Chapter 8: Bump in the Night pt.2

I’m glad this clearing is basically stone so I can cut pretty evenly. I think as I start cutting the hide scraps into long strips. I have around nine pounds of hide at this point, so I’ve got plenty to work with.

Now that I have the strips cut, I check over each shaft. There are two thicker and two thinner poles. I have the nearby Cody check a thicker one and it matches pretty well, while Trevor and I both have similar hand sizes.

Next I use the chisel to split the top of each pole, marking the spot for the spear tip. Then I add some of the sinew at the bottom, with a splash of water, and begin wrapping the shafts. Every quarter way through I double check the tightness and add some more sinew to glue the leather to the wood. I stop at the third quarter mark on each shaft before setting them aside. As I’m working on the fourth shaft, Trevor approaches. He allows me to finish where I’m at before speaking.

“Any chance you’ve managed to make that larger chisel? I have the plans drawn out for the grinder, and I just need the tools to set it in motion,” he asks

“Umm. Not yet, to be honest it kind of slipped my mind, I can get it to you by the end of the day I think,” I tell him.

“Sure, thanks Elizabeth,” he says before heading back to Big Mike, who is currently hauling a large stone into the clearing.

I check the bone pile and get the mental rightness I’ve been waiting for with the bones. I find the closest match, and start working it with the smaller chisel. It only takes a couple hours and honestly wasn’t that hard, but I’ve got the chisel done.

I pass the completed tool off to Trevor and head back to the wood.

The shafts are drying, I’ll do the tips tomorrow, so I guess it’s time to start on the big one. I think as I drag the hunk of wood over. With this one I start by chiseling away layers until I have a long block at about two inches thick. Then I measure it against my left hand and start peeling away until I can comfortably wrap my hand around it. Then I start tapering downwards and outwards from the area my hand wrests until I have less than an inch of space to work with. I keep tapering it gradually towards the end where it sits around a quarter of an inch. After finishing both sides, it’s getting pretty late. So I set the piece next to the spear shafts, and head over to the fire. Just as I start eating, Chris and David return. On Chris’s back is the basket-pack I made.

“I borrowed this,” he says as he sets it down and starts pulling out some blue and red colored berries.

“I’m not sure if they’re edible, but David wanted to bring them back,” he grunts out.

I leave him to his berries and focus on my food. Avoiding conversation I slip into the teepee and drift off to sleep.

I am the last to wake the following morning. The aching muscles protest as I stand but I force myself up. Sneaking into the forest to relieve myself, I hear the guys chat over breakfast.

“Yup, no issues last night, not even the moon came out to say high. Maybe it was embarrassed about the spiders,” Big Mike says.

“Yup, cause the moon is totally responsible for the spiders,” Jamie, the typically shy boy says as he focuses on his flute.

By the time I return to the fire the young man is playing a soothing melody. I sit back and relax next to the others, all conversation paused as we eat and listen.

After breakfast I start carving again. The base is there, now I just need to taper in the edges, and create some notches. It takes a good hour or two, but it's finally done. I grab some of the remaining loose hide strips and put a backing on the wooden limbs with the sinew as glue. I fully wrap the grip while I’m at it.

Setting that piece in the sun, I rifle through the bone fragments until I have a good forty small pieces, and 4 large shards. Setting those near the wooden spear shafts. I sort out the remaining wood layers until I have several thick enough. I take one piece and slowly whittle it down until it matches the length of one arm to the center of my chest. Then I split the others as uniformly as possible, and finally chisel them down into small shafts. I have to get a few more wood pieces to get forty of them, and I ended up missing lunch. At some point Trevor swung by and dropped off some jerky for me to chew on, but I was so in the zone I barely acknowledged him.

Like the spears, I carefully split each shaft at the end, before grabbing some feathers. I make sure each one is still in good condition, then I use the claw to split on one side of the seam. Taking the last of the split sinew, I glue the feathers to the shafts in the typical three feather pattern.

Leaving those out to dry as well, I get on with chiseling the bone fragments. At this point I just tap them with as little force as possible while still cutting into the bone. By the end of the day I have almost all the shards tapered into a flat point.

That night, I dream of my father and the first few times he’d taken my hunting. I was only a teen, my father’s rifle in hand as we followed the path into the deep woods. The endless forest seems to close in on me but my fathers broad shoulders give me something to focus on. I trip on a root and his hand shoots out to stabilize me, a teasing grin on his face. Our matching green eyes meet and I can't help but grin back. With a shake of his head he pulls me onward.

We stop to inspect some tracks, my Dad showing me what to look for and how to tell how old they are. We follow the trail to a local stream that we survey from a nearby hill. There we find them. A half dozen deer drinking from the water. He has me line up the rifle, the wooden stock pressed against my shoulder. I go through the motions just like I would at the range behind the house. I let out a breath and pull the trigger. Dad pats me on the back with a shine in his eye before he steps towards the dying animal. The dream of a memory fades and I awaken into the morning.

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Apparently, I’m not the last one up today. I pass by both Trevor and Big Mike, on my way out of the shelter. I grab the usual grub, and make my way to the crafting area. It’s not until I’m done checking over the spear shafts that I notice something new.

When did they even do this?! I mentally scream with excitement. Sitting to the side of my area is a circular grindstone.

I run back to the bone shards and bring them over and within a few hours they’re all ground near flawlessly.

Although it did take Watcher throwing water on the stone to deal with the friction. I internally grumble despite my excitement.

