First Draw

by Tim Moon

  As he emerged from the pool, Jaron considered his situation. He now had a couple of levels and more skills which should prove helpful. None of his gear appeared with him but that was pretty much to be expected. If he wanted to collect his old gear, he might need to return to the spot where he died to collect it. That thought sent a chill down his spine.

  Jaron considered his route. There was no way he would traverse the swamp again which meant he had to find another way to Oakenport. Jaron had every intention of completing the quest chain he gained from freeing the children.

  With a simple thought, Jaron brought up his personal map. Thankfully, he had not lost any of the map. The path through the swamp showed they had travelled southeast to reach dry land on the far side. Oakenport was supposedly several days to the east from Fang Marsh. His map displayed the boundaries of the swamp and according to what it showed in gray scale; he could travel east along the edge of Fang Marsh until he passed it. The detour might take extra time, but it would put him closer to Oakenport and let him avoid the sharkodiles which was a big win.

  Satisfied with his plan, Jaron turned his attention to food which brought him back around to a weapon. He already missed the savage bone knife. Making a new spear would have been a snap.

  With that thought in mind, Jaron couldn’t help searching the area again for his items just to be sure they weren’t hidden by the grass or a bush. It was not to be. Convinced that his gear had been lost in the swamp, Jaron got his bearing from the map, took another sip of water from the stream, found a rock to chop with and set off to the east.

  Jaron kept his eyes open for good branches to make another spear. He eyed a few birds hungrily and imagined striking them down and roasting them over a fire. He could almost taste them.

  Grinning to himself at the thought, he realized he hadn’t spotted any other wildlife. He listened carefully as he walked through the forest and realized it was no wonder that he didn’t see any animals. Each footstep seemed to unconsciously find things to crunch and snap. Animals must hear him coming from a mile away.

  Gritting his teeth at another rookie mistake, Jaron made a concerted effort to move quietly. Walking mindfully paid off after a few minutes when he startled a squirrel. It squeaked at him as it scampered up one of the purple-leafed trees.

  Jaron almost hurled the stone at it, but it was way too fast for him. He needed larger prey anyway. Squirrel meat could hardly be considered an appetizer.

  A large fallen tree ahead piqued his interest. It was the perfect place to find a branch to make into a spear. He climbed atop the tree and walked along the trunk. The bark felt like a wonderful massage on his bare feet.

  Eventually, he found the perfect branch on the side of the tree and climbed down to break it off. Jaron grabbed it about four feet from the trunk with both hands and since it was high enough from the ground, he hung from it. The branch creaked and sagged under his weight but held.

  This is some strong wood, he thought.

  Jaron went further out from the trunk to get more leverage, got a firm grip and walked the branch back towards the trunk as far as he could. It bent like a giant bow and then he pulled it quickly with a sharp tug, bending it past its limits. The branch cracked and creaked and then with a sudden pop, snapped off when he was just two feet from the trunk.

  He slammed against the truck but came away with a wide grin, holding the branch overhead in victory. The he used the rock to chop off the little branches and peel off the bark just like the first time.

  The broken end would become the butt of the spear. The branch itself was about two inches in diameter which gave it a nice heft and it tapered to about an inch in diameter where he planned to break off the end and sharpen the point. This version of his spear would give him better range by nearly three feet.

  Several times, Jaron’s work was interrupted when he heard movement nearby. He took cover underneath the tree trunk. It gave him a great view of each side so he couldn’t be ambushed. The sharkodile attack proved that death could take him at any moment, and he promised himself that he would maintain better situational awareness.

  Head on a swivel, he thought.

  Once the tip of the spear had a decent point, Jaron continued his trek to the east. Going through his notifications, he saw the resurrection penalty taking effect. It cut his crafting experience in half to just 5%. He quickly read and dismissed the skill notification with a scowl.

  It felt good to be armed again though, and Jaron kept an eye out for hunting opportunities. He imagined roasting a small boar over a fire and could practically taste the fatty goodness of bacon. His mouth began to water and for a moment, he truly missed home. The sensation faded quickly.

