The damn raptorcat refuses to appear and when I stomp outside angrily, he’s nowhere to be seen. Bastet, the traitor, just gives me an amused look. Well, a look and a wave of amusement through our Bond.

“Aren’t you supposed to make sure the cubs don’t cause trouble?” I snap at her waspishly. The sensations and images she sends me don’t express an iota of contrition. Instead, the pictures of mountain rocks and trees and great winds seem to explain that one cannot control Nature: male raptorcats are inquisitive trouble-makers and there’s a reason they usually leave the pack before they even reach adulthood. Voluntarily or involuntarily, that is.

I sigh and rub my temples. I’m tired and out of patience, frankly, and the thought of replying with all the ways humans have come up with to control Nature does occur to me, but I refrain. Not only would they be so out of Bastet’s reference that she probably wouldn’t understand them, making the effort pointless, but would I actually want to repeat humanity’s mistakes here?

Probably not. My life here contrasts with my old life in many ways, and despite the danger that faces me all the time, I can’t help but feel I’m better off than I was when running the rat race. Clean air, clean living, and less focus on owning things...Though, on the downside that does mean I have to deal with crocodiles. And spider-monster things – I shudder at the memory.

So, no, I’m not going to try to control Nature to the extent that humanity did, which means that raptorcats will be raptorcats, and that I’m going to just have to go and deal with the mess in my bedroom. Next time, maybe I’d better consider the fact that cooking meat might be an attractive target to mischievous cubs and avoid leaving it unattended.

Returning to my bedroom, I survey the mess with dismay. The only good things, I decide, is that neither the pot nor my fireplace were damaged. Trouble must have smelt the boiling meat, followed it to its source, and then somehow pulled the pot over so it spilt everywhere.

I suppose I should be glad that he didn’t scald himself, or not seriously, at least. As for the contents of the pot, they spilled all over the fire, and escaped around the edges of the stone I had in place to block too much air from being pulled in at the fire’s base.

Essentially, I have a water and grease-soaked fire, well, dead embers, and a patina of greasy, ashy water spread around the fireplace. I suppose I should also be glad that not enough water was spilt to send it all the way to soak my bedding, though the cubs’ torn shirt is rather damp. They’ll just have to do without it until I can do a wash, I think grumpily. If they complain, I’ll get Bastet to tell them it’s Trouble’s fault. They should be fine anyway – they generally cuddle up with Bastet and they have a fire burning all night – all things they didn’t have back in the cave they were in when I found them.

Using the already ruined shirt as a rag, I mop up the mess on the floor. There’s little I can do about the grease before I have my soap, but the surface is rough enough that no-one should be at risk of slipping. The charcoal and unburnt twigs which had been in the fireplace when it was flooded are a lost cause and I just pull them into a pile which I’ll dump outside.

As for the pot, Trouble didn’t manage to tip it over completely, so there’s still some water and most of the meat there. Unfortunately, the main reason for me boiling the meat like this – apart from to have some cooked meat to add to my Inventory – was the grease, and that’s been mostly sloshed on the fire and the floor. Trying to breathe through my frustration, I salvage what I can, setting the meat aside onto a plate for eating afterwards – I’m actually hungry now.

Adding more water to the pot which had been tipped over, I repeat my previous actions, soon leaving the pot to boil on its own. After having a quick snack of the boiled meat – pretty tasteless, really – I go outside. Glaring at Trouble who’s now playing innocently with a stick, I decide to get on with preparing my filtering process, as I had been intending on doing before discovering what the trouble-making cub had been up to.

First grabbing a few pre-chosen stones, I set the small pot down in the middle of them and then rest the filtering container on top. It’s a bit rickety – unfortunately natural stones don’t tend to be uniform in either size or shape – but with five stones in place, it’s reasonably secure. I’m glad to see that I’ve got the height right as the stump isn’t actually sitting on top of the pot but is being held just above. It does take me a few tries to get the pot into the right place, though.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Finally, when it’s all set up correctly, with the opening of the stump just above the clay pot, I pile some ashes from my fire pit on top of the large pebbles filling the top of my filtering container. Grabbing my canteen, I start slowly pouring water on top of the ashes. After repeating the action for a couple of times, I lift the filtering container out of the way to check out my pot. Seeing that it’s half-full, I replace the container and continue pouring water, refilling my canteen from the big pot in my alcove when necessary.

