Leo sat cross-legged outside the cave entrance, rubbing his sore arms. He had spent the last hour collecting dry sticks, dead twigs, and pieces of bark—all the makings of a fire.
His fingers shook over the small pile of wood he had collected on a flat rock. He had no lighter, no flint, no matches. Only his mind and what he could scrounge.
He opened God's Eye, directing it at a small branch.
[Drywood – Extremely flammable. Ignites quickly but doesn't last long.]
That did the job. He attacked the next object—a dark, knobby stone he'd found along the river.
[Ironstone – Hard mineral with metallic residues. Can produce sparks if struck properly.]
Leo grinned to himself, a small curl of a smile on his lips. That was exactly what he needed.
Seizing another rock with a rougher surface, he began to tap the Ironstone against it. Nothing but flat thuds came in the first couple of tries. Then, there was a faint spark that flickered.
His heart was racing.
Once. And once. Finally, a small ember dropped into the bark shavings.
Leo encircled it with his hands, exhaling gently until it ignited and was a tiny flame. The heat and light lit the cave, pushing the cold and darkness back.
For the first time since he was separated from his classmates, he let out a sigh of relief.
I finally have fire.
With the fire lit, Leo moved on to his next problem—a weapon.
The rusty knife was gone, swallowed up by the strange mirror, and he wasn't going to fight or huntq bare-fisted. He needed something tough enough to slice through meat but simple enough that he could craft with what little he had.
His gaze fell on a long, tough branch he had collected earlier. He pulled it closer and activated God's Eye.
[Ironbark Branch – Hard, durable. Perfect for crafting simple weapons.]
Perfect.
Leo placed the branch between his knees, then grasped a rock with an edged side. Using slow, deliberate strokes, he whittled one end into a pointed shape. It was tedious work, but his determination paid off.
When he finished, he had a primitive spear—not perfect, but serviceable.
He swung it in his hands, curling his fingers around the shaft tightly. This will do to hunt small game.
He just had to find something to work towards.
Leo entered the forest, spear at the ready. Sunlight struggled through the canopy, casting moving shadows on the ground. His ears were sensitive, picking up movement.
Back home, he'd never gone hunting, but he'd heard about patterns. Animals had patterns. They needed food, water, and shelter.
And the river was a convenient meeting point.
Gliding silently across the underbrush, Leo studied the earth for signs of wildlife—tracks, waste, disturbed leaves. He sank into a crouch next to a patch of damp earth and squinted.
Fresh prints. Light, airy. A deer? No. too light.
He followed the trail further into the woods.
Then he caught sight of it.
A hare, nibbling on a tuft of wild greens.
Leo dug his fingers tighter into his spear. His heart was pounding in his ears. This was it.
He crept low, picking each step an inch at a time, not wanting to snap one twig. One swift strike—that was all he required.
He balanced the spear. Breathe. Concentrate.
Then, he threw it.
The spear pierced the hare's side, pinning it to the ground before it could react. It struggled for a couple of seconds before its body became rigid.
Leo breathed out, the tension seeping from his muscles.
I did it.
I actually went hunting.
Leo cleaned and skinned the hare using a sharp stone in the cave, carefully laboring to separate the meat from the bones. It was an unpleasant, grisly job, but he could not afford to waste anything.
He placed the meat on a broad rock near the fire, letting it cook low over the flames. The smoky, rich scent filled the air, his stomach growling.
For the first time in days, he had real food.
With each bite, the heat spreading through his body, he finally felt an ounce of security.
He had fire.
He had a weapon.
He had food.
He was no longer just surviving.
He was adapting.
And he would prosper soon.