I scramble over to the prone raptorcat, meeting her eyes. They’re clear, focused, and containing very little obvious pain. I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s not like I thought it was likely, but there was always a possibility that something had gone wrong in the process somewhere.
“I thought I’d lost you,” I breathe, the words barely more than a whisper. Reassurance comes along the Bond along with a pointed question. “Yes, it’s dead,” I tell her, waving an arm at the corpse lying behind her. “Hope you’re hungry.” The eagerness that comes over from her side reveals that indeed, she’s starving. It’s not surprising – I’ve noticed that healing seems to consume resources in the body as well as mana; recovering from significant injuries leaves a body feeling like it hasn’t eaten for days. “Well, go on, then,” I tell her fondly.
Not needing any more invitation, the raptorcat pushes herself to her feet and pads over to start helping herself. She’s still a bit stiff, the healing having regenerated a fair amount of flesh. It’ll take some time for that flesh to start moving properly again. Lathani greets Bastet with an affectionate head rub and the cubs scramble over each other to rub themselves against her too, adorable squeaky sounds filling the air.
I stand there gazing at the felines. It’s a strange environment in which to feel this, but I do: contentment. We beat the enemy trying to kill us – and are currently eating our spoils. We’re temporarily safe from our other enemies, even if the situation isn’t tenable in the long term. And now, the cherry on the cake, our little family is back together: intact when I feared for so many agonising moments that it might be ripped apart like my first family was – twice. So yeah, I feel contentment even standing in a literal field of wrath and tears.
A large form comes to stand next to me. I don’t need to look to know it’s River. I do so anyway, curious about the feelings drifting through on the Bond. They’re not visible on his face, only the spikes that make up his crest showing a faint patterning of different colours to indicate his tumultuous emotional state. In his hands is a large lump of flesh. We stay there for a few moments before he broaches his thoughts.
You care about her, don’t you. About them. It’s not really a question even though the words really should indicate that it is.
“Yes,” I reply simply. “They’re family,” I admit. It feels strange to say – none of them is human in any sort of way, but we’ve made a family together, a pack. My recent foray into the world of connections has proven that without a doubt: the connections between us are far too strong to deny. Me, Bastet, the cubs, Lathani...I’d suspect even Kalanthia to an extent, though she’s still more aloof than any other in our strange pack. River is silent after that, both expression and emotions still too complex to easily decipher. I don’t try, wanting to offer him at least a little privacy. He’s earned that, at least.
“Is that the heart?” I ask after the silence makes it clear that he’s not intending on coming out of his thoughts any time soon. He looks down at the organ, almost like he’d forgotten he was holding it.
Oh. Yes. Here...Markus. He holds it out to me and I take it. The salamander heart is large – about the size of my head. I guess it would have to be, to pump blood around the body of the over-sized lizard.
“Thanks,” I reply simply. When it seems like he’s happy just to watch the felines play and eat, I shrug and look at the heart. Do I dare eat it raw? On the one hand, possible parasites and diseases that even Lay-on-hands can’t deal with. On the other, since I probably don’t have enough wood in my Inventory to cook it, I’d need to get wood from a forest which already wants to kill me… Just as I’m debating, a shadow passes over me. I glance up warily.
A dot flies far above us and I watch it with caution, remembering the last time I had a bird flying high above me. A brush over the Taming Bond in my chest reveals that – this time – the identity of the dot is that of an ally, not an enemy. The bird descends rapidly through the colourful sky, the sunset touching clouds with pink and orange. The sun is already below the level of the trees, though it doesn’t look like it’s dropped below the horizon yet.
With a flutter of wings, the bird banks to drastically reduce her speed and then lands on the top of the salamander. She shrieks softly and then climbs down the corpse to find an opening, her front two feet moving separately; her back two bunny hopping forwards in a motion that looks both awkward and oddly efficient. So she does eat meat? Why did she turn it down in the forest, then? In the end, I shrug to myself. If she eats meat, all the better: unlike it would probably be on Earth, meat seems the one thing I don’t have much trouble getting hold of.
“What did you find?” I ask the bird impatiently as it tears shreds off the corpse. I receive back an admonishment via the Bond, a hammer of a feeling that is essentially ‘I’m eating: wait’. I try to cross my arms, but I’m still holding the massive heart. Grumbling under my breath, I crouch and pull out the firewood I have left in my Inventory. I leave two long sticks that I could potentially use as torches but pull out the rest.
Perhaps it would be a better idea to save the branches, but I’m determined to eat this creature’s heart. If the bird tells me that going through the forest would be quick and easy, I’ve got half a torch and a couple of sticks I could turn into more, now I’ve got some breathing space. If we decide to risk the tunnel instead, I can grab a few chunks of deadwood without fearing that the wrath of the trees will be visited upon us later. Worst-case scenario, I don’t cook the meat fully; if I can get it hot enough to roast any potential parasites, that’s all I need.
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Crouching down, I pile the sticks together and get out my fire-starter. River kneels down to watch my actions when I start creating sparks which jump from the starter to the pile of dry material. I’m aware of his eyes on my every move as I go through what are now very practiced actions of lighting the fire, then building a spit for the heart above it. I use my knife to slice the heart into slices: at least if the meat is thinner, it will take less time to cook.
