When I awoke in the morning, I lay in the hammock for a moment, just looking across at Keith. He was dead asleep, but I could see the bruising on his forehead, where he'd struck the tree yesterday. His torso was just a mass of bandages. His wounds looked like he'd been hit by a car, not an animal. Can I do this without him?

I immediately felt horrible for the thought. Logically, some of it was the situation and I got that. We were all each other had to depend on, and here he was, laid out and severely injured, unable to keep going like he had. Then, there was the literal interpretation of the thought. I was a strong, tough woman, but the wilderness didn't care about that. Given what I'd been shown thus far, could I actually survive if he was pulled from the competition? Most likely not. I'd camped before, but only ever in a commercial campground, and this was a whole different level. I need to get better, and sooner rather than later.

I got out of the hammock, and retrieved my clothing from the 'dresser', a smaller shell container that Keith had set up for me to keep rodents and insects out of it. Whether I cared to admit it or not, I felt for him. If it weren't for the sake of humanity, I wouldn't even question his actions yesterday. Sure, he'd risked his life, but whether soldier, medic, or EMT, they were all jobs based on protecting the lives of others in one way or another. Then there was his statement yesterday, as he stalked over to finish the 'Dire Cougar', as he put it: 'This universe doesn't get to take one more thing from me'... It didn't take a doctorate in psychology to realize why Keith put himself in the line of fire so easily.

Once dressed, I checked the bandages, and Keith didn't even stir, any more than to murmur about me smelling nice, which got a smile out of me, but otherwise, he was still out. He might as well be, it wasn't as if there was a ton for him to do. I flushed as I realized I was stroking his hair, then walked outside. Outside, I saw one of the reasons those feelings were starting to exist: Rognar and Greltha, asleep in their tent. The Rothani he had brought home with him. By nature, he wouldn't let people suffer, wouldn't give up on them, wouldn't abandon them. All he had to do to win was nothing, just keep living his life here, and wait for everyone else to drop from the competition one way or another... and he couldn't do it. Sigh... I feel like such a bitch for being agitated with that, but the only way I have to get back to Cassie is if we win, and by the rules, the only way that happens is if everyone else loses.

The camp looked quite different than before I had gone to bed. For one, a giant loom was erected down the bluff on the leeward side. When I got closer, I understood the reason for that: It absolutely reeked, and placing it there made sure the scent went away from the camp. The fur from the cat's hide was gone, and next to it, was some sort of solution I didn't want to know the contents of. There were other things to look at anyway.

Such as what was now a rather large smoking shack, and I could see smoke coming out slowly near the top. The meat from the cat was in there. I'm not even certain if cougar meat on Earth is properly edible, but according to my guide, it should be. Taste, however, was another point. That aside, Keith literally couldn't have done this work, and I certainly didn't, leaving just the Rothani to thank. Quite literally, hundreds of pounds of meat were being preserved, meaning no one would need to hunt for some time. I checked on the meat, opening the door of the smoke shack, but the meat didn't seem ready yet.

The Rothani had done a lot for us in the night, and it gave me hope that they were trying so hard to be of use. It'd been a gamble. They could just as easily have run off with our gear, food, whatever they wanted, or even eliminated us from the competition in our sleep. Instead, they'd helped get the camp further along. Certainly, they had helped themselves to some food, but honestly, we were rather full up on meat, so I wasn't precisely offended at the thought.

Then where our containers appeared, there was a pile of bags and small containers. A few I recognized: The EMT bag had appeared after the fight with the Dire Cougar, so some sort of achievement Keith had gotten there. The first we had gotten yesterday, was, thank God, a rig up for a camp shower, along with a giant bar of natural soap -goat's milk, oatmeal, and honey- for The Camp achievement. I'd set that up yesterday, just after Keith left to head down by the river, and yes, I rather luxuriated in being able to take a hot shower, even if I had to heat up the water in the black bladder of the thing. The soap I had to cut into more useable blocks, but I'm hardly complaining about that.

That left one container for an achievement I didn't know, gotten while Keith was away. Inside had been a long rectangular nylon case, and when I opened it, saw before me a full set of chef's knives, along with a whetstone. It probably wasn't the greatest of survival equipment, but I knew how to use these. I had planned on using them to cook up a nice dinner, but things had gotten away from us last night, admittedly.

Now, there were all these little boon bats, most of which were things I had to assume were sent as peace offerings by the other species Keith had called out to last night. Two, however, were from Earth, a pair of insulated bags, and I laughed hysterically when I saw what was inside them: A warm pizza in a box marked Sizzle Pie, a six-pack of Amber Drop-Top, and some ice cream sandwiches from Ruby Jewel, still currently frozen. Portland had answered our first-day musings. The bags themselves were maintained on some sort of battery power obviously, but I didn't know how long that power supply would even last. I didn't know enough to understand a way to use them longer-term.

