Stepping tentatively towards the entrance, I check again with my companions that they don’t detect the presence of anything else in the cave. Getting negative answers from all of them, I peer into the dark hole with my spear at the ready.
As my eyes adapt a little to the light quality, I see that, indeed, the cave is empty apart from a covering of dead leaves on the cave floor. Bedding for the snilapede, I guess. Stepping more confidently into the cave, I drop into Fade to gain the benefits of a sharper eye-sight in the dim conditions.
Going to where I remember seeing a metallic glint, I’m pleased to immediately be able to identify a number of lines looking like the delta of a river running through the rock. They shine in the dim light coming in from the entrance; with my sharper eyesight, I’m even able to see the colour. If I had to guess, I’d say that they’re copper.
My heart sinks a little, I admit it. Copper is metal, sure, but it isn’t what I was hoping for. Mixed with tin, I could make bronze, but that requires me to find the other metal. What I was really hoping for was iron – it’s a lot harder than copper and I even know a method to make a rough sort of steel which would be great.
Still, any metal is better than no metal, and even pure copper should be an upgrade on my flint weaponry. So saying, I pull out a chunk of un-knapped flint from my Inventory. Although I’ve got my axe, that’s supposed to be for trees and needs a sharper edge than bashing some metal out of rock.
Gripping the large lump of flint with both hands, I raise it above my head and then bring it swinging down. The reverberation stings my fingers, but I reckon the sensation is not as bad as it would have been previously – my new pain management Skill may be kicking in, or perhaps my increased Constitution.
Unsurprisingly, my single bash with the rock has had little effect. That is to say, almost none. This is going to take a while…
*****
By the time I manage to knock out my first lump of copper ore, my hands have really started to hurt and I’ve already managed to earn a point in Strength (Power), proving just how much force I’ve been using. The fact that applying the stat only cost me two percent of my Energy store is also proof of exactly how much the requirements of Energy per percentage have increased along with my level.
There has to be a better way, I decide. If I can attach a handle to this lump of rock, I’ll be able to get more power out of each swing and reduce the impact carried through to my hands. Yes, it will take me a bit of time to create the implement, but it will probably save me more time than I use, both now and in the future.
Although the pitch I have with me is cold, having been left back at Kalanthia’s den while I was away, I do have plenty of bark-fibre cord. Hopefully that will be enough. If not, I’ll have to melt the pitch, but waiting for it to cool will take longer than I would like. I’ll try it with just the cord first.
Heading back to the clearing, I note that all my companions have been taking advantage of my absence to eat their fair share of the body. Dropping Fade, I see them take notice of me immediately.
Markus, we saved this for you, River says, standing and holding a dripping piece of flesh out to me. I frown in confusion, but as I get closer, it becomes clearer. I guess the snilapede was more lizard-like than millipede given what it looks like.
“The heart?” I clarify. River sends a sense of confirmation.
You asked me to save that of the salamander, he adds. I thought you might like this one too. I smile at his consideration.
“Thanks. I’ll set up a fire and roast it, then.” I might as well do that while sorting out my new implement. So thinking, I quickly set up a fire and get the heart roasting while searching around the area for an appropriate handle.
Finding a decent-sized fallen branch which is fairly fresh, I use my axe to cut it a little down to size. Pulling it over to the fire, I start attempting to fix the lump of flint to the rough handle. On second thoughts, I pull my container of pitch out of my Inventory and set it next to the fire to melt. Even if I don’t use it here and now, having melted pitch in my Inventory will be more useful than cold and set pitch.
By the time my heart is cooked enough for me to risk eating, I have made something that might do me well enough as a very primitive pick-axe. Setting it to one side, I take the heart and cut it into bite-sized chunks. Munching away, my gaze wanders around the area. Here and there I can see white-ish lumps. As I focus on them, I realise what they are: bones.
Bastet is clearly following my gaze as sadness comes from her. Without thinking, I move closer to her and start stroking her head as I would Lathani. After the first stroke, I freeze, realising that I’ve assumed she might like that kind of contact without actually asking. She seems to take a moment to consider carefully whether she liked it or not, and the next moment butts at my hand, just as Lathani would have. OK, then.
Stroking her head, I marvel at the softness of the proto-feathers covering it. Gently, I scratch at the skin underneath it, finding the flesh below her ear tufts and stroking that as well. Bastet shivers a little and then presses closer. She’s warm, and surprisingly light for such a large creature. Still, despite my attempts to comfort her obviously working a little, I still sense the deep grief within her.
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“Do you want to bury them?” I offer after a moment of thought. Yes, I know it isn’t exactly necessary – they’re already bones, after all. But the purpose of burying has never been only to protect bodies from predation: it’s also about letting go, offering closure. I know that all too well, even if the funeral was only the start of letting go for me.
Bastet’s response is fairly indifferent. Unsurprising. Burial is perhaps too much of a human thing to suit her. Hmm… There are traditions other than burial which have the same purpose. Many traditions highlight spending time celebrating the loved one’s life, retelling stories about their greatest successes and most dismal failures.
