50 Ymiden 721, evening
Dan looked up from cleaning his saddle when one of the settlers sat down opposite him and started signing away. Cautious probing had already informed him that the wooden saddle tree, that formed the frame of the saddle and made it the shape it was, was thankfully undamaged by the strain of Cloud's frantic dash across the ground, so now Dan was methodically rubbing saddle soap into every layer and crevice of the leather that covered the saddle. Doing so also gave him a chance to check for general wear and tear so that, hopefully, he could catch it before something actually broke.
She said, "You know this area well, right?" He nodded, both of his hands being occupied at that moment, and she went on, firing questions at him at top speed. She asked what animals lived here, what they ate, what he caught for food, and so on.
Dan finished rubbing the saddle soap in and switched to a clean rag to rub the residue off and dry the saddle. That allowed him to answer some of the questions, listing some of the more common animals and birds and what he knew of their diets (which was mostly a case of 'plants', 'bugs', or 'meat-eater'), that he mostly caught fish and rabbits when he wanted protein and/or something to dry and smoke for cold cylcle stores, but sometimes he took down something larger like a boar or a deer.
Finally, when she started on more personal questions, he cut her off with a cautious smile and a wave of his hand. "Tomorrow," he offered her. "I can take you out, see what we can find. If you like? And if it won't get in the way of other things?"
Her face lit up at the thought of more learning and Dan was reminded of himself as a youngster, of the way he had devoured every lesson he was offered and longed for more. His smile softened a bit at the memory. "Ok, then, we'll do that. Wear practical clothes and bring a container to put whatever we find in. And get some sleep, we'll start early in the morning." That at least sent her off before he could delve into his less than enjoyable childhood at the orphanage. Not that there hadn't been any bright spots, but.... He shook his head and made a final swipe of the cloth before packing everything away again.
51 Ymiden 721, early morning
Dan waited at the bottom of the slope for Emily, his companion of the trial, to join him. He was on foot, in thin trousers, a sleeveless vest, and patched shoes, with his gathering bag slung over his back and his spear propped against his shoulder. The spear was habit as much as necessity - he ran on a practice of never leaving camp without a weapon. When she turned up with a basket on her arm and a knife on her belt, he nodded a greeting and turned to the wilder lands around Eureka.
"What are we after?" Emily wanted to know. "Rabbits? Fish? Something bigger?"
"Plants," Dan replied shortly. "We'll start at the river and work back." He spotted a willow tree hunched over the river that he could use as a landmark, got his bearings and set off.
Emily kept pace beside him, staying where he could see what she was signing. "Why plants?"
"Plants don't run away," Dan pointed out, and managed to hold a solumn face until she cracked into a grin at the thought they might. Then he grinned too. "Besides, if you try to live on nothing but rabbit, you get sick. The point of fieldcraft - my kind of it anyway - is to survive. That means having enough food, and food that won't make you sick or cost more energy to chase down than you get back by eating it. Most of the time that means plants."
"What do you mean by your kind of fieldcraft?"
Dan hesitated. He'd never really shaped it from a feeling in his head into actual words he could communicate before, and he wasn't entirely sure that he could. "I- It's-" He hummed neutrally. "I don't carve myself a place in nature," he signed haltingly at last. "I'm just a part of it. Or it's a part of me. There's so much of it, and I'm so small, and it doesn't care - not in a hating way, but, just... it's on a scale where it doesn't matter if I live or I die, but it's going to treat me like everything else out here. I like that." There was more - nature didn't expect him to be something he wasn't, didn't make allowances for the 'poor child who can't talk', didn't pressure him into things (other than say, getting hungry, or getting thirsty, which would have happened anywhere). They reached the river at that point though, which gave him something to talk about other than himself, and he ducked under the screen of thin willow branches into the shade offered by the tree.
Emily didn't look particularly comfortable with his answer, as she followed him under the willow. "Fine, but why start with the river when it's furthest away?"
"Because it's the furthest away," Dan half repeated, his gaze flickering up and down this patch of river bank, taking in everything that it offered. There was a stand of cattails a few paces further along, where the water eddied against the back. Not the largest he'd seen, but usable. Watercress showed its brighter green not quite so far away, and there were spikes of wild garlic poking up too. "And because sometimes, a stream or a river can offer you everything you need, at least if there's just you. You've got water to drink." He knelt and filled his waterskin. "Shelter from the sun." He patted the trunk of the tree. "All the makings of a meal. Protein, and starch, and greens for flavour." He pointed down at the fish nosing among the tree roots, then out at the cattail for starch, and the watercress and garlic. "Also, as you gather stuff, your load gets heavier. This way, you have to carry the heaviest load for the shortest distance."