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

I could have just woken Keith up, sure, but, why not, let's have to fun with it. I went into the tent with the box of pizza, and wafted the box over him. At first, nothing happened, and then I heard the sniff. Keith came awake surpsinginly alert, and I laughed, "Seriously? That worked?"

Keith sat up a bit in the hammock, "Oh God, I know that smell... wait, is one of those mine?" Pointing at the ice cream sandwiches.

I remembered the sandwiches. Ruby Jewel was from home, they made cookie ice cream sandwiches, and they were really good, "Oh, yeah. I've got Lavender Lemon, the S'mores one is mine, and there's a classic, and finally, Oatmeal Butterscotch."

"Ooh, Lavender Lemon."

"Really. I thought you military guys were big macho men?" I chuckled, handing him the sandwich.

Keither tore open the packaging immediately, "Hon, I hunted down a 14-foot alien cougar, and personally shoved my own shoulder back into socket and killed it with a knife, before walkin' my ass back to camp and threatin' an alien empire. I could draw a hot bubble bath, while readin' me some Nora Roberts and blastin' Taylor Swift, and I'd still have more man points than any y'all on Earth."

He's not... wrong. I would've like to keep going with the banter, but honestly, I was too hungry. First things first, however: We had two spare ice cream sandwiches and a couple of guests. I went over to the Rothani, and as gently as I could, I woke up Greltha, offering her the sandwiches I wasn't going to eat. After opening the pouch they came in, she sniffed, and her ears perked up, "Thank you, Lady Val."

"It's just Val,"- okay, Lady Valerie did sound kind of good...

In any event, Greltha woke up Rognar, and gave him the Classic sandwich, while I went to enjoy my own treat. The pizza was similarly easy to divvy up, two slices apiece. Keith looked so happy with his. For me, it was an excellent chance not to have to prep food for the morning, so that meant I could focus on bigger items. First up: the mushroom log needed to be harvested.

Keith had gone over the basics, but we needed to get to work on making farmed mushrooms a reality. I called him out to sit, and he did so using a long thick branch the Rothani had brought, then took me through the basics, "Alright now, guess we're startin' us up this stuff again. Well, if'n you look over here, you'll see where it's growin', right? What you wanna do is to take off the stem and flower o' the mushroom, without hurtin' the roots o' the thing, called mycelium. You'll do better with a small knife, and if you can grab Pop's hand drill, that'll speed ya right along."

He was very patient with the process, explaining how his grandma had taught him to do it, and even showed me a trick for using sawdust in a mason jar as a growth medium. We could essentially propagate the mycelium in the jars, then transplate to the log, since a 'perfect' atmosphere could be more easily maintained in the jars, but the logs allowed for better long-term growth. As our stock of mushrooms increased, we'd be doing both. Once I'd setup some of the drill holes, and gotten our first crop of mushrooms planted, he directed me through how to cut up the yams for planting so we could get that underway, "We'll be usin' the smaller ones for our seed stock, and the big ones're food."

Keith explained all of it, and he covered mistakes by going over his own errors, even once he knew what he was doing. Next, he went with me to check nets, while he sat there, braced so he could turn a branch into a proper fishing pole, whittling away as best he could with one hand, only using the other to steady it. We got a couple more fish, one from the net, and another from him actually casting with the pole, using worm bait. He took me through cleaning and gutting the catch, since he couldn't, and showed me how to tie them up to a line, so I could carry them more easily.

Finally, He picked up the bow, and after going over it a minute, handed it to me, and had me setup on a short fat log on one of the rocks to use as a target. At first, he didn't even have me nocking an arrow, instead focusing on drawing the bowstring. Again, he was very patient here, correcting my stance by moving my position until it was all correct. He explained to never dry-fire the bow, but to slowly bring the bowstring back to rest, so I didn't chance damaging the string or hitting my forearm with it. Then, I kept drawing the bow into stance for a while. My arms and shoulders were starting to get sore. Despite what I'd seen in movies and TV, willowy people were not natural archers. The bow's draw took a lot of strength to get it back to the anchor point. I could adapt, but it wasn't a muscle group that I'd focused on.

We passed the morning this way, and if it weren't for the aliens and whatnot, it just seemed like we were on a camping trip together. Finally, I could see Keith was tiring out, so against his objections, I got him back to bed, and kept trying to rattle off a list of stuff as he fell back asleep. It was... mostly gibberish by the end. No matter how strong his mind might be, his body was at its limit. Just the act of walking and breathing were more strenuous for him.

The Rothani and Keith were asleep and we were pretty stocked up on meat, so I decided to head out for some foraging. Keith had mumbled something about vines, so I figured he had plans for them. Grabbing the container shell with the harness, as well my hatchet and knife, I headed out. Maybe I could have taken the bow with me, but realistically, I'm not a good enough shot yet, and we only have three arrows left, so I didn't want to risk them. Time to take a walk in the woods.