Having returned from the SteelPile, Jahwan hooked the sledge up to the tow cable at his earliest convenience, sitting on his new hunk of steel, eyes to the horizon, his spear in hand, gently sliding back towards the ramp of the Narwhal's open mouth, the tow cable much like a tongue, slowly dragging it's prey into it's open gullet. Jahwans eyes scanned the brown and yellow Sandy wastes, occasional spots of dead land appaearing like an undead oasis, no water, only rock, stone and hardened soil to show that there was anything there at all. Only the deeper brown any sign of a difference in the shifting landscape caused by the winds. Every now and then a dust devil would swirl forth, buffeted by the breeze to carry part of a dun somewhere else.
Most creatures stayed within the SteelPiles, places where life could take root from the sun, where occasionally water may be found. With the stars above shining brilliantly in the night as the sun sank further below the horizon, Jahwan lifted his gaze skyward, even the night skies had their own dangers. But it was possible to spot them against the backdrop of the Galaxy of stars far above. These winged creatures of the night we're both a boon, and a bane. With care, a breeding pair may be caught, and then you could farm them for eggs and meat. It was difficult to Do with wild ones, but possible. Though taking their offspring and training them was much easier, though it also meant you needed to grab a second wild pair for others to not cross breed too closely.
Depending on who you talked to, they had many names. The old ones called them batrices, some sort of chicken bat they said. The old timers used strange terms indeed. The adults, and young adults typically called them baggers, as they would swoop down on something, and close their wings around it, like a bag. The truly young simply called them nightmares, the unseen horrors that their parents warned them to stay inside at night for. The batrices were nocturnal, and when they went to sleep, the males would hang from anything they could, while females would make a nest to sleep in, and guard the young with. This gave the male great visual radius, and the female had little to worry about the young falling from a high perch just yet. Batrices were quite capable of climbing most surfaces, though metal was a touch harder to dig claws into, much less keep a grip in with their claws.
But Jahwan kept an eye out, half a mind to capture, the other to kill for defence and food. But he knew if he really wanted to have a breeding pair he'd need some Mulbits, these tiny little vegetarians we're diggers without a seconds hesitation. Big mole mits and mild wide claws for digging let them scoop and tunnel as they pleased. They mostly ate gingots, which typically grew in great supply anyhow, so they would be fine. But catching a Mulbit was much harder. As you typically needed an air snare and a net to keep them from escaping.
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Finally the sledge made contact with the ramp, and the release button slid out the front caster wheels, allowing it to glide up the ramp, until the second button made contact, and the sled runners stopped making contact with the sand outside, the second casters lowering and snapping into place. With this done, Jahwan hopped off the sledge and kept guard while it continued up the ramp. Once it was fully inside, he closed the ramp. Soon enough he'd need to start cutting it into chunks to melt down and make into playing for the repairs he needed to make, and then the wheels needed more reinforcement before he could head into the next zone. After all, not only would it have more troublesome weather, it would also have many angry plants. Covered in thorns and spines that would gouge out his large rubber tires. He'd had to spot melt a rubber chunk into place over the hole and then smooth it out again after he got out of the patch lands. So named cause anyone who went in unprepared needed patches. For their rig, for their tires, or for those really dumb, for their own flesh. It was not a safe place by many means.
The ramp shut, he hung his spear up in it's locker, much easier to reach with the ramp closed. With it secured he gave a cursory glance over his plants, stealing a few ripe gourds to help sweeten his meal. Tomorrow night would see more meat, and maybe with some effort he could have a smoker up and running. The hard part being what could he get to produce a smoke that wouldn't kill him. Or maybe he could get a different purifier up, and he could run mineral water through for some salt. Then he could salt the meat and make jerky. But that was usually something only bought from old coast settlements. Back where the seas had drained from they could find great salt deposits.
Jahwan hauled the sledge back to it's straps, locking both sledge and steel girder in place. Once this was seen to he moved up to check the incinerator and make some porridge in his cookpot. A bit of grains, some gourd juice, and a touch of fruit helped make it a rather decent meal, for porridge. Kind of like an oatmeal with fruit. After that, jahwan busies himself with designing a salt separator on his work table, paper wasn't cheap, but leather based canvas was. And so he worked through the night, drawing with ash and charcoal the designs and dimensions he thought he would need for his salt separator. Using an electric wire mesh, he figured he may be able to get some salt out of water he had picked up from the oasis, he kept these in storage barrel up top as well, they were good for brine and pickling, but salt was necessary for storage. Winter wasn't particularly a thing, but the storm season was. And storm season.... Was coming.