5 Zi'da 720
wealth Skill: Fieldcraft
Dan sat on the ground near the fire, warming up his feet and ruefully examining the cracked, worn-thin, sole on one of his battered boots, that had allowed the melting frost to seep through and freeze his feet, and hoping he could manage to patch it somehow. His only other footwear was his shoes, and although they were comfortable in the Hot Cycle they were rather too light and cool for Zi'da and Cylus. He sighed, and fetched one of his cured rabbit skins, as well as his leather-working kit, and reminded himself to keep an eye on the sun - he needed to check his traps while there was still light to see by.
He carefully traced the outline of the boot onto the cured skin with a bit of burnt twig, and cut round it with his knife, trying not to spoil the hide by wavering off the traced line. The leftover pieces, he set aside to cut into thin thongs to use as ties for all kinds of things, and replacement parts for his smaller snares. He drew out a strip of dried sinew, placed it on the ground and pounded on it with a mallet until it split into seperate, individual fibres that he could use to fasten the new sole to the old upper. This meant poking small holes in both the sole and the upper with his leather-working awl, and then poking the sinew through the holes, pulling it tight, and knotting it into place. It was harder than it looked. The pieces kept sliding against each other so that the holes went crooked, and while the sinew was better for this than a thong, it still wasn't the easiest thing to thread through the holes in the first place. Part of the reason for that was that he had left the fur on the rabbit skin for extra warmth, and that fur kept fluffing out and hiding the holes. For now, he made do with what he had, tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration.
When he finally finished, he tugged and twisted the boot a few times to make sure that the stitches were secure, then brushed the dirt off his foot and pulled his boot back on. He wriggled his toes for a long moment, luxuriating in the softness of the fur beneath them, then sighed, and began to pack everything away. He couldn't afford to mislay any of his scant belongings, so he kept everything tidy and in its place where he could find it the next time he needed it. Once everything was packed up, he set out for his traps.
He checked his fish trap first. When he arrived on the bank of the stream, he slid his gathering bag off, dropped it and his spear beside him, and sprawled on his stomach where he could gaze into the rippling water. He brushed his fingers through the over-hanging grass, searching less than idly for the thin rope tethering his fish trap to the land. Off to his left, a backwater in the stream showed the pointed spikes of cattail and the lower bushiness of watercress stubborn enough to survive any weather.
His questing fingers snagged on the rope and he wrapped them round it and hauled it in until it lay against the bank, weighted down by the stones inside. He drew his knees up so that he was kneeling in the grass instead of lying, gripped the fish trap tightly and heaved it up onto the bank beside him. From there he could check it for fish, and he did so, grinning as he found not one, but two fish caught inside. Both were rather small, but together they would make enough for a pot of thin soup. He killed them with quick blows to the head, and began to clean and gut them on the spot, before stowing them in his bag. As usual, the guts went back into the trap as bait, and the trap went back into the stream. It wasn't yet cold enough to freeze over and prevent him from using the trap, and he intended to keep using it for as long as he could. It was such an efficient way to catch food.
From the stream, he meandered along the bank and up a narrow track to his rabbit snares. All three of the snares had been sprung. Two of them lay empty, while the third held an old, thin, rabbit, and Dan couldn't help but wonder if the rabbit had chosen his snare as a way to go out quickly rather than starve slowly in the cold. He broke its neck cleanly to be sure, tucked it into his bag to gut later, where the blood-smell wouldn't scare off other rabbits, and re-set his snares once more. They lay on what he thought was a regular rabbit route-of-travel, so he didn't need to bait them, just set them on the trail where the rabbits would snag in them as they ran along it.
It took a little while, but eventually he was finished and could move on to check the old pit trap, his gaze taking everything in as he went. He trudged forward along the path, letting his eyes sweep ahead of him for clues and warnings and keeping his ears pricked for any warning sounds. He turned the corner, and came into view of the stretch of path where he had made his pit trap. His gaze snapped instinctively to where the pit was, and found that it was visible. Something had fallen down into the pit and taken most of the covering leaves and branches with it. He let out a long breath of air, and hefted his spear in his hands in case whatever it was was still alive and needed to be quickly and neatly dispatched. Then he walked quietly forward along the path, taking care not to catch his feet on any roots or slippery leaves that might send him tumbling into the pit himself. He remembered enough of how crumbling and slippery the edge of the pit was to stand a pace or so back from it as he leaned forward and peered down into it to see what he had caught.
