Chapter 6

Shing-Shing! Shing-Shing! Shing-Shing!

This is the fourth wooden spear I’ve made, the process to reach this point has been arduous. I leveraged the dagger against the piece of wood, that stood at about a meter and a half. I dug the dagger a few centimeters into the wood, then swiftly pushed the knife upwards towards the sharp end of the stick. The key to making a good spear is to harpen it enough that it has a decnt point, but not so much that the tip becomes brittle. It's similar to how one sharpens a pencil, enough to write well with, but not so much that you can't write at all.

A new shaving fell into the small pile that had begun to accumulate on the ground between my legs. When I first decided to start hunting, it was almost impossible. The spears broke more times than not, the clubs were to slow, and the small prey I tried to capture were far too fast for me to catch up to.

I tried everything, from hiding in trees like my old self did, to laying bait like I’d seen in the movies. Nothing worked, the experience was truly frustrating.

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"HOW THE FUCK!" I yelled in exasperation once more.

'This is impossible!' I thought while clenching my bone knife against my head.

"If I'd been smart enough to take a couple of bones from the loki- wolves," I correct myself "I wouldn't be in this predicament, and bone spears are stronger anyway... at least I think," I mutter as I grab another piece of wood.

This has been happening for over an hour, and I'm honestly at my wits end! The only bright side to all of this is that I've finally managed to find decent sticks and tree limbs without too much trouble. The large stack of broken limbs and wood shavings that was swiftly piling next to me a testament of that.

"AGAIN!" I yell, smashing yet another failed product to the ground.

"Fuck it, who needs spears anyway?!" I said, questioning the air around me.

Picking up a large limb, I decided to simply bludgeon any animal fool enough to approach. Finding a good tree, I simply waited... and waited... and waited.

"Nothing?" I uttered confusedly, this spot was a high traffic area for hares.

Just as that thought crossed my mind, a plump hare hopped into the small clearing, eager to munch on the berry bushes near it.

Immediately, my heart rate skyrocketed, and my breathing became erratic. A surge of adrenaline coursed through my body as my muscles tightened in anticipation of what I'd do next. The moment that the hare lifted its head in worry, whilst scanning the surrounding area, I pounced.

"HAAH!" I yelled with vigor, while smashing the club downwards.

I felt the thud of something soft coming into contact with my club, and when I looked down to see the gory mess of a felled hare, I was met with upturned and moist ground.

'I missed?!?' I thought, as I watched the hare run into the duff and disappear.

"That was only the first try, next time will be different!" I asserted, more to convince myself than anything.

But 8 hours later the outcome was the same, no matter what smart little trick I tried to employ, I couldn't even catch a hare, much less a larger animal!

Sighing as I dragged my weary body back to my "home" I decided 'I have to figure out how to make spears. My life depends on it.'

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Sleeping, suprisingly, was my saving grace. From learning which animal was close simply by the way that it breathed, to properly hiding myself and masking my scent. The dreams showed me the way to survive in this wilderness, while my modern mind made the methods more efficient. For instance, I am still to scared to start a fire, yet I need to eat meat. I remember reading about how the Mongols would cook meat by putting it between the horse and the saddle, and letting friction cook it. I’ve done the same thing by putting meat at the bottom of my shoe and putting hide between it and my foot. The result is barely cooked meat after a day of hunting and foraging, but at least its edible, albeit a bit smelly.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The goal today is to hunt a dambi, or deer in English. I’ve been following a herd of them for the last two days and I’ve finally decided to hunt one. Of course, I could’ve attacked them while they were sleeping or even when a youngling strayed from the herd, but my other mind told me better. It reminded me that these animals need to drink water eventually, so if I followed them, I could find a water source.

At the thought of water, I quickly peek my head through the tall grass and thick bushes I’m currently hunkered in. Before me lies a lake of large proportions. Around the edges of the water there is nothing but orange-ish sand and sparse trees. To the left of the lakes is a wide clearing, which the dambi are currently grazing from. I am a small way to the right of the clearing, where the grass meets the trees, and the forest grows undisturbed.

