Walking cross-country is easier during the day, who'd'a thunk? Especially with company.

Yojoti and I had been walking Southward for about an hour, with me learning vocabulary along the way. Yojoti would point at grass, or a bird, or the mountains to the West, and share their names with me. I did my best to remember them all, but no mind is perfect.

I wish I had somewhere to write down these words, at least phonetically. I'm sure there's a completely different writing system here that I'll have to learn as well. Whenever we make it back to civilization, I'll have to find somewhere to focus on learning the language. Well, I guess that depends on how much time I spend with Yojoti and learn from him, now that I think about it. It wouldn't be a bad idea to stick with him for a while and learn trapping and survival skills at the same time. On the other hand, I really hate the idea of being illiterate. I'll address it when the time comes, I guess.

"Ah!" Yojoti suddenly exclaimed. He said a new word and put his hand out, presumably telling me to stop, so I did. He then moved about ten steps away, and crooked his finger at me while speaking a word, which I guessed was "come". I repeated it and he said "Yes", still crooking his finger at me. I stepped forward and then he put his hand back out and spoke the original word, which was apparently "stop". I did so and repeated the word, receiving a nod in reply. I practiced the words while repeating the motions that Yojoti had made, and he gave me a "Yes!" in confirmation.

After that, he swept his arm out across the plain, and then hunched over and balled his fists, making a very angry-looking face, stomping back and forth, repeating a new word.

I guess that's probably "monster"? That first gesture looked like he meant there are monsters out there. Definitely need to be careful, then. I wonder if that word is for a specific kind of monster, like the gnoll I killed. Although if it were me, I'd use my hands to mime out a long snout and then fingers to imitate the ears. Heck, why don't I try that and see what the word for "gnoll" is?

I repeated the "monster" word, and received a "Yes!" from Yojoti. Then motioned for him to watch me and repeated his movements while using my hands to mimic the gnoll's features. Yojoti raised his eyebrows as he understood my meaning, and gave me the new word for that specific kind of monster.

Sweet. I should probably warn him about the dead one ahead. Hmm, what would the word for "dead" be anyway?

I drew my finger across my neck while sticking my tongue out and rolling my eyes back, then opened a hand to Yojoti, requesting the word. He gave a nod and spoke, and I repeated it to get the pronunciation right.

Pointing to the South, I said "House, gnoll dead."

Yojoti gave me the biggest look of surprise yet and rattled off a sentence that was clearly a question, but I hadn't any idea what he was asking. I put my hands up and stepped back to show that I wasn't getting it. Yojoti stopped and laughed, speaking to himself. Probably something like "oh yeah, he can’t understand me".

He then pointed at the machete hanging from my belt and asked "gnoll dead?"

"Yes," I responded. "Walk?"

Yojoti nodded and we were back "on the road". Except with nothing remotely resembling a road on which to walk.

-

It took two more hours, but we finally arrived at the shed. The first thing Yojoti noticed, after the shed itself, was the pile of earth next to the open grave.

He pointed to it and asked "gnoll?"

I nodded and said "Yes," as Yojoti stepped in that direction.

Coming to the edge of the grave, Yojoti set his pack down next to the pile of earth and looked down at the body of the gnoll, which now had maggots crawling everywhere and a stench to match. He was looking at it in an appraising manner, muttering to himself with his hand on his chin.

He then turned to me and spoke a new word, then gestured in front of himself at about arm's length, making "L"s with his index and forefingers, forming a frame.

Hey, that looks like about the size and position of the "Status" window! Apparently I'm not special, there. I wonder if he'll be able to see mine, or if you're limited to seeing your own? Huh, on that note, will using his new word open the window as well as me saying it in English?

I repeated Yojoti's word for "Status," and the gray window appeared as it had previously. Except, not exactly.

Whoa! This must be Yojoti's language! So that's what the characters look like. Pretty angular, I imagine it'd be fairly difficult to mess up brush- or pen-strokes while writing. Anyway, so the language you say "Status" in changes the display language? That's pretty neat. Kind of like a game automatically applying the user's computer's locale settings.

So, that at the top is what my name looks like? If it's a phonetic language, and each symbol is a sound, that would be too many syllables. Oh wait! This is a good opportunity to ask Yojoti.

