Sirocco sends an impatient assent, clearly making it obvious that she’s already answered that question. Then she wonders whether I’m going to kill them or not.
I shrug and pull out my spear, holding it above the closest pylobus. Then, before I stab it, I suddenly wonder whether using Inspect on different members of the same species makes any difference. Mentally shrugging this time, I decide that it’s worth a try. Casting Inspect Fauna, I discover that the biggest of the pylobus is actually Evolved. I wonder if it has a Core, I think to myself with interest.
Then, focussing on moving and holding the spear correctly, I kill the helpless pylobuses. The one which was identified as being evolved already had double the health points than the others, so required four strikes where the others only needed two. Stabbing them in the mouth must have meant I was hitting some vulnerable bit considering that, even with my strength, I’m still only using a sharpened stick here.
Looking over at the others, I see them already tucking into their own kills. River appears to have used his spear too as it’s lying next to him. I don’t know how Sirocco and Fenrir killed theirs, but when Fenrir senses my curiosity, he sends a quick image of him flipping them and Sirocco pecking them to death with her toothed beak. Fair enough.
In total, we killed eight pylobuses. That it hasn’t even made a noticeable impact on my Energy store is not a surprise: these probably would have only given me a couple of percent each when I was at level 1. By this point, I’d probably have had to kill the whole…herd? Pack? Swarm? Anyway, I’d have had to kill a lot of them to gain any sort of progress towards my next level.
Still, I’m not actually too worried about levelling. I still have one point in Dexterity to gain before I want to activate my next level-up, and preferably I’ll have found a way of fixing my soul damage too. And although I’m not gaining much Energy now, if my plans work, then I’ll be gaining a lot more in the relatively near future. With any luck, I’ll gain my last point in Dexterity from my tanning endeavours. Or from training with either the bow or my spear: I reckon that either of those are good possibilities.
Don’t you want to eat some, master? River asks, his head cocked to one side. Sirocco is not wrong: the meat is surprisingly tasty and very tender, he adds. I suddenly realise that I’ve been standing here like a lemon for too long, just staring into space. I eye the dead beetles, a squirmy, sick feeling in my stomach.
Remember tortoises, I say to myself. Considered by Darwin to be extremely tasty, and they’re creatures in shells like these ones. But somehow the limp, ichorous tendrils coming out of the creatures’ ‘mouths’ are just so off-putting. Not to mention those legs.
“No, it’s OK,” I say finally. “I’ve been collecting plants to eat; it’s only fair that you guys have something tasty too.”
Very well, River responds, though he gives off the distinct impression that he thinks I’m a little mad.
“If you find a Core, can you give it to me, please?” I say, turning away from where he’s starting to dive into one of the ones I killed. While they dine, I use Inspect Environment on the area around.
Interestingly enough, the Skill points me to a number of still, circular objects half-buried in the ground underneath the bushes. I only see them because they’re ringed in red, but upon having my attention drawn to them, I realise what the pylobuses have done: they disappeared under the bush to break my line of sight, and then settled themselves into the forest loam. They might even have some sort of Stealth Skill or ability to go unnoticed as long as they don’t draw attention to themselves since no one spotted them before.
I don’t draw my Bound’s attention to their hiding places, though – I figure the pylobuses have earned a break. It’s not their fault that I have a Skill which can spot their hiding places. And they’re fulfilling an important function in the forest: waste disposal is always necessary.
Besides, I hardly feel it would be fair – a bit like attacking the baby porcupigs all the way back in the beginning. Though, to be honest, with what I know now about them, I reckon I might have come off worse in that fight. Or it would have certainly been more difficult than I was expecting, anyway.
I do resolve to take the carapaces of the dead ones with me, though: I reckon that they’ll make pretty good bowls or plates.
*****
By the time my Bound have finished munching on the meat of the dead pylobuses and I’ve packed all the carapaces into my Inventory, the afternoon sun is more than halfway on its journey towards the horizon.
“Are you guys full, or are you still hungry?” I ask my Bound. Sirocco sends back a satisfied feeling – apparently the three pylobuses she ate were sufficient for her.
I could eat, River replies carefully – which for him means he is hungry but doesn’t want to say. Fenrir equally gives off a sense of hunger. OK, so these are clearly good enough for a snack, but not much more. I guess they’re a bit like crabs – a lot of work to get through the shell and then not much meat once you manage it.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Well, with the light quality, I reckon that we still have enough time before dark to do some proper hunting for meat
“Can any of you detect anything good to eat? Bigger than these, too,” I ask all and sundry, knowing that they all have different ways of finding prey. I get a series of thoughtful but negative responses. Then the last – Fenrir – seems to indicate an uncertain positive. “What is it, Fenrir?” I ask him specifically.