It was a wild boar. It glared up at him with small beady eyes, and then reared up, as a domestic pig might lift itself up to rest its forelegs on a gate or wall. Fortunately, the pit was deep enough that it couldn't reach to stick its hooves over the edge. It hammered them into the dirt side of the pit instead, bristling with fury, and squealed at him. Long, curved, tusks jabbed fruitlessly at the air before it dropped to all fours again. Dan took a step back out of caution, and circled the pit, looking for a good place to strike. At least in the pit, he didn't have to worry about it charging him, only about getting it out afterwards.
The boar circled too, so that it stayed facing him, and Dan felt his mouth crook upwards in a grin that was as much rueful acknowledgement as anything else. He was going to have to take it from the front, not the side. He rolled the spear so that the flat sides of his spear head ran parallel to the animal's ribs and would therefore slide between them rather than getting stuck against them, and shifted his grip so that he was holding it much closer to the butt end of the spear. Then he stepped forward, giving the boar a closer look at him. Again, it reared up, but this time, Dan wasn't watching the hooves hammering on the side of the pit, trying to break it down, or the stabbing tusks. He watched the dark chest, and as it reached the highest point of its lunge, he slammed his spear down into it with all the strength he could muster.
The spear slid between the ribs and deep into the chest. The boar screamed, a sound at once as shrill and bloodcurdling as that of a dying rabbit, and yet somehow almost human. Dan shoved again, harder, deeper, seeking the heart even as his feet skidded in the frosty mud, imprinting the struggle in lasting footprints. The boar's scream died to a gurgle, and it slipped back, sliding off the spear in a welter of blood, and the light in its eyes dimmed, faded, and then went out entirely.
Dan heaved a breath of relief and waited for a long moment to be sure it was dead. Boar had a reputation for taking their revenge on their hunters even as they were dying, and tusks like that could do a lot of damage (or fetch a fair bit of nel if he sold them). But there was a ton of meat there too, and Dan had no plans to waste any of it. If he couldn't get it out by himself, he thought, climbing down into the pit to cut its throat and let out the blood that could spoil the meat if left to curdle on its own, he would go back for the ponies and have them haul it out for him to process.
"Signed words" Spoken words
wealth Skill: Fieldcraft
Dan sat on the ground near the fire, warming up his feet and ruefully examining the cracked, worn-thin, sole on one of his battered boots, that had allowed the melting frost to seep through and freeze his feet, and hoping he could manage to patch it somehow. His only other footwear was his shoes, and although they were comfortable in the Hot Cycle they were rather too light and cool for Zi'da and Cylus. He sighed, and fetched one of his cured rabbit skins, as well as his leather-working kit, and reminded himself to keep an eye on the sun - he needed to check his traps while there was still light to see by.
He carefully traced the outline of the boot onto the cured skin with a bit of burnt twig, and cut round it with his knife, trying not to spoil the hide by wavering off the traced line. The leftover pieces, he set aside to cut into thin thongs to use as ties for all kinds of things, and replacement parts for his smaller snares. He drew out a strip of dried sinew, placed it on the ground and pounded on it with a mallet until it split into seperate, individual fibres that he could use to fasten the new sole to the old upper. This meant poking small holes in both the sole and the upper with his leather-working awl, and then poking the sinew through the holes, pulling it tight, and knotting it into place. It was harder than it looked. The pieces kept sliding against each other so that the holes went crooked, and while the sinew was better for this than a thong, it still wasn't the easiest thing to thread through the holes in the first place. Part of the reason for that was that he had left the fur on the rabbit skin for extra warmth, and that fur kept fluffing out and hiding the holes. For now, he made do with what he had, tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration.
When he finally finished, he tugged and twisted the boot a few times to make sure that the stitches were secure, then brushed the dirt off his foot and pulled his boot back on. He wriggled his toes for a long moment, luxuriating in the softness of the fur beneath them, then sighed, and began to pack everything away. He couldn't afford to mislay any of his scant belongings, so he kept everything tidy and in its place where he could find it the next time he needed it. Once everything was packed up, he set out for his traps.
He checked his fish trap first. When he arrived on the bank of the stream, he slid his gathering bag off, dropped it and his spear beside him, and sprawled on his stomach where he could gaze into the rippling water. He brushed his fingers through the over-hanging grass, searching less than idly for the thin rope tethering his fish trap to the land. Off to his left, a backwater in the stream showed the pointed spikes of cattail and the lower bushiness of watercress stubborn enough to survive any weather.