After watching the dambi drink from the lake, I’ve all but confirmed there are no major predators lurking in the depths, such as alligators or anacondas. Now all that is left to do is to prepare myself for the hunt, and the next steps of my plan should it be successful. I gripped the newly made spear tightly as I slung the other three on my back. Held firm by a small circle of hare fur and a long sling of poorly sown and patched fox hide that went over my shoulders and under my arms.

“It’s time to hunt.” I whispered to myself as I slowly slank towards the dambi.

A little closer and I will be in position. It took me almost 30 minutes to reach where I am now, only 20 meters away from the dambi. I slowly and silently peer through the grass until my eyes lock on my targets. After observing this herd of dambi for the last couple of days, I was able to spot the old, weak, or wounded. Those would be my targets today, one of the dambi had a scar shaped like a star on its right flank, and due to that walked while leaning heavily on it’s left side. That wound couldn’t be caused by any predators in this forest, do other humans live in this forest too? No. Doesn’t matter, all that matters right now is the hunt.

I slither through the grass, watching out for any dry leaves or small twigs that could give me away. I simultaneously keep an eye on my targets movements while also ensuring that the tall grass I’m moving through doesn’t shake more than the wind would cause it to. This part of the hunt is the hardest, the last few meters before you reach the kill zone are the most important.

When I am no farther than 10 meters away from the dambi, and I know moving any closer will expose me. When I hear its slightly pained breathing and can see the juices that dribble from its mouth as it nibbles on the grass, that’s when I know I have reached the kill zone.

I slowly reach for the extra spears on my back and unsling one, the fur surrounding the spears preventing any grating noises. Once the spear is out, I lay it on the ground beside me. Now I must choose, between the old and the injured, which should I kill first?

My initial thoughts were, “obviously the old one, it’ll be an easier kill.”

But then the true hunter in my brain, the Pino side of myself instead suggested,

“Kill the injured one first, the old one will have a much harder time of running away.”

Who am I to argue with the incarnation of myself who’s lived in these lands since birth?

I watch the injured dambi, weary of any sudden movements, finally after 15 long minutes of observation I understood its pattern. When it bowed its head once more to graze on the lush grass, I made my move. I raised myself up slowly, took aim, leaned back and threw the spear forth with all the might I could muster.

The spear whistled through the air at an amazing speed as it spanned the short distance, tearing through some of the blades of grass as it sailed towards its target. The sudden noise caused the injured dambi to raise its head in alert, just as anticipated; the spear landed true lodging itself deep in the neck of the injured dambi.

“That blow will be fatal.” I thought.

I quickly reached for my other spear without even looking for it. Once I felt my hand secure around the shaft of the spear, I began to line a shot up with my next target. The injured deer attempted to bleat, to warn its herd, but the spear stuck in its neck only allowed for a blood-filled warble.

This however was enough, many of the dambi raised their ears and became tense. Knowing that they’d likely flee soon, I did the only thing I could think of.

“AWOOOOO” I howled.

The sudden sound of a wol- a lokin, caused the dambi to freeze in instinctual panic, only for a moment. This moment, however, was enough time for me to make my move. Having already begun to line up my shot, all that I had to do was throw the spear. The spear once again sailed through the tall grass, making its way towards the old dambi. This time, things didn’t go as smoothly, the old dambi began to run, so the spear missed the intended target of its chest, and instead embedded itself shallowly in its side. As the dambi ran the spear was shaken out and fell to the ground, whilst the old dambi escaped through the trees along with the rest of the herd.

I considered giving chase… but I didn’t need more meat, anyway, hunting any further would be a waste of time and energy.

“I’ve weakened the old dambi so the next hunt will be easier.” I thought as I pulled out my bone dagger and moved towards the felled dambi.