Finally, I grab one of the last two strands of sinew, break it apart, and add a bit of water and start attaching the heads to shafts. Once all the small ones are done I fit on the larger, making sure each piece is snug, I finish wrapping the leather strips. Now I just have to wait for each of them to dry. As I wait for that to finish up, which will probably take another day, I grab some scaled hide from Watcher and wrap it into a cone like shape. Using my sewing needle, I stitch it together with some of the leftover sinew, then add a piece of wood to the base of it on the inside. To finish it off, I add a loop of braided reed from a small hole in the top, then make a small belt to wrap around my waist.

I’ve finished all my current goals and take a much needed break. The sun is still high in the sky, but after these past few days, I feel that I deserve it.

—————

After a few hours of just laying in the sun, two shadows fall over me. I squint open my eyes to see Trevor and Big Mike. With a painful heave, I pull myself up and immediately grab the two into a group hug.

“Did you two really spend the last couple days just working on that?!” I ask

“You know we did, little miss,” Mike says

“We knew you needed it,” Trevor adds in.

I let the two boys go and look them in the eyes.

“Thank you so much, I got so much done today, you don’t even know,” I say as I grab them both by the hands and pull them over to the spears.

I pick one of the thinner ones up and toss it to Trevor, then throw a thick one to Mike.

“Check these out, I just finished them up today.”

Trevor clumsily catches his, then grips the leather. Mike plucks his out of the air with ease, then flips it around like a baton twirler before stamping the base onto the ground.

“Woah, these are way sturdier than the previous ones,” Trevor says, admiring the structure of the spear.

“Good work, Elizabeth” he adds in. Meanwhile, Mike just has a huge grin on his face.

“Mike, do you have training with spear-use?” I ask the giant as he continues twirling the spear.

“Hmm. A bit. I used to do HEMA for fun when I was a teenager,” he says.

“Maybe you could teach us some basics?” I ask, Trevor nodding along.

“Sure thing.” He glances at Trevor.

“Maybe we can start tomorrow evening?” he asks

“Absolutely, thank you Mike, and thanks again to both of you.” I give a massive smile to the pair as they head back to their tasks.

As I head back to the campfire, I hear some musical tones. I lie back down in the sun, a light airy melody passing through my ears.

If we weren’t struggling to survive, this would be a great vacation. I think as I focus on the sounds and the passing breeze. The melody combines with that sound of moving leaves, and the crackling of the fire. Before I know it I’m drifting off to sleep.

I wake around sunset to the chattering voices of the guys and with a solid stretch, I sit up and look around. The whole group is back and passing around the jerky. I reach out and take some from a vocal Trevor, and chew on the meat as I listen to them speak. As the sun sets most of the guys go inside. Only John, Trevor and I are still up.

“….So Chris is following along as David leads the way, and the both of us watch as our intrepid explorer trips on an exposed root and falls into a roll. Now, of course we’re going down a hill, and David just keeps rolling until he’s at the edge of the ravine. I’m panicking, Chris is running and shouting, and we finally catch up to David to find him laughing hysterically with his feet dangling over the edge,” John continues telling his story. Letting out a sharp relieved laugh at the end.

“That’s terrifying yet amazing. I’m glad you three had a good time?” Trevor ask

“The best of times,” John says with a grin.

“On that note, are you two going to be up awhile? I could use a good night's rest.” We both wave him off, as he trudges to the shelter.

Without any sunlight, I don’t really know what to do. I think to myself.

“How are you doing John?” I ask as I lay back down, feeling the heat of the fire mixing with the cool night’s breeze.

“I’m okay Elzabeth. Honestly, I'm a little lost with my Path, but other than the fighting, this isn’t so bad,” he says as he lies down too. Both of us staring at the stars from the opposite sides of the fire.

“Orator right? Like public speaking and that kind of thing?” I ask the mop headed man. He’s started losing weight and you can tell he’s put on at least a little muscle.

“Yep, and I can’t help but feel like I messed up choosing it. Sure I like the idea of it, but it’s not exactly useful in this situation, you feel me?” John says.

“I understand, I’m hoping if we earn enough levels, we can switch paths or upgrade them or something. But the paths aren’t everything, John. They’re a tool, sure they help, but you can still develop yourself without it,” I tell him my thoughts on the matter.

“You know, I reckon you have a point. I’ve just gotta stop feeling sorry for myself, and start doing more. I’ve been trying, I just don’t really understand how you all have so much energy to do things,” he says.

“I don’t think it’s that simple, I mean I certainly use a lot of energy, but I surprisingly love crafting things, making tools that’ll help our companions. The monsters are downright terrifying, but it’s kind of exhilarating in a way I would have never expected. To be fair though, I think we’re all going to have a lot of trauma when we make it through this,” I ramble.

“When we make it through this? Not if? That’s a lot of certainty you have there,” he says.

“I kinda have to, if I thought otherwise I don’t think I’d make it through the day,” I say.

“I’m not an expert, John, but if you’d like my opinion I’ll give it to you,” I add.

“Shoot, can’t be any worse than my own thoughts” he says.

“Tell stories John,” I say while sitting up.

“You chose your path for a reason, it doesn’t have to be the day-to-day of our lives, make them up or even use old movies we will all probably never see again,” I let out a chuckle.

“…That’s certainly something to think about,” he says before turning over.

We both sit in silence watching the bright stars as we pass the night away. At some point, Chris and David come and relieve us.

I fall asleep with a tinge of excitement. Tomorrow I put my new toy together.