Since there was still another hour or so before sunset, no one was ready to call it day. While Violet stepped into the wagon to grab the cookpot and tonight’s ingredients, Trapper went to place some kill traps in front of the cavern’s entrance to supplement her earlier efforts.
He hadn’t had a chance to witness the process before, so Edge followed the crew’s leader and watched her work her magic. First, Trapper studied the lay of the land, examining the composition of the soil and the angle of approach. When she was finished, she walked over to a spot that was sheltered from the rain, ignited her core, and cast manifest trap.
Mana went flowing out of her hands and into the ground below. Not long after, the earth began to sink, forming a deep pit. But that was only half the show. From the bottom of the depression, long spikes of a crystalline substance arose—wicked barbs big enough to make even a padamas think twice about pressing its advance. More of the mineral formed a thin shell along the interior, keeping water from leeching in from the sides.
When the pit trap was complete, she burned more mana and a latticework of sticks and leaves shimmered into existence over the top—tight enough to stop the rain from flowing in and ruining her construction. Then she sprinkled a layer of dirt over lattice, which quickly turned to mud and hid the device.
Edge let out an appreciative whistle. They don’t call her Trapper for nothing.
She laughed at his antics, then said, “I know it looks impressive, and manifest trap is a great, versatile skill. The downside is that it requires a lot of set up, eats a ton of mana, and everything will fall apart in twelve hours or so. One of the limitations of creating materials with pure mana instead of infusing something with it. Still, it should be enough to keep us safe until morning.”
When he walked back inside, everyone was sitting in a ring around the fire, chatting about their day, their prey, and their pay. Along with what they expected to find when they crossed further into the biome.
Edge decided that it was the right time to break out the bag of candy that Rita had given him and share it with the team. The spiced confections were a big hit. Everyone seemed to enjoy them, even Riller, who didn’t care for sweets.
When Blue saw that everyone was getting a treat except her, she let out a pleading whine. The dino stared up at Edge with those big brown eyes, making herself as cute as possible. Which he had to admit, was pretty fucking adorable. After checking in with Violet and Trapper to make sure it was alright, he walked over and fed Blue a pile of homemade candies.
She licked them off his hand and began to chew with enthusiasm, then reached up to nuzzle his face before settling back down with a sleepy yawn. While Violet began making her customary stew, the hunters passed the time by telling stories, each taking a turn going around the fire.
Riller and Jumo went first. Like many of their interactions, they turned the telling into a contest, playing a game they called, “Remember that time?” Most of their tales were humorous accounts of hunts gone spectacularly wrong.
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The crew laughed as the men warmed up to the sport, although it was clear that the other hunters had heard the stories several times already. Before long, everyone was chuckling along with the teller’s words, helping to dispel the pervasive tension of being in the field while stalking a deadly beast.
Edge’s favorite story was the time when Riller and Jumo had been hunting warblers on the western border of the Ivory Plains. A bird that was known for having delicious eggs and valuable feathers. Part of the way into their hunt, a pack of mist wolves had shown up to contest the prize—far too many beasts to defeat in a brawl.
Faced with an enemy that was faster and stronger than themselves, the men had sprinted for the nearest tree and climbed high into the branches. Although the wolves couldn’t climb, they waited at the base for days. At that point, Jumo took over, and finished the rest of the tale.
“We were growing so hungry that Riller started teaching himself how to imitate the calls of the local birds, including the ones we were there to catch in the first place. There we were, wolves ringing the trunk like they had front row seats to a concert, and Riller was up in the branches, chirping and whopping for all he was worth for hours on end. It took two days before the beasts finally gave up and left the area.
“But the best part was, it actually worked. By the second day, Riller could imitate the warblers’ call flawlessly. He got a dozen of them to come investigate—standing perfectly still and then snatching them out of the air when they drew near. We wound up feasting the moment that the wolves were gone and walked back to town with a decent haul, despite the circumstances. Ahh. Good times.”
Trapper went next, sharing a story that had taken place during her early days on Ord. Everyone listened closely when the crew’s leader began to speak, since only Violet had heard the tale before.
She wove a gripping narrative about going out on a solo hunt and running into a pair of jailbirds that had hunted her instead. She had survived by the skin of her teeth, using every trick she knew to evade the convicts’ pursuit. It was enough to delay the inevitable, but Trapper couldn’t get away. At that point, she knew that she had to go all in. She wagered her life by luring the prisoners into the territory of an aggressive predator—a giant badger that could spit boiling mud.
The crew leaned in, following her every word as the story reached its climax. The beast had made its appearance, and Trapper made her move—catching one of the jailbirds in an improvised trap she had made with natural materials. While the beast devoured the bound woman, the other prisoner and Trapper had run for their lives.
The struggle wound up clearing the condition that granted the crew’s leader her signature skill, which is how Trapper wound up learning manifest trap.
Violet had another funny one. Of a time before she had joined the crew and was traveling as part of a trader’s caravan. When they were making dinner, someone had accidentally picked the wrong herb, substituting part of their meal with a psychedelic drug. Everyone had spent the night giggling like idiots while lost in vivid visions. Fortunately, the effects wore off by morning and no one got hurt, or it would have been a much darker tale.
That just left Sasha and Edge. For his part, he shared the only story he had, going through his experiences on Ord to date. He went into more detail this time, only glossing over the part where he had killed the convicts and the stage-two shadowreaver. Implying that he had come across the aftermath of their battle instead of participating in it.
By now, everyone was getting sleepy, so Sasha shared a quick yarn about her first hunt gone wrong. She had been tracking a weasel, but before she could score the kill, a ripper had ambushed them both, and she barely got away with her life.
Edge went to work setting up his tent, glad for Violet’s training. He wasn’t tired enough to sleep just yet. Instead, he propped his head against his bedroll. He watched the falling rain while reflecting on how far he’d come in just a few short weeks. Eventually, the ceaseless roar of the storm carried him away.