The man himself was standing shoulder-to-shoulder with me, inspecting my stats with the same expression as he had used on the gnoll's body. I waved to get his attention, then pointed to each of the lines in the panel in turn, looking at him with my eyebrows raised.

He nodded and pointed at the first line which, if I remembered correctly, began with "Name:”, and read the word out loud for me. I repeated it and Yojoti nodded, moving down the list for each of the other items.

After going through the list, I pointed to each of the characters in my name in turn, with Yojoti reading the sounds out for me.

Huh, it does seem to be a phonetic language. But why all the extra syllables? Much too difficult a question to try to ask right now. Also not important at this moment. Vocab and speaking are priorities over writing in this situation.

After perusing my “Status” window for a bit, waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, and gave me a new word. I said it and the window disappeared.

I wanted to surprise Yojoti a little, so I said "Status" in English, and the window appeared. I gestured for Yojoti to look, but only received his "puzzled" face.

Huh. Why can't he see the English version? Is it because he can't speak English? No, I can't speak his language, but I was able to see that version. I wish I had a manual for this world. Wait. IS there a manual?

Out loud, I said "Manual," to no effect. Hmm.

"Menu?" Still nothing.

"Help." No reaction.

So is "Status" the only thing I have access to? While it's helpful, I feel a little let down. If this were a game, you'd think there would be more available to help new "players".

Deciding to leave the mysteries for another time, I dismissed the English "Status" window and went to stand beside Yojoti, who was again peering into the grave.

Without warning, Yojoti crouched down and dropped into the grave, fur-clad feet landing on either side of the gnoll's body. He pulled out his belt knife and quickly cut off the gnoll's pointed ears, then straightened up and placed them out of the grave before putting his knife away and hoisting himself back up.

I stared at him in bewilderment as he picked up the ears and held them out to me. When I didn't reach for them, he said "Ah!" and gave a knowing look. He stepped over to his pack and pulled out a stained piece of cloth--Maybe a handkerchief?--then wrapped the ears in it and held them back out to me. This time I took them and tucked them into my back pocket, still unsure why he felt the need to mutilate a body and give me the spoils.

Wait, spoils? Any self-respecting RPG would have some kind of adventurer guild where you can turn in things like this as "proof of subjugation". I think I get it now!

I cried out my own "Ah!" and smiled at Yojoti, reaching to shake his hand. He took the hand and smiled back, before pointing at the pile of earth and miming a digging action, sharing a new word I took for "bury". I pointed to the shed and led him over, stepping inside.

Once inside, the space felt quite cramped with two people filling it. Yojoti resumed his pensive stance, inspecting everything inside as he slowly rotated on the spot. Some things he glanced right past, and others he leaned close to stare at. The leaf blower received one such examination, including a look back at me with a questioning look, but I had to shrug and raise my hands in surrender.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

How the hell would I try to communicate the use of a leaf blower even if I DID already know the language? Anyway, we came in here for shovels, right?

I reached over to the flat- and spade-head shovels, offering both to Yojoti. He deliberated for a moment before choosing the spade, so I led the way back to the grave pile carrying the flat-headed shovel. We looked at each other and nodded, before setting to work.

-

It's amazing how much easier it is to fill a hole than dig one. Add another pair of hands to the equation, and it took less than half the time of digging! I even learned some words like "shovel", "dirt", and "grave" as we worked. That being said, it's about midday now, and I'm starving. I don't suppose Yojoti has more food to share?

Yojoti was leaning against the handle at the end of his shovel, mopping his face with another cloth that looked like the one he had wrapped the gnoll's ears in, but much cleaner.

"Yojoti? Midday, eat?" I asked in what must have sounded infantile speech to him. He nodded and held up a finger indicating that I should wait. He stretched out his back, then cast his gaze around the nearby grass until he spotted what he was looking for--which to me seemed to be one of the sporadically-growing yellow flowers. He knelt next to it and dug for a moment, before pulling the whole plant up, roots and all. And quite the roots they were!

Huh, that looks a lot like a potato! Sheesh, there was food all around me yesterday and I didn't even know it. Well, I suppose it's a good thing I didn't, or I wouldn't have met Yojoti. And cyclically, I wouldn't have known they were edible unless I had first met Yojoti. Things work out, I guess?