After filling the small pot, I tidy away my filtering container and its rocks, tucking them next to my firewood pile. I’m pleased – the filtering has worked just as I’d hoped it would, and I’ve successfully completed the next step done in my soap-making process. Now I just need to boil off some of the water to make lye, then mix with pure animal fat, and then I’ll have some usable soap.

Checking on my pot, I see that it’s boiling nicely. Taking the pot off the fire by using a pair of jeans wrapped around my hands as make-shift gloves, I set it to one side: it’ll need to cool before I can do anything with it. So, what next?

My axe is done – the thought of which still sends a wave of pride through me – and my soap-making is on the way. I should probably beef up my mace a bit by adding a stone head, and it might be a good idea for me to consider making a spear at some point for keeping things at range, but something else draws me more: my bow.

Although I’ve never actually shot a bow – outside my absorbed memories – I know that it will offer a great deal to my hunting. Instead of me having to be a melee fighter simply because all my weapons are close-range, or trying to throw stones with reasonable accuracy, a bow means I could snipe my prey without them even seeing me. That seems a lot better for my long-term survival prospects than having to run in, mace or spear swinging.

Even my fight earlier with the crocodile...I’m not sure if I would have killed it with a bow, since its skin was so strong, but if I’d had poisoned arrows and the accuracy to hit it in the eyes? Or through the roof of its mouth and into its brain? I might have been able to take it down with practically no risk to myself, rather than the knife’s edge I was on throughout that fight. Not to mention the broken arm. Yes, I know I can heal myself, but it still hurts to be injured in the first place and I’m not a masochist in any way, shape, or form. I could even combine using a bow with Bastet’s melee fighting: Bastet keeps the creature distracted and in a certain place, and I snipe at it in its vulnerable spots. If my aim’s good enough, of course.

So...my bow. And arrows, of course, since a bow without arrows is only useful as a staff, which doesn’t exactly fulfill the same function. Naturally, making both of these is not going to be as simple as going down the street to the local sports shop. I have five elements to prepare: the bow shaft, the string, the arrow-heads, the arrow-shafts, and the tools to connect the latter two together.

I haven’t yet harvested a branch large or strong enough to function as the bow itself, so maybe I should make that tomorrow’s first task – I don’t really have the daylight left today, nor the inclination to risk another life-death encounter. The bowstring will require processed sinew, which I’m on the way to having. I think I should have enough, especially once the ostridocus’ leg sinews dry sufficiently – they’re the longest that I’ve found so far.

As for the arrows, I’d collected a number of branches while I was collecting firewood a few days back. I currently have them hanging up on my drying rack with the few bits of sinew which are still damp. Hopefully they’ll do alright for arrow-shafts, though I know they won’t be fully seasoned. They were pretty dry to begin with, so I’m hoping they’ll be OK.

I still need to cut some feathers to make the vanes of the arrows, and although I’ve got a handful of arrow-heads made, I still need plenty more. After all, the chances of my arrows breaking or the arrow-heads fracturing when they hit something is high, so I need plenty of back-up supplies.

I’ve now got my pitch to help the three elements of the arrows stick together, and I’ll be using sinew for that too. Hmm...I’ll also need a file to make the notches for both the arrow-heads and for nocking the arrows onto the string when firing. I make a mental note to look through my rock collection to see if there’s anything suitable. If not, I’ll have to make one from flint. Fortunately, I’ve got lots of flint nodules since I took the opportunity to resupply at one point when I was passing near the spot I found the flint in the first time.

Out of the tasks I have that I can do now, I decide to get on with processing the dry sinew strands, especially since more have finished drying since I last did the processing. I’m going to need sinew for both bow and arrows, so it seems logical. Not to mention for my chitin, and possibly crocodile-skin armour. Afterwards, I guess I’d better get on with making arrow-heads. Though…

A thought occurs and I rummage through my orange suitcase for my day counting stick. Adding a couple of notches for the last days which I hadn’t recorded, I calculate time. It’s been two days since Kalanthia went hunting, so she’ll want to go hunting again the day after tomorrow. Maybe I’d better increase the damage of my mace now since that’s not likely to take too long, then go looking for a piece of wood suitable for a bow first thing tomorrow. That way I’ll have all the resources necessary and just need to process them, something I can do while Kalanthia’s away.

I have to admit that despite Trouble’s, well, trouble-making, having other cubs around to play with has made Lathani significantly less demanding towards all the adults. Bastet’s extra pair of eyes helps too. The combination should mean that I get much more done tomorrow than I’d succeeded to do in the first few times I looked after the nunda cub.

Alright, time to make the mace more badass.