When the fire is ready, I use two sticks to essentially hold the meat flat above the fire, watching as the flames pop and flare as drops of liquid fall into them. I gaze up at the bird, still gorging itself. I wonder what news she will give me. I don’t actually know what I want her to tell me: that the edge of the forest is near and I should give up thoughts of exploring where the hole goes, or that it’s far and therefore the hole is our best option. I glare at the bird choking down a chunk of meat. Couldn’t she have told me before she decided to fill her beak?
This is what you use on the sticks you’ve been holding while travelling through the forest? River’s voice interrupts my thoughts. Probably just as well – they weren’t going anywhere good. I look at him with confusion and he indicates the fire with his claws.
“Yes. We call it ‘fire’.” He tilts his head, confusion emanating from him. He then makes a very strange sound, air hissing through his teeth. “What?” I ask with a frown. He repeats the same sound. My frown deepens as connections snap together. “Are you trying to say ‘fire’?” I ask curiously.
Yes, he agrees. I cannot seem to be able to pronounce it, though. Huh… Interesting. It seems there a limit to the translation that can be done via the Bond: if the concept doesn’t exist in the other person’s experience, they apparently hear exactly what the other is saying, rather than their mind’s interpretation. So while most of what I say probably is translated into the animalistic sounds and flashing of colour that River is used to, just like all of that is translated into words for me, ‘fire’ is such a new concept that it isn’t.
“What about ‘lightning’, do you know that?”
The bright flash which falls from the skies, accompanied by great sound, yes. We haven’t had any recently, though our shaman has predicted a storm to not be far away. I make a mental note. Not that there’s much I can do about it right now, of course, but it might be worth sticking close to Kalanthia’s cave for a few days after we get back.
“Well, fire is something that is sometimes created by lightning when it strikes something and everything around is very dry.” River gives off a feeling of solemnity.
The life-devourer. I know of that, though it has only happened once in my lifetime. I was barely out of the egg at that point so my brood-mother gathered me up with as many of my egg-siblings as she could. We hid with the rest of the Tribe in a specially dug underground shelter. It was very hot for a long time, and hard to breathe for a short time. Many died, mostly those who could not make it to the shelter in time. I’m sobered by the reminder that my experience of so many things in my safe, civilised world of living in a capital city in a developed country is far different from what many others experience. On Earth just as much as on this one. When a forest fire is the only experience a group has had with fire, it’s unsurprising that they would be wary of it.
“Well, this is a small, contained version of that. Actually, that salamander also used a version too, but I wouldn’t say that was small and contained,” I tell him, trying to bring his thoughts away from past losses. I don’t know about him, but I would have appreciated someone being able to do the same for me. I might not have ended up in this world if they had. A thought which sends an odd feeling through me. I dismiss it and turn back to my explanation.
“Fire needs three things: fuel, in this case the branches; oxygen, which is found in the air we can breathe; and a spark. In the case of your forest fire, oxygen and fuel were readily available, so the spark created by lightning was enough to cause a fire of epic proportions. Here, however, we limit the fuel and make sure that there is nothing directly nearby that could allow the fire to spread. That means that when we add the spark from my fire-starter, the fire is kept contained. Still dangerous, but not life-threatening unless we do something wrong.”
I see, River replies thoughtfully. And what is this...contained life-devourer useful for?
“It keeps the vine-strangler trees from attacking us, for one thing,” I explain. “Clearly they’re afraid of fire – for good reason, apparently, since they seem to be particularly vulnerable to it. For me it’s also useful for creating food – I can’t just eat raw meat like you can. Then, beyond that, there’s a whole world of infinite possibilities that all build off the ability to create and control fire. Possibilities you couldn’t even imagine.”
And you will build those? He actually sounds excited, his eyes gleaming and his spikes flickering with yellow, blue and green.
“No,” I laugh, then, seeing and feeling his immediate disappointment, modulate my answer. “Not all of them, anyway. And not immediately. The vast majority require equipment and tools that I don’t have access to. Maybe one day I’ll be able to build some very basic ones, but…” I shrug. What I don’t say is that I don’t know how far I’ll be able to – or should – progress along the path of technology. Anything electronic is so far out of the realms of possibility that it’s not even worth considering: not only do I not have anything like the right facilities, equipment, or materials for it, but I don’t have the knowledge either.
The survival knowledge stone I absorbed right at the start has some information about basic blacksmithing, enough to create a mold for some basic tools and arrowheads, but little else. Whether I even go that far will very much depend on how things develop with my own abilities – if I pick up an offensive Skill at level five, there might not be much point in advancing my weaponry. Of course, I’d also have to find the materials: I thought I might have seen the glint of metal ore in the raptorcat cave, but I haven’t been back to check – I might easily have been mistaken.
The first slice of meat is cooked enough for me to risk eating it. I pull it off the fire, replacing it with another. Then, as I’m about to sink my teeth into the still-bloody flesh, there’s a flutter of wings and the bird lands in front of me. She flips her wings back primly and looks at me, first with one eye then the other.
“Are you done eating?” I ask. Agreement comes through the Bond. Murphy is clearly on duty right now – She’s done just as I’m about to start! Oh well, I’ve had many working meals in the past: I can eat and plan, no problem. “Then what did you see?”