His questing fingers snagged on the rope and he wrapped them round it and hauled it in until it lay against the bank, weighted down by the stones inside. He drew his knees up so that he was kneeling in the grass instead of lying, gripped the fish trap tightly and heaved it up onto the bank beside him. From there he could check it for fish, and he did so, grinning as he found not one, but two fish caught inside. Both were rather small, but together they would make enough for a pot of thin soup. He killed them with quick blows to the head, and began to clean and gut them on the spot, before stowing them in his bag. As usual, the guts went back into the trap as bait, and the trap went back into the stream. It wasn't yet cold enough to freeze over and prevent him from using the trap, and he intended to keep using it for as long as he could. It was such an efficient way to catch food.
From the stream, he meandered along the bank and up a narrow track to his rabbit snares. All three of the snares had been sprung. Two of them lay empty, while the third held an old, thin, rabbit, and Dan couldn't help but wonder if the rabbit had chosen his snare as a way to go out quickly rather than starve slowly in the cold. He broke its neck cleanly to be sure, tucked it into his bag to gut later, where the blood-smell wouldn't scare off other rabbits, and re-set his snares once more. They lay on what he thought was a regular rabbit route-of-travel, so he didn't need to bait them, just set them on the trail where the rabbits would snag in them as they ran along it.
It took a little while, but eventually he was finished and could move on to check the old pit trap, his gaze taking everything in as he went. He trudged forward along the path, letting his eyes sweep ahead of him for clues and warnings and keeping his ears pricked for any warning sounds. He turned the corner, and came into view of the stretch of path where he had made his pit trap. His gaze snapped instinctively to where the pit was, and found that it was visible. Something had fallen down into the pit and taken most of the covering leaves and branches with it. He let out a long breath of air, and hefted his spear in his hands in case whatever it was was still alive and needed to be quickly and neatly dispatched. Then he walked quietly forward along the path, taking care not to catch his feet on any roots or slippery leaves that might send him tumbling into the pit himself. He remembered enough of how crumbling and slippery the edge of the pit was to stand a pace or so back from it as he leaned forward and peered down into it to see what he had caught.
It was a wild boar. It glared up at him with small beady eyes, and then reared up, as a domestic pig might lift itself up to rest its forelegs on a gate or wall. Fortunately, the pit was deep enough that it couldn't reach to stick its hooves over the edge. It hammered them into the dirt side of the pit instead, bristling with fury, and squealed at him. Long, curved, tusks jabbed fruitlessly at the air before it dropped to all fours again. Dan took a step back out of caution, and circled the pit, looking for a good place to strike. At least in the pit, he didn't have to worry about it charging him, only about getting it out afterwards.
The boar circled too, so that it stayed facing him, and Dan felt his mouth crook upwards in a grin that was as much rueful acknowledgement as anything else. He was going to have to take it from the front, not the side. He rolled the spear so that the flat sides of his spear head ran parallel to the animal's ribs and would therefore slide between them rather than getting stuck against them, and shifted his grip so that he was holding it much closer to the butt end of the spear. Then he stepped forward, giving the boar a closer look at him. Again, it reared up, but this time, Dan wasn't watching the hooves hammering on the side of the pit, trying to break it down, or the stabbing tusks. He watched the dark chest, and as it reached the highest point of its lunge, he slammed his spear down into it with all the strength he could muster.
The spear slid between the ribs and deep into the chest. The boar screamed, a sound at once as shrill and bloodcurdling as that of a dying rabbit, and yet somehow almost human. Dan shoved again, harder, deeper, seeking the heart even as his feet skidded in the frosty mud, imprinting the struggle in lasting footprints. The boar's scream died to a gurgle, and it slipped back, sliding off the spear in a welter of blood, and the light in its eyes dimmed, faded, and then went out entirely.
Dan heaved a breath of relief and waited for a long moment to be sure it was dead. Boar had a reputation for taking their revenge on their hunters even as they were dying, and tusks like that could do a lot of damage (or fetch a fair bit of nel if he sold them). But there was a ton of meat there too, and Dan had no plans to waste any of it. If he couldn't get it out by himself, he thought, climbing down into the pit to cut its throat and let out the blood that could spoil the meat if left to curdle on its own, he would go back for the ponies and have them haul it out for him to process.
"Signed words" Spoken words
