicinal plant. All parts are useful; the leaves and stems can be crushed and used in a poultice to encourage rapid healing of deep cuts and lacerations. The flowers, which give it its name, can be placed on the tongue to ease sore throats and coughs. The roots can be dried and ground to make a tea to fight infection and reduce fever.
Bloodroot Fern: Medicinal plant. Named for the deep red veins running through its leaves. Soften the leaves in hot water. Use it to wrap a broken bone; acts as a temporary splint as it dries and accelerates bone healing.
[Herbalism has increased slightly]
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
I gather what I can, pretty sure I miss far more interesting plants than I find. Misty continues to roam ahead, stopping occasionally to snack on an unwary mouse or a captured fish.
‘Damn cat’s having the time of her life,’ I think, smiling at her antics. I’m so glad I brought her with me. ‘I’d be going mad by now if all I had to talk to was myself.’
I stop as I see Misty freeze ahead with a quiet hiss, dropping to her belly. In a moment, I’m down low too, carefully looking around. Slowly, I unsling my bow and pull an arrow from the quiver, wishing I’d taken time to practice with the thing. Adjusting my belt so my sword and knives won’t catch as I crouch, I move as quietly as I can up to join Misty. Up ahead, in a small clearing, is a fire. Three goblins sit around it, with something in a rough burlap sack wriggling and struggling within.
The goblins are small and rough-looking, similar to the scout I encountered the other day. I don’t see any bows from where I hide, but each has knives, and one also carries a sword. Their clothing is essentially untanned skins and patchwork cloth. I could possibly sneak past them, but that would leave them at my back, and if they spotted me, things would get messy fast. I carefully scan the trees for other guards but see none.
‘Identify’
Goblin Grunt
Level: 0
Aggressive hunters and scavengers
Strengths: Dexterity, Cunning
Weaknesses: Being hit with pointy objects
Attacks: Dagger
Skill: Unknown
Lore: Usually found in small to medium-sized groups, often family-based. Known to be cowardly in nature, they prefer to run from a fight unless confident they have a distinct advantage.
Goblin Grunt
Level: 0
Aggressive hunters and scavengers
Strengths: Dexterity, Cunning
Weaknesses: Being hit with pointy objects
Attacks: Dagger
Skill: Unknown
Lore: Usually found in small to medium-sized groups, often family-based. Known to be cowardly in nature, they prefer to run from a fight unless confident they have a distinct advantage.
Goblin
Level: 1
Aggressive hunters and scavengers
Strengths: Dexterity, Cunning
Weaknesses: Being hit with pointy objects
Attacks: Sword, Dagger
Skill: Unknown
Lore: Usually found in small to medium-sized groups, often family-based. Known to be cowardly in nature, they prefer to run from a fight unless confident they have a distinct advantage.
‘Alright, Del, I’d assume the grunts are lowest on the goblin food chain, so priority is the other one.’ I look at Misty. I wish I could talk to her properly. Capturing her mind with mine, I indicate a tree between us and the green trio, signaling a pounce attack like before as they run under. She gives me one of her looks, but something must have got through as she disappears into the underbrush, and moments later, I see her scaling the tree. As I nock my arrow, I can’t help feeling a tremble—fear, anticipation, maybe both. Whatever the case, there’s no time to consider it now.
I steady my breath, feel my heartbeat slow, and wait for the right moment to loose. As the arrow flies, I quickly pull another and line up a second shot. The first misses the goblin I aimed for but luckily hits a grunt right beside his ear. With a little squeal, he drops to the ground.
[You have killed Goblin Grunt. Experience earned.]
The other two jump up and look in my direction. The goblin shouts something and points right at me just as I let the second arrow fly. As they pull weapons and head towards me, the bigger goblin takes an arrow in his arm. Growling angrily, he snaps it off and keeps coming.
[Archery has increased slightly.]
I drop my bow and pull my sword, and with what I’m sure is a fearsome battle cry—though others might disagree—I charge towards my foes.
Misty leaps, landing heavily on the back of the second grunt. It squeals, trips, and lands face-first in the dirt, with Misty furiously raking and biting its back.
[Misty has used Pounce on Goblin Grunt. Sneak attack, Critical damage.]
In the next moment, I’m face to face with an angry, sword-wielding green monster. I have a sword too; the only real difference is I’ve never used mine in anger except almost by accident when killing a big pig.
He slashes at me, and I jump back, barely avoiding the edge. I shove my sword forward, hoping to spear his chest, but he almost scornfully bats aside my blade and comes in for another strike. This time, he catches my arm, and now, in a karmic twist, we both have off-arm injuries. The only real difference is mine bleeds; his, still plugged by the arrowhead, only drips a little.
[Misty has killed Goblin Grunt. Experience earned.]
‘At least one of us can fight,’ I think, angry at myself. ‘C’mon, Del, sort this little bastard before he sorts you.’
I dodge another swipe, this time at my neck, and thrust back. As he tries to deflect it, I quickly change the angle downwards and slash heavily into his thigh. His turn to bleed now.
The goblin grunts with effort as I back away, and he hobbles towards me. Behind him, I see Misty lining up, ready to leap. As I see her spring up, I thrust forward, causing him to take a step back—right into Misty’s claws and teeth. He yells out in pain, distracted for a fraction of a second, and that’s enough for my sword to plunge into his chest. With a gasp, he falls backwards, sliding off my blade.
[You have killed Goblin. Experience earned.]
[Congratulations, you have enough experience to level up. Would you like to level up now?]
‘Well then,’ I say to myself. ‘There's a thing. Let's gather up what we can, Del old boy, then see what that is about by their fire. I don’t think they need it now.’