"Greens?" Emily asked, looking straight past them.
Dandelion tried not to roll his eyes too obviously, and stepped out of the shade to point them out.
Emily trailed after him. "Do you think they'd grow in a garden, where they would be easier to find?"
Mm. Dan thought about it. "The garlic might. It grows pretty near anywhere, but the watercress needs to be in water, and a lot of the other plants I eat are called weeds."
"If it's useful, it isn't a weed." Emily bent to pull up some watercress, and her foot slipped. She landed on one of the garlic stems, sending a pungent smell into the air.
Dan couldn't quite suppress a smile that was as much nerves as humour. He wasn't used to teaching, or to gathering with others. He hoped she wasn't expecting too much from him. So much of what he knew about living in the wild was ingrained, almost instinctive, and not something he really knew how to explain to anyone else. It was a kiss of wind on his cheek promising colder weather, it was - yes - the scent of a bruised leaf, and sound of plucking them from the plant, and the taste of hot soup at the end of a long day. It wasn't like a book at all.
He stooped and pulled Emily back to her feet, then pulled up the bruised plant. Not worth wasting it, after all, not when it could be put to use. Emily nodded a curt thanks, stowed the watercress and garlic in her basket, then pulled out a slate and made squeaky, screechy, notes. Stowing the slate back on top of the greens, she looked at him. "Time to head back towards Eureka?"
Dan glanced around once more, then down at the fish, and cut himself a fistful of thin willow stems. It wouldn't hurt the tree - willows thrived on being cut. He would almost swear that for every stem you cut, two grew back in its place, but he hadn't actually counted. With this, he could show these people how to make and set a fish trap. But that was for later. He stowed the stems in his bag and nodded. "Time, indeed."
Continued here
The word count bug (which has been reported and is known about and unfixable) is eating almost a hundred of my words and I am very very tired of it.
"Signed words" Spoken words
Dan looked up from cleaning his saddle when one of the settlers sat down opposite him and started signing away. Cautious probing had already informed him that the wooden saddle tree, that formed the frame of the saddle and made it the shape it was, was thankfully undamaged by the strain of Cloud's frantic dash across the ground, so now Dan was methodically rubbing saddle soap into every layer and crevice of the leather that covered the saddle. Doing so also gave him a chance to check for general wear and tear so that, hopefully, he could catch it before something actually broke.
She said, "You know this area well, right?" He nodded, both of his hands being occupied at that moment, and she went on, firing questions at him at top speed. She asked what animals lived here, what they ate, what he caught for food, and so on.
Dan finished rubbing the saddle soap in and switched to a clean rag to rub the residue off and dry the saddle. That allowed him to answer some of the questions, listing some of the more common animals and birds and what he knew of their diets (which was mostly a case of 'plants', 'bugs', or 'meat-eater'), that he mostly caught fish and rabbits when he wanted protein and/or something to dry and smoke for cold cylcle stores, but sometimes he took down something larger like a boar or a deer.
Finally, when she started on more personal questions, he cut her off with a cautious smile and a wave of his hand. "Tomorrow," he offered her. "I can take you out, see what we can find. If you like? And if it won't get in the way of other things?"
Her face lit up at the thought of more learning and Dan was reminded of himself as a youngster, of the way he had devoured every lesson he was offered and longed for more. His smile softened a bit at the memory. "Ok, then, we'll do that. Wear practical clothes and bring a container to put whatever we find in. And get some sleep, we'll start early in the morning." That at least sent her off before he could delve into his less than enjoyable childhood at the orphanage. Not that there hadn't been any bright spots, but.... He shook his head and made a final swipe of the cloth before packing everything away again.
51 Ymiden 721, early morning
Dan waited at the bottom of the slope for Emily, his companion of the trial, to join him. He was on foot, in thin trousers, a sleeveless vest, and patched shoes, with his gathering bag slung over his back and his spear propped against his shoulder. The spear was habit as much as necessity - he ran on a practice of never leaving camp without a weapon. When she turned up with a basket on her arm and a knife on her belt, he nodded a greeting and turned to the wilder lands around Eureka.