“What about telling me about them?” I suggest next. “Remember them as they once were, and say goodbye to them for a final time?” Bastet hesitates, but I get the sense that actually, she might like that, though isn’t sure. Smiling sadly in shared grief, I push myself to my feet and go over to the closest collection of bones. “Who was this?”
Bastet joins me on taloned feet that click very softly against the stony ground. Surprisingly, River also joins, his own feelings sombre. Seeing that the rest of us have moved, Fenrir joins us with a sense of curiosity – I doubt he knows really what’s going on; it’s just that he doesn’t want to miss out. Even Sirocco hops over, her own feelings matching Fenrir, though with a greater dignity. Once we are all gathered around the pile of overgrown bones, Bastet begins.
Unsurprisingly, she doesn’t use words. Instead, she sends me a series of still images which I then send to everyone else. A cub, gambolling and playing with a group of other cubs. A juvenile, fluff still stubbornly clinging on in a number of places. Her first kill, her plumed tail sticking up straight in the air and wings spread wide in joy. A severe injury, which she managed to recover from, though it left a permanent scar which remained bare of feathers even after it healed. And her death, the first to be cut down by Kalanthia when she came.
Bastet’s family was… River sends to me, his mental voice trailing off.
Killed by Kalanthia, yes, I confirm, sending the message to him privately.
And yet they seem so friendly with each other, he continues, his bafflement coming through loud and clear to me.
Bastet is very practical, and saw no reason to hold a grudge against Kalanthia as long as her, and her cubs' safety was not in question. And Kalanthia has never felt any threat from Bastet, I explain. It’s hard for me to understand too, I admit, though I am glad of it.
Difficult to understand, indeed, River agrees and then falls silent. I get the sense that lizard-folk may have more in common with humans than raptorcats when it comes to holding grudges. The fact that the shaman decided to come after Kalanthia’s cub can’t only be to do with her desiring a powerful protector, surely? I would have thought there would be plenty of easier and almost as good targets near them. Actually, how was Lathani’s spirit supposed to protect against a group of trees, anyway?
My thoughts are distracted by Bastet moving away to another pile of bones. One by one, she tells their stories. This one was the youngest in the pack; this one was the oldest apart from Bastet herself. This one was the last to die; this one was the first to attack. This one was missing an eye – she gave me a look at that point which made it very clear who she considered to blame for that; this one was missing an ear. When she identified the one to have most recently given birth, only a few steps away from the cave itself, I have to be glad that the cubs aren’t with us.
Not wanting to bring them back to the scene of their family’s massacre was just as much part of my reasoning to not bring them as was keeping them safe. I can’t help but think that it would be a difficult experience for them to see what remained of their mother. But maybe that’s just me projecting again. I quickly strangle the images which threaten to overwhelm me of the last time I saw my mother. This is time for Bastet, not for me, I remind myself firmly and concentrate back on my Bound.
When she finishes sending the final series of images as we stand around a pile of bones close to the trees, she reaffirms her attachment to us. In place of the images of past raptorcats, she sends us pictures of ourselves. It’s a bit weird for me to see myself through Bastet’s eyes: I look bigger, my features less defined, my hands larger and my muscles skinnier.
River is similarly bigger, with blunter teeth and shorter claws. Fenrir is pretty much the same as he is in real life, and Sirocco is more vague, only her claws and beak at all defined. The cubs, on the other hand, are very clearly defined, every feather almost lined with light, like they’ve been put through a filter to sharpen the details. Even Lathani is there, though she is, in contrast to the rest of us, smaller than she really is, and her coat fluffier, like Bastet isn’t yet seeing her as a juvenile, but still the small cub she was.
The raptorcat sends a sense of belonging and contentedness along with the images, making her meaning very clear: she misses her old pack, but she has found a new one. I immediately respond with my feeling of her being my family, and a dear friend. What surprises me is when the others also respond, though I have to transmit their ‘words’ to her. Fenrir immediately sends the sense of being glad to be with his pack. River and Sirocco are more hesitant, the bird only really sending the idea of being glad to have met us and travelled a little on the road together.
As for River, the emotions he sends are rather mixed, but since they seem positive overall, I pass them on to Bastet. For a moment we all feel connected, like more than a group of mismatched beings pulled together by me using a Skill. And then the moment is gone.
River, Fenrir, and Sirocco return to the corpse and their leisurely meal. Bastet stays crouching down by the bones, her gaze distant, her feelings muffled. Squatting down beside my companion, I run my hand once more over her head.
“Let me know if you need anything, OK?” I tell her, straightening up when I receive her agreement. Walking back towards the others, intending on picking up my new tool and getting back to work, my foot catches on something and I stumble. Looking down, I see that it was an unexpected chunk of rock sticking out of the ground. Then I look a bit more closely and my eyes go wide.
Is that what I think it is?