Yojoti held his prize up and I learned the word for the root, which I equated with "potato" in my mind. He then pointed at three other specimens, then me, and reached downward with his hand, curled his fingers in the air, then turned it over and lifted it up, speaking another new word. Ah, that must be "harvest" or something like that. I'll add it to the list.

I nodded, repeated the word, and set to work pulling up the other three potato plants. Meanwhile, Yojoti had begun using his spade to dig up and clear out grass in front of the shed. When he saw that I was done digging up the tubers, he pointed at my shovel and swept his hand from the direction of the shed over to the mound of earth now covering the gnoll's body.

Uh, does he mean he wants to clear all of this? Why? Well, not like I can ask for clarification, I'd better just get to it.

Bringing my bruised and blistered hands back to the handle of the shovel, I used the flat edge of the shovel to scrape in a straight line from the corner of the shed out to a point level with the grave, then across to directly in front of the opposite corner, and back in toward the shed.

There, now I have a clear perimeter to work with. Makes me feel better.

I continued grunting, digging, and scraping, along with Yojoti, until we had approximately a ten by ten square cleared in front of the shed. With this round of labor finally finished, Yojoti retrieved some tinder and flint from his pack, as well as a handful of the excised grass. Ah, he wanted space to make a fire. But why so damn much? If it's just for a small cook fire, a circle a yard across should have been fine, right?

Yojoti fiddled with the fire starting equipment for a minute, and soon had a flame sufficient to begin dropping bits of grass onto. Wait a minute, we don't have any wood. How are we supposed to have a proper fire?

No sooner had I wondered, than the grass caught and flared up to where Yojoti's face had been a few seconds prior. And so it continued as Yojoti added another small handful of grass. Once it was clear the fire was self-sustaining, he detached from his pack a folding grill rack and small pot, about a quart size.

"Trevor, water?" He called out, so I grabbed the jug I had left next to the then-empty grave, which still had about half of its contents, and handed it to him.

He smiled and voiced his thanks, taking the plastic jug. Wait, I don't know how to say "thank you" yet, was that it?

I caught Yojoti's eye and repeated what he had just said, in a questioning tone. He pondered for a second and then set the water jug down near me. He then repeated his request for the water, which I handed to him again, and repeated the word. Aha! So it WAS "thank you"!

I nodded vigorously and blurted "Yojoti! Bread, jerky, sleep, fire, walk, bury, thank you! Thank you thank you!"

My companion seemed a little taken aback at my effusive thanks, but smiled and responded with what I had to assume was an equivalent to "You're welcome" while pouring the water into the pot. I repeated it to him and and he nodded, gesturing to one side and saying "thank you," then moving his hand to his other side and finishing with "you're welcome". I nodded my understanding and punctuated it with a "Yes! Thank you!"

While the water heated up, we lightly rinsed the potatoes and cut off any stringy roots, seated on upturned buckets, with a third one positioned in the middle to hold the cleaned potatoes. Yojoti demonstrated cutting a potato into quarters, so I emulated his example.

Wait! More vocab opportunities!

I cut the potato in halves showed them to him, and said "half". He responded with his language's word for the same. I then cut both halves again, and showed them to him, to which he responded with "quarter", probably. I dropped the pieces into the bucket, cut a different potato in half, and then pantomimed putting the two halves back together. After a second, Yojoti got my meaning with an "Ah!" and then the word for "whole.

Man this is kind of exhausting. I need to think of some kind of system to streamline requesting new words...ugh, not on an empty stomach, though. Is the water boiling yet?

The last of the potatoes quartered, Yojoti dropped about two potatoes worth into the pot, as well as a handful of jerky that he had cut up, finishing with a sprinkling of herbs from a tin. With the stew prepped, we waited for the water to come to a boil in amiable silence. I spaced out while gazing into the fire at the grass being consumed and--Wait a minute, it's hardly being consumed at all! What the heck is going on here? Ugh, I don't have the words to try to ask this, but I'm so curious. I'll at least try.

"Yojoti, grass fire fire fire fire?" I repeated the word to try to indicate that the fire was burning for a long time. He stared at me as if I were an idiot.

I tried again, "Um, grass fire, night morning?" Thinking that bringing in time-related words might help.

Yojoti put on his "thinking face," propping his hand on his chin, trying to figure out what the hell I meant. I don't blame you, my guy. Even to myself, I sound like a moron.