  The ground began to rise slowly into the distance. Even though the slope was gentle, it didn’t take long before his legs began to ache with the effort.

  Not again, he thought. Jaron’s stamina hovered just below 50%, which wasn’t a problem but that didn’t accurately reflect the deep burn in his thighs. When he couldn’t take any more, he found a good place to sit and practically flopped on the ground.

  Jaron’s mind drifted and began to replay the last few days in his mind. What a whirlwind it had been. So much had happened, and things were only getting started.

  An ant crawled across Jaron’s toes, disrupting his thoughts. The tiny insect’s footsteps tickled when it went to explore one of the crevices between his toes. He watched it race across his foot in a chaotic pattern. Ants were edible, he realized.

  He stuck his finger in its path and watched as it crawled onto it after a thorough inspection. Jaron brought the ant up and peered at it closely.

  “I’m not that desperate,” Jaron said to himself. He blew the ant off his finger and it landed back on his foot.

  They were fascinating insects, one of his favorites when it came to bugs, and there was no reason to ruin this one’s day. Jaron wriggled his toes and the ant ran away back into the detritus on the forest floor. He stood with a yawn and continued his journey.

  Jaron angled slightly downhill to reduce his stamina usage and increase his pace. He wanted to catch up with Cyprus and the kids before they reached Oakenport. Both had quests related to helping the kids and they needed to plan out how to fulfill them both efficiently without causing unnecessary drama with the townsfolk.

  Thinking about the trouble dealing with small town people made Jaron weary. Townsfolk often had overlapping loyalties, a oversized suspicion of outsiders, secrets and rivalries that only a local would understand. Lost in his thoughts, Jaron almost stumbled into a stream that crossed his path. Only the burbling sound of water and the sudden glint of sunlight made him notice the six-foot-wide stream. He frowned at his lapse of awareness, but the scowl quickly fled when he saw the flash of a fish swimming for cover.

  Crouching, Jaron crept forward to the edge of the stream and stopped in a shaded spot to wait. His spear tip hovered over the edge, waiting to pierce the fish’s scaly hide.

  “Come to little fishy,” Jaron muttered. “Come to daddy.”

  The fish darted into view, but he was too slow. He remained there striking at the annoying fish for an hour until his anger boiled over. Jaron growled in frustration and slapped the water with the spear. Hair on the back of his neck stood at the faint sound of laughter.

  Jaron spun around, searching for any sign of people in the forest. He dashed to a tree and slowly looked around it. He still didn’t see anything, and the sound didn’t repeat. Seconds turned into minutes as he waited and watched. When no other sounds could be heard above the stream, he began to doubt himself. It could have been a bird call. There was a screaming bird in the swamp. Why not a laughing one too?

  Releasing a sigh of frustration, Jaron looked up. The sun was well past noon and he could tell the shadows were growing long in the forest. He would have to build shelter soon.

  The water looked clear and felt cooler than the other stream. He took a few sips to quench his thirst and considered his options. If h
e stayed close to the stream, he would have a chance at seeing wildlife and he could stay hydrated. He didn’t have the energy to push himself. So, that proved persuasive enough.

  Without further ado, Jaron began to search for a good place to build his shelter. Not even fifty feet from where he’d been fishing, he noticed something that made him pump his fist in the air and shout.

  “Hell yeah!”

  A large patch of wood sorrel grew along the shore near a rock outcrop. Unlike the berries of death, he knew these were edible. They may not taste great or fill him up, but they were something to calm his gurgling stomach. Seriously, his stomach made so much noise it probably contributed at least 50% of the noise that scared away potential prey.

  Shelter vanished from Jaron’s thoughts as he knelt and began to pick bunches of the green plant. He took a bite and savored the sour lemon flavor. The stalks were full of juice and it made for a refreshing snack. He nibbled some more, feeling like a giant rabbit.