The lizog offers me a sense of a group of big, two-legged creatures somewhere to the right of us. If my interpretation of his message is correct, he’s not sure where they are or how far away they are: although he caught a faint hint of scent, it wasn’t strong enough to give him much information.
Well, that’s more than we have to go off otherwise. I decide that we might as well investigate. Directing Fenrir to lead us to the creatures, I wonder what it is that he’s taking us to – something I’ve already encountered or something new?
While we travel, I continue using my Inspection Skills on a regular basis, Inspect Environment and Inspect Flora more often than Inspect Fauna, but even the last gets a bit of a workout whenever I see a creature scurrying away from our party. The forest is alive, but I feel pretty safe walking through it – with the four of us together, we kind of out-level the area.
While there are still creatures who could pose a risk to us around, most are not likely to choose to start something. Since they don’t look particularly appetising or likely to offer much Energy, we don’t attack them either.
I frown as we head back into an area which seems very familiar: weren’t we there ten minutes ago or so? I pull up my Map, but since I hadn’t looked at it before, I can’t tell whether we are going in circles. I do, however, notice that we’re heading back down towards the valley, though the general downward trend of our route could have told me that anyway.
Over the next few minutes, I check my Map several times. We’re moving at a medium pace – something like a quick jog or a slow run. It means we cover ground reasonably fast without chewing into our stamina too much. It also means that I can tell how Fenrir is leading us on a bit of a meandering path, though always in a certain direction. Is it that he’s trying to triangulate the scent? I wonder. I’d love to hop back into his head to work out whether my guess is correct, but that would mean I’d have to stop moving so I could concentrate. I suppose I’ll have to live with my curiosity for now.
As it is, I notice that the meandering on our route seems to reduce more and more as we move further down the valley. Soon, we’re not meandering at all but running almost directly towards something.
The creatures, whatever they are, are further away than I was expecting; I’m rather in awe of how sensitive a lizog’s nose is. Bastet was right when she gave me the sense of the lizogs being able to follow us all those weeks ago when I first Dominiated her.
Finally, though, Fenrir slows and sends warning that we’re close. By this point River seems to have identified something too if his intent focus is anything to go by.
“Sirocco, can you go scout for us?” I ask the bird. She sends an indifferent assent, winging her way through the trees towards whatever the rest of my Bound can detect. Personally, my senses are still too dull: I can’t see anything, though if I concentrate there is a quiet sound of rustling and cracking up ahead.
The bird doesn’t take long to do her scouting and return. Upon landing on my shoulder, the impact surprising considering her slight weight, she sends me an image of what she saw. I immediately recognise the creatures: the two-legged, odd mixture between an ostrich and diplodocus which I’ve creatively named ostridocus. I’m able to count this herd to number between twenty and thirty individuals.
We won’t need to kill even half that amount: they’re big enough that a single corpse should feed at least two of my Bound for a couple of days. If we each kill one, we’ll have enough meat to last us for a few days. If we kill more than that, I’ll probably have to put the meat in my Inventory: even if that will strip the Energy away, it still provides important nutrition which makes it better than starving.
This is also a good opportunity for us all to practise our fighting in a relatively safe scenario. No, not completely safe: the ostridocuses are not completely defenceless. However, considering that Bastet and I took them on and killed a good few with only us two and without suffering significant injury, we should be able to do better than that with the four of us.
Plus, we can actually try to work together: the fight with – or rather, slaughter of – the pylobuses didn’t have any strategy to it; didn’t need any strategy.
“Alright,” I say quietly to my Bound. “Here’s what we should do.” With that, I outline my thoughts. “Any comments?” I ask after my explanation.
If I may summarise, River asks, then continues when I nod at him. Fenrir will be the visible threat, driving the bulk of the herd towards our trap. You and I will be the true damage-dealers, the jaws of the trap which close on the herd. Am I correct?
“Yes,” I affirm, “and Sirocco will be keeping an eye on things from above. There’s no need to kill every member of the herd; we only need to grab two or three each to easily satisfy our requirements. Any other questions?” I receive a series of negative responses. “Alright let’s do this.”
Moving off, we quickly get into positions. At first, the plan goes exactly as intended: the appearance of a lizog serves to spook the herd. I’d imagine that, since lizogs run in packs, they imagined that the first lizog was only the herald of more to come. If they were thinking at all, of course.
The members of the herd quickly move away from Fenrir who, as intended, drives them straight into our trap. The panicked ostridocuses – or bisonisans, if my Inspect Fauna is anything to judge by – are easy targets and I manage to get in a lethal spear strike on two of the stampeding creatures with no issue. In fact, there’s more indirect risk of being knocked over and trampled than direct risk of being attacked.
That, of course, is the moment when a feeling of alarm from Sirocco comes across the Bond. If I could put the feeling into words, I would only need one: ‘incoming’!