"What are we after?" Emily wanted to know. "Rabbits? Fish? Something bigger?"
"Plants," Dan replied shortly. "We'll start at the river and work back." He spotted a willow tree hunched over the river that he could use as a landmark, got his bearings and set off.
Emily kept pace beside him, staying where he could see what she was signing. "Why plants?"
"Plants don't run away," Dan pointed out, and managed to hold a solumn face until she cracked into a grin at the thought they might. Then he grinned too. "Besides, if you try to live on nothing but rabbit, you get sick. The point of fieldcraft - my kind of it anyway - is to survive. That means having enough food, and food that won't make you sick or cost more energy to chase down than you get back by eating it. Most of the time that means plants."
"What do you mean by your kind of fieldcraft?"
Dan hesitated. He'd never really shaped it from a feeling in his head into actual words he could communicate before, and he wasn't entirely sure that he could. "I- It's-" He hummed neutrally. "I don't carve myself a place in nature," he signed haltingly at last. "I'm just a part of it. Or it's a part of me. There's so much of it, and I'm so small, and it doesn't care - not in a hating way, but, just... it's on a scale where it doesn't matter if I live or I die, but it's going to treat me like everything else out here. I like that." There was more - nature didn't expect him to be something he wasn't, didn't make allowances for the 'poor child who can't talk', didn't pressure him into things (other than say, getting hungry, or getting thirsty, which would have happened anywhere). They reached the river at that point though, which gave him something to talk about other than himself, and he ducked under the screen of thin willow branches into the shade offered by the tree.
Emily didn't look particularly comfortable with his answer, as she followed him under the willow. "Fine, but why start with the river when it's furthest away?"
"Because it's the furthest away," Dan half repeated, his gaze flickering up and down this patch of river bank, taking in everything that it offered. There was a stand of cattails a few paces further along, where the water eddied against the back. Not the largest he'd seen, but usable. Watercress showed its brighter green not quite so far away, and there were spikes of wild garlic poking up too. "And because sometimes, a stream or a river can offer you everything you need, at least if there's just you. You've got water to drink." He knelt and filled his waterskin. "Shelter from the sun." He patted the trunk of the tree. "All the makings of a meal. Protein, and starch, and greens for flavour." He pointed down at the fish nosing among the tree roots, then out at the cattail for starch, and the watercress and garlic. "Also, as you gather stuff, your load gets heavier. This way, you have to carry the heaviest load for the shortest distance."
"Greens?" Emily asked, looking straight past them.
Dandelion tried not to roll his eyes too obviously, and stepped out of the shade to point them out.
Emily trailed after him. "Do you think they'd grow in a garden, where they would be easier to find?"
Mm. Dan thought about it. "The garlic might. It grows pretty near anywhere, but the watercress needs to be in water, and a lot of the other plants I eat are called weeds."
"If it's useful, it isn't a weed." Emily bent to pull up some watercress, and her foot slipped. She landed on one of the garlic stems, sending a pungent smell into the air.
Dan couldn't quite suppress a smile that was as much nerves as humour. He wasn't used to teaching, or to gathering with others. He hoped she wasn't expecting too much from him. So much of what he knew about living in the wild was ingrained, almost instinctive, and not something he really knew how to explain to anyone else. It was a kiss of wind on his cheek promising colder weather, it was - yes - the scent of a bruised leaf, and sound of plucking them from the plant, and the taste of hot soup at the end of a long day. It wasn't like a book at all.
He stooped and pulled Emily back to her feet, then pulled up the bruised plant. Not worth wasting it, after all, not when it could be put to use. Emily nodded a curt thanks, stowed the watercress and garlic in her basket, then pulled out a slate and made squeaky, screechy, notes. Stowing the slate back on top of the greens, she looked at him. "Time to head back towards Eureka?"
Dan glanced around once more, then down at the fish, and cut himself a fistful of thin willow stems. It wouldn't hurt the tree - willows thrived on being cut. He would almost swear that for every stem you cut, two grew back in its place, but he hadn't actually counted. With this, he could show these people how to make and set a fish trap. But that was for later. He stowed the stems in his bag and nodded. "Time, indeed."
Continued here
The word count bug (which has been reported and is known about and unfixable) is eating almost a hundred of my words and I am very very tired of it.
"Signed words" Spoken words
