Standing up, she returned to the task she had left to think. Since the meat would be done soon. She would need a good pack to carry it all.

Using the abandoned sacks around the area. She had fashioned some repairs for her boots and chest wrap. Which left her with a few pieces to tie into the bag itself.

The boar wasn't big, but did have sturdy bones to create a framework for the cloth and salted fur to wrap around. She had to make more crude string.

She hated making the string. Especially since she had made so much of it recently. Usually, her father had balls of twine she would use for her traps in the forest.

Of course, she hadn't saved any, because her father had been adamant about her having and keeping the skill. Which she was happy for, but also annoyed at how sore her fingers were getting.

Mostly, because it showed she was weak. Only a couple days out on her own, and she had almost died, was getting cramps in her body, and was frustrated from sleeping on the ground.

Even if she had spent days out in the forest previously. There was something about the knowledge of going home to sleep in a comfortable bed. That made it not as bad.

Now, she was preparing food and having to make her own travel bag. She twisted more bark fiber in the weave. It was frustrating how much she had lost.

---

"Rule 8, never become complacent!" Olaf shouted, and threw another rock at her. Ingrid barely dodged into another tree before the branch she was on was ripped away.

"Always be alert for dangers and risks, a complacent Warrior, is a dead Warrior." His words punctuated with a pair of rocks this time. Both hit home on the branch, but Ingrid was already moving.

This game was simple at least, and she almost enjoyed playing it with her father. Though she wouldn't ever tell him that since he would likely stop or make it much harder.

The rules were simple. She had to avoid the rocks while remaining in the trees. Her goal was to get close enough to touch him, which was simple once she learned a few tricks.

She reached her prepared spot, and grabbed the rope hanging from the branch. Using her body weight for momentum she swung around the trunk grabbing the long staff she had hidden near the base.

A rock crashed into the trunk near her, but missed due to her speed. Which allowed her to swing partway back up, and into the canopy once again.

This was a new trick she wanted to test out. She had used a spear to poke him before, but she was certain he was prepared for her to do something about it now. Like he said, a complacent Warrior was a dead one.

Three rocks whistled through the air as she leapt from branch to branch. Most of her stopping spots being taken out only a second after she reached them now. Soon, he would start to predict her movements and take out future landing spots.

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She would have to make her plan work before that happened. Swinging the staff in circles to build momentum, she had to use care to not get it tangled up. When the next rock came for her, she swung the staff at the stone.

Thunk

The sound was music to her ears as it went sailing off into the forest. Not what she was hoping to do, but it gave her a defense. Now she just needed to practice on him. She grinned.

---

The bag was done just a few minutes before the smell of the meat changed, indicating it was ready to travel. It wasn't done perfectly, like the hunters could do, or her father, but enough that it would last a few days.

She grabbed some of the salt sheets that sat in pools left behind by crashing waves, and crumbled them over the strips of smoked boar. She had already used some for the smoking, but more salt would help keep them for longer.

Though she would need a lot of water for the trip. It was lucky that her stash had included a basic sewing kit and a water skin. Otherwise, there would be a lot of fighting in the woods for water.

Beasts and animal always knew where water was, but that meant there was almost always a fight for water. Her father had shown her several places to stop for water along the road from Merin when they travelled it before.

Yet, it was so long ago, she was sure many of the landmarks were different enough she wouldn't recognize them. With the pack done, meat packed, and supplies attached to the bag via string.

She was as ready as she could be for this trip, but there was still the need to be careful. Bloodaxe Clansmen could be along the road or even Beasts. Though the latter would be good for her growth, and she did need to grow.

She had her Heart, but that was only the start of the journey. And, it would take a few Hunts to reach the first rank of Warrior, Drang. A lot of village fools thought you became one after your first Hunt.

Something her father told her was true, but only if their Technique and Heart were of the lowest quality. They would never reach anything higher than Drang no matter how hard they tried. That was why the Technique was so important, as was the number of rings you made.

Jogging up the cliff path, she flexed her fingers and marveled at the strength hiding in them now. Her Heart had barely begun it's work on her body, but she could now easily strip trees of their bark. And, even rip branches off trees with ease, granted not the ones as thick as her arms but still.

The cliff path would lead into town, where she could follow the dirt road to Merin. Considering how she felt when she reached the burnt remains of the town walls. She figured she could make the trip in three days.

She had vague memories of it taking almost a week, but she had been walking on her own with her father. Now she was older and Megin would make it easier. The only issue would be hunting some creatures for the Cap.

She had become aware of the strange thing in her previous fights. And, when she had the chance to meditate and rest, she could see it flowing within her blood. It was unsettling to look at, but it did release a slow trickle of golden sparks into her.

Unnatural words slipped into her head when she looked at it confused. Informing her that it was refining the Wyrd from the things that it ate. It might not have been a lot, but it was far more than you should have gotten from such an easy kill.

With her feet pointed south-east and looking towards the road. She felt a sense of melancholy and loss. She would be starting her own journey now, one without her father or a place to call home.

It was something that all Warriors did eventually, but usually when they became Drang. And, usually when they were closer to 14. She wouldn't be 11 for a few more moons, and be on a journey far more important that most when they left home.

It turned the feelings into anger, anger at the men of Clan Bloodaxe. She would travel this road until she found allies, and grew strong enough to take back the honor they broke.