  Congratulations! You have utilized your knowledge of plants to identify a wild edible - wood sorrel. You have progressed in your Survival skill by 25%. Continue honing your skills to reach your true potential.

  This forest treat wasn’t going to finish off his quest Rumbly in My Tumbly II, but it gave Jaron’s body something to work on and buoyed his spirits. He enjoyed a few more handfuls of forest salad before continuing his quest for shelter.

  A mere stone’s throw away from where he stood, Jaron found a pair of boulders topped by fallen logs that would serve as the core of his shelter. One of the logs had fallen against the other creating a natural lean-to shape. Together with the rocks to block wind, the area would allow him to quickly build the perfect debris hut. And to top it all off, the spot wasn’t far from the sorrel or the stream.

  Jaron poked around to make sure there were no snakes or spiders and then leaned his spear against the fallen tree. He brushed aside leaves and twigs with his foot to check the ground for rocks or other undesirable things like pointy sticks or thorny brambles, and then began to scoop up the nearby leaves. They would create a large pile that would insulate him from the cold ground. When he had a mound that reached his waist, Jaron lay down on it to test it out. The mass compressed under his weight and although it was noisy when he moved, the leaves were quite comfortable. It was too early to rest and there was still work to do. He scavenged an armful of big sticks to place along the leaning tree trunk. These would serve as his walls and create a crude A-frame.

  Jaron stopped again and listened, scanning the area. He didn’t hear anything specific like before, but he had the odd feeling of being watched. When nothing appeared out of place for several minutes, he continued to work.

  Layers of branches and smaller twigs created a lattice that allowed Jaron to cover the whole shelter with more leaves. This simple debris roof would help to hold in his body heat. There wasn’t much room inside but that was part of what made it all work.

  One end was fully closed while the other had a small opening. Jaron collected yet another bunch of sticks and quickly weaved them together to make an improvised door that he could use at night to block the entrance or serve as a windscreen for the fire he intended to build.

  Several feet out from the entrance, Jaron cleared the ground of combustible material until he reached the dark, rich soil underneath and once again used rocks from along the stream to create a fire ring. He chose rocks as far from the stream as possible so they would have less moisture in them and reduce the chance of explosions as the water inside the porous rock turned to steam. Few things would ruin his evening more than catching some rock shrapnel.

  Within twenty minutes he had collected enough firewood, created a tiny ember and built up a toasty warm fire. Since he still had daylight left, Jaron found a few long sticks to create a ramp for some of the bigger pieces of wood. The ramp would automatically feed the fire as the wood below burned away.

  All that work translated into what was sure to be a comfortable evening and another 20% to his survival skill. Putting him almost halfway to level 3 in the skill.

  Jaron sat near the fire, rubbing his hands and enjoying the warmth as darkness fell and the stars shone brilliantly in the sky overhead.

  23

  Early morning found Jaron snug in his shelter. The fire burned low, eating away at the last log in his auto-feeder. He opened his eyes with a yawn and emerged from the shelter just before dawn.

  Following the “leave no trace” principles he had been raised on as a kid, Jaron did his best to return the forest to its natural state. Ball shriveling trips into the stream let him use the loincloth as a sponge which he squeezed out over the fire. Stirring the ashes with a stick made sure it was fully out before he knocked down the shelter, covered the fire pit with dirt, and spread out all the debris.

  Jaron went back to the stream to splash water on his face. The shock of cold water refreshed his mind and body. After rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Jaron used that burst of energy to launch into a calisthenic workout. The routine earned him another 10% skill progress in athletics which felt great.

  Bathing in the stream was a real treat, especially after working up a sweat. Jaron spent extra time rinsing his loincloth. The thing looked awful and he didn’t want to compound that by having it be as dirty as it looked. He didn’t wait for the cloth to dry before tying back on, eating a quick breakfast of sorrel and then resuming his journey.

  Jaron willed his personal map to appear and checked his location. It felt like he made good time, but it was hard to tell since he had to cross rough forest while Cyprus and the kids would almost certainly be on the king’s road by now. The next few days might need to include running in order to catch up. If Jaron missed them, he would be forced to search for them in Oakenport which he understood to be a rather large city. Cyprus would surely stand out but it would still take time to find him.

