By the time he awoke early the next morning, Nick felt recovered enough to survey the strip of forest that ran between his temporary base of operations and the new shoreline. It was the only part of the southern woodlands where he hadn’t seen any signs that the bonecrunchers had passed through the region. He started off his scouting run by hiking over to the spring, washing himself off, and refilling his canteen.
On his way, he kept an eye out for any stray berry bushes. But as he had expected, all the plants in the vicinity had been thoroughly harvested. Not only by the tribe, but by the other animals and beasts that had been driven inland when the beach biome sank beneath the waves.
While he walked, Nick pondered what he had learned from his close call the day before. The shrooms and the creeper vines have a symbiotic relationship. The vines are better at luring prey and the mushroom specializes in disabling creatures long enough for the creepers to go in for the kill. The corpses fertilize the ground and benefit them both. Their territory has better foraging than the rest of the island, likely because the animals have learned to avoid the region.
Taken together, he decided that the fungus/shroom duo were likely native to this world. A part of the local ecosystem. He had come to believe that the komos were not, based on how they had thrown themselves into the shark-infested waters of the bay when the searstorm broke over the island.
Judging by everything he had seen so far, the komos, crunchers, lurk, and lemurs seemed to have been placed on the island around the same time as Nick and were less aware of the isle’s dangers, although they appeared to be catching on over time. Perhaps there was some way to turn this dynamic to his advantage, although doing so would entail taking some significant risks.
Although his mind was busy plotting and planning, his primary goal was to hunt down a swordclaw and treat himself to a decent meal, now that he had a means other than the hot lava of starting a fire. It was his way of making up for the punishment he had inflicted on his tongue and stomach the day before. He left the spring heading due east, and soon Nick began spotting evidence that both the komos and swordclaws had moved into this part of the forest. Not long after, he stumbled across both species at once.
He heard the clamor of conflict well before he drew close enough to witness the action with his own eyes. He crept up as quietly as he could, peering out from behind a trunk while he watched the beasts’ battle. This time, two of the color-changing lizards had managed to corner a swordclaw against a cluster of boulders, cutting off its avenue of retreat in a tactic they had used against Nick back on his first day on the island. By the time he arrived on scene, the brawl was well underway, but it was clear from the blood-soaked earth that a furious melee had ensued.
One of the lizards lay dead in the dirt, cut nearly in half by the crab’s razored claws. The other komo seemed to care not a whit for the fate of its fallen brethren. It continued pressing the attack with a relentless barrage of blows.
The swordclaw had paid a heavy toll for its kill, likely due to being ambushed and outnumbered, and it was clear that it wouldn’t last much longer. Three of the beast’s legs had been bitten off, and heavy bleeding made its motions sluggish. Its increasingly desperate strikes lacked power and coordination. It wouldn’t be long before the crab succumbed to its wounds and was eaten by the lizard trapping it against the rocks.
This was an ideal situation for Nick to attempt his first real surprise attack. He was glad that he only needed to kill the komo. He would have felt bad slaughtering a swordclaw that was minding its own business, although by now he was willing to hunt to ensure his own survival.
He felt no such consideration for the brutal komos, who would invariably attack him on sight, not relenting until he was dead or managed to evade their pursuit. He tiptoed closer to the battle, which was now in its final stages. He timed his advance with the lizard’s attacks, using the sound of their melee to conceal his presence.
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Five minutes later, Nick was within striking range. He took off his backpack and pulled out his sword, adjusting his grip until he was sure that he could swing the weapon at the angle he desired. He set down his pack and snuck up behind the komo, creeping closer and closer, waiting for the right moment to strike.
As it happened, Nick didn’t have to wait much longer because the swordclaw abruptly retreated into its shell, having lost the strength it needed to actively defend itself. The instant it pulled back, the lizard charged, tearing at the bits of flesh it could reach through the cracks in the crustacean’s chitin.
He raised his sword high above his head, took a step to gather momentum, then brought the blade down on the komo’s back with everything he had. The lizard noticed his arrival at the last possible moment and began to turn, but it was already too late. It was an awkward swing, big on power but light on control. It never would have landed if the beast had seen the strike coming. But as a surprise attack, Nick was barely able to pull it off.
The jagged edge of the sword bit deep into the lizard’s torso, severing the spine in front of its rear legs. He leapt back as the reptile began dragging itself toward him, unleashing a final burst of strength to bring its assailant down with it. With the beast’s mobility curtailed, Nick was able to remain out of reach. Less than five minutes later, the komo fell unconscious from blood loss and soon drew its final breath.
He looked over and saw that the swordclaw had expired during the interim, sparing him the need to finish it off. Excited that one of his plans had concluded with no complications for the first time in memory, Nick walked over to the crab’s corpse, turned it sideways, and started shoving it into his backpack.
He was glad that, thanks to the pack’s magic, he didn’t have to worry about gore contaminating the bag’s interior along with the items inside. When he tried to put his sword back in, it wouldn’t move past the opening, no matter how hard he pushed. He realized that he must have reached the pack’s weight limit, as the crab’s shell was heavier than he expected.
With a shrug, Nick put the pack on and started making his way back to the great tree with a sword in hand. He was careful to hold the blade away from his body so he wouldn’t cut himself with an accidental touch. One day, he would have to find a proper sheath so that he could carry the blade within easy reach without having to worry about impaling himself every time he took a bad step.
It was quite a struggle to haul that much weight for miles. He figured that the effort was good progress toward raising his Strength, so it wasn’t all that inconvenient in the end. When he finally made it back to the clearing, Nick hung his pack in the branches of the great tree, then went to work building a fire pit. He double-checked his handiwork when he was finished, making sure that the ring of stones was sufficiently thick and that he had brushed the carpet of needles far enough away. The last thing that he needed was to burn the forest down around him.
Once he had collected enough firewood, he took out his new flint and steel from his toolbelt and spent a frustrating fifteen minutes learning how to use them. It had been long years since Nick had done any camping back on Earth. In the end, everything worked out, and soon he had a merrily blazing fire crackling in front of him for the second time since arriving on the Searing Isle.
All that was left was to figure out how to butcher the swordclaw’s corpse and enjoy his feast. Before he got to the hard part, Nick was going to cook up both of its claws, as he had already devised a workable method of grilling the meat inside during his original beachside barbeque.
By the time the first sizzling steak was ready to eat, Nick had realized that he was surrounded. Dozens of hungry eyes were watching him from all sides, and more were arriving by the moment, drawn by the delicious aroma of Nick’s grill. The only reason that he kept on cooking was that the eyes in question belonged to the lemur tribe. While their avaricious interest did make him a little nervous, he was pretty sure that the lemurs wouldn’t straight-up attack him to steal his dinner.
Just to be safe, Nick devoured the first steak before he started grilling the second claw. Nothing was going to stop him from eating his fill. He ate so fast that he barely stopped to chew, savoring the intense, wondrous flavor. Then he gestured for Bandit to come on over. The friendly lemur seemed both wary of and entranced by his fire.
Once the furry primate was confident that the flames would not leap free of their stone prison, Bandit sidled up to Nick’s side, looking up at the cooking steak with unmitigated fascination and longing writ clear upon his furry face. Although his stomach protested sharing even a bite of his feast, he couldn’t find it in himself to deny his friend the pleasure.
It seemed that Nick’s tree-side barbeque was about to become a full-on party.