Yojoti thought and thought, until I figured his puzzler must be sore. Finally his expression changed to more of a "hmm" than "what the hell?" then looked up at me.

He pointed at the fire while speaking the same, then placed his hands close together, drawing them apart to the full length of his arms, and said another word.

That's gotta be "long," right? Long fire?

"Grass fire long?" I tried, and he clapped his hands together and pointed at me. He tore off one of the stalks of grass from the pile next to him, then held the damaged end up and squeezed his fingers along the length until a liquid came out, beading at the end.

Pointing at the liquid, Yojoti said "Watch,” and brought the drop into the flames. Bringing it back out, it was burning brighter than a candle.

It just keeps burning! Sheesh, that’s some serious energy storage. No wonder Yojoti doesn’t carry wood for a fire in this tree-less area–he doesn’t need it! And the reason the grass itself isn’t burning is because this sap or oil is seeping out and burning first. Is this some kind of magic? Or just an evolved trait of this grass, to produce this kind of oil? Add this to the list of things to investigate once I can talk properly.

Yojoti dropped the stalk into the fire after seeing the understanding in my eyes, and turned back to the pot, which was now at a gentle boil. Plucking my own stalk, I squeezed out the liquid and gave it a sniff. It didn’t smell like much. I wonder if it’s safe to taste? It’s organic, obviously, but there are lots of poisonous plants out there.

“Yojoti,” I called. Once I had his attention, I pointed to the drop while asking “Eat?”

Yojoti shrugged and used a word I wasn’t familiar with. He corrected himself with “Yes,” and I filed the other word away as “sure” or “be my guest”.

Touching the drop to my tongue, nothing too bad happened. I spread it around a little inside my mouth and experienced a very light tang, almost fruity. Okay, so basically just vegetable oil? I wonder if this is maybe used for lamp fuel anywhere? It seems to burn pretty cleanly. If it isn’t, it should be. I can’t imagine it would be very difficult to press a bunch of this grass at once and collect the oil. It doesn’t even seem to need to be refined, maybe just filtered and homogenized. Another thought for once we reach civilization, I suppose.

While I mused, apparently the first batch of potatoes had finished cooking. Yojoti unhooked a shallow tin bowl from his pack, forked the boiled potatoes into it, and handed it to me before dropping the remaining potato chunks into the pot.

I blew on the serving for a few moments, then picked a cube up and munched down. It tasted…just like a potato.

I guess I can’t expect plants to taste too different here. Physics and organics seem to work pretty much the same as in my world, with the possible exception of that grass oil.

“Yojoti, potatoes mmmmm. Thank you,” I complimented the cook while rubbing my belly.

“You’re welcome,” he replied with a smile.

I finished eating my portion while the rest of the stew cooked, softening both the potatoes and the meat; I didn’t want to monopolize the one piece of eating hardware we had between us.

Wait a minute…wasn’t my old Boy Scout mess kit somewhere in the shed? I’ll look for it after Yojoti is done eating. I’d like to try to take stock of everything in the shed, together. There’s probably stuff that would be useful for survival that I passed over in my hurry to reach the fire.

I zoned out as Yojoti started his meal, my eyes following the outline of the new clearing in front of the shed. I still don’t understand why on Earth–well, I guess why on whatever this planet’s name is–we had to go to the effort of clearing so much space for a tiny fire in the middle.

Almost in answer to my question, the most unlikely sequence of events occurred. Some grass in the fire finally ran out of oil and shifted as it burned away, tossing an ember into the small pile of unburnt grass Yojoti had sitting nearby for fuel.

*FWOOSH*

Yojoti jumped at the sudden firestorm as the ember ignited the fuel pile, and fell off of his bucket seat. Thankfully, he had managed to keep his bowl upright, so his meal was saved.

Holy crap! If that ember had landed in the dense grass around here…we would be literal toast. Alright, note to self: Keep a WIDE buffer between any fire and this grass. Geez.

Laughing at his predicament, Yojoti managed to right himself and make it to his feet. He slurped down the last few bits of stew from the bowl, then handed the spoon and pot to me. I finished the other helping of stew, then shoveled some dirt over the fire to make sure it was all the way out, lest we have any further accidents.

Leaving the cookware out to cool, Yojoti reattached his bowl to his pack, then looked meaningfully between the shed and myself. I nodded and led the way to the door.