  Beautiful trees, bushes and flowers brightened the journey. In one place a log had fallen across the stream and had been overtaken by bright green vines with giant red flowers. Butterflies and bees danced near the blossoms gathering nectar.

  Many of the tall pine trees had the same kind of stringy moss that reminded him of home. As he admired the trees, something white flashed between the trees ahead. Jaron froze in place and scanned carefully. A bush rattled and a rabbit the size of a golden retriever stepped into view.

  Food! Jaron’s eyes went wide and he had to put a hand on a nearby tree to fight the urge to give chase. Small rabbits were fast. He could only imagine how quick a giant one like that could run.

  The rabbit sat on its haunches and stared right at him. Its nose twitched and the ears panned like radar dishes before it bounded away. Jaron took a tentative step forward and then stopped. The rabbit stopped to look back at him.

  “Fuck it,” Jaron muttered as he sprinted through the forest.

  The white rabbit took off like a bolt of lightning, yet it stayed just in view, even stopping a few times to look back at him. All Jaron thought about was rabbit stew, roasted rabbit legs and crispy rabbit ears. Wait, was that a thing? He chuckled to himself at the absurdity of it.

  After closing half the distance, Jaron slowed down and peered around a tree. There were a lot of low bushes and the trees thinned out here. The advantage went to the rabbit, but ravenous hunger drove him on.

  Follow the white rabbit, he thought, thrilled by the hunt.

  Jaron pressed ahead, scanning the whole area. When he caught sight of the animal, it moved to his right and when Jaron took a step in that direction, it bolted to the left. A grin lit his face as he chased after it.

  The rabbit juked right. Jaron dodged past a tree and leaped over a rock, in hot pursuit. The spear in his hand felt heavy and clumsy but it was all he had. He was going to eat that rabbit!

  Then the rabbit stopped again and looked at him.

  This was getting weird. Jaron skidded to a stop, suddenly unsure. Gasping for breath, he saw how much his stamina dwindled from a sev
ere lack of conditioning. Was the rabbit toying with him?

  It bounded off again and he felt compelled to continue the chase. In less than a minute, the forest thinned out and he saw a brightly lit meadow ahead. The rabbit stopped, silhouetted by the light and glanced at him again. Unsettled by the animal’s behavior, he nevertheless enjoyed the break. He put his hands atop his head and gulped in deep breaths. Sweat trickled down the side of his face, paused for a moment at the curve of his jaw and then dripped onto his chest.

  Jaron felt a strange nervousness, but a gentle voice inside urged him to follow the creature.

  The ground grew soft with moss and the air filled with the sweet fragrance of flowers. A gentle breeze cooled his sweat. He walked forward to the edge of the clearing and his eyes went wide. The meadow spread out to reveal a glorious oasis in the forest. In fact, Jaron realized this place with its lush grass, beautiful flowers, and fluttering butterflies was truly a slice of heaven on Earth. Heaven on Drezkarn? Whatever. It was gorgeous.

  Off to his left, he saw the rabbit bound through the grass like a deer and come to a stop beside a tall stone statue of a beautiful woman. How had he missed that? Jaron gasped as a tingling wave of awe and comfort washed over him. This place was special, unique. Holy even.

  The rabbit poked its head out and looked at him from behind the statue. It looked up at the woman, squeaked, glanced at him again and then dashed into the forest. Jaron gaped at the statue, mesmerized. Part of him wanted to follow the rabbit and score a much-needed meal but he couldn’t leave the meadow, he didn’t want to. The statue had hypnotized him.

  Without consciously deciding, Jaron walked through the tall grass with purpose. His heart sang at the beauty, strength and seemingly chaotic order of it all. Bees buzzed past and butterflies meandered from blossom to blossom. Birds warbled and chirped out an orchestra that moved him deep in his soul.