Chapter 9: 8. The Climb

Looking up at the cliff above my shelter, I can see more vegetation and decide to explore the higher grounds on a whim. Walking to the other side of the pond, I take the less cliffy approach to my destination.

A few steps into the hike and I'm gasping for breath. I take a few more steps, pause for a breather, take a few more steps and gasp for air. Steeper than I anticipated, I have to persuade my legs to take step after step.

Luckily the vegetation covering the hill provides enough stability to the soil that I never lose my footing. I'm actually not sure if my overworking heart would put up with any slip-ups. Creeping up the hill, I've only got about a third left to go. Turning back and reaching the top another day is the current theme in my mind.

Pride no longer intact, I conquer the hundred-yard hike to the top of the cliff. I'm bent over, begging my lungs to do their job better. I'm still unsure why exploring this perched-up woodland was essential. Only when my heart calms, and my wheezing subsides do I get a chance to look up.

Bursting with life, the greenery up here is overwhelming. Trees and vegetation densely fill the hillside, obstructing my path toward the cliff. It takes a lot of work to get through the thick brush to the waterfall, and I have to hack through a few spots using a bone machete. Worn out from the hiking and bushwhacking, I practically crawl the remaining few feet towards the cliff above the pond.

Standing by the waterfall, I get a good glimpse of my mountain peak. Obnoxiously, it is nothing noteworthy. Completely dwarfed by a massive mountain behind it, whose peak is lost in the clouds, my mountain seems insignificant.

Even though I'm not particularly interested in learning about my past, finding other people has been a distant goal of mine. Finding civilization was the main reason I used the peak as my destination. It was a stretch, sure, but maybe scaling this mountain would help me find others. If nothing else, it could give direction.

Unknowingly, that is probably the reason why I wanted to hike. The cliff obscured my mountain peak, and I wanted to better understand what was ahead of me.

Seeing my mountain being towered over by the mountain in the background was, for lack of better words, more than I expected. I'm unsure if I am glad my distant goal has become more distant or a bit discouraged by the mountains before me. For now, I am not willing to divest the thought power needed to find a solid position on my feelings.

Maybe I can let myself be a little bit of both.

I let that thought transition me back into my task of observing. Flowing in a winding path, the stream, hounded by greenery on all sides, wraps around several smaller hills running its course down the mountain.

As small as my mountain is, the base seems to stretch. Turns out I will have a good hike ahead. Not only do I have a ways to go to reach the peak of my mountain, but my mountain also isn't even a significant peak amongst its mountain peers.

"Freaking mountains," I audibly curse, making sure the mountain peaks, their deceptive nature, and their steep inclines all feel the wrath of my disdain.

On top of my mixed emotions, this upper camp area offers little benefit to my current needs. It wouldn't be easy to find food in the thick foliage. Fighting the forest as I forage is not something I want to do.

Lifting my fist and shaking it, I curse the deceptive peaks one more time. It's good to be thorough regarding these types of things.

Letting the upper hills get the better of me, I turn around and turn my victorious pre-climb into a brave retreat. It takes all my balance and coordination to keep myself on my feet as I let gravity pull me quickly down the hill. Ungracefully I make a speedy retreat.

On my way back to camp, I hear twigs breaking and movement toward the east. Pausing in my tracks, I listen carefully for the intruder to make its presence known. A few seconds later, I can see Bones walking beside the stream through the clearing. He appears to be dragging a log raft behind him.

Walking towards my minion, I meet him as he comes out of the clearing of the trees. He is dragging a makeshift wooden raft he created using my cord and some larger unprocessed wood from my burn pile. Surprisingly on the raft, he has the very fire we left at camp, including the rocks placed around it. Not only that, my pot of soup is still cooking, and roasting over the fire is what appears to be a raccoon.

Looking at Bones, I see he has adorned the coon pelt upon his head, confirming that he is indeed roasting a raccoon. Bones sees the shock on my face at his successful quest completion and gives the biggest victory grinless grin yet. Adding to his celebration, he actually flexes his right arm, pumping his fist in the process.

I don't even care about his excessive celebration. I was not looking forward to my foraged meal. More meat is a welcomed treat, and I make sure to let Bones revel in his victory without my interruption. My minion has more than earned it.

We head back to the cave and drop off the fire, placing it just past the cave entrance. I take a few bites out of the roasting meat, savoring its deliciousness and increasing my growing appetite. I want to question Bones on how he captured the raccoon. Upsettingly he isn't able to communicate back to me.

Communication was the whole inspiration for Bones' creation. Still, I am satisfied that he has ultimately failed his entire purpose of existence.

Bones begins to take apart the raft, neatly stacking the wood on the shore to dry and coiling the cord while I start making meal preparation. Since I already have soup cooking and meat roasting, I have a moment to spend on creating seasoning.

Taking the onion bulbs, I finely dice them up and then place them near the fire to quicken their drying process. When thoroughly dried, I will mash the diced onions into a fine powder. Unfortunately, the seasoning won't be ready for tonight's meal.

I do the same thing with pine needles and oxalis leaves, mixing the two finely chopped greens together. Hopefully, once they dry, I will have a nice acidic seasoning to go with the onion powder.

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Working on the two seasonings gets me thinking of more flavors that I could possibly bottle. An image comes to my mind centered on the hickory trees present in these woods.

Rushing out of the den, I find the nearest hickory tree and cut off one of its exposed roots. It takes a few whacks from a bone ax and digging before I harvest the root successfully.

Before returning to the den, I stop by the stream and collect a large pot of water.

Once back in my den, I begin cutting the hickory root into as small chunks as I can manage. The small pieces of root are placed in my new bowl of water on the fire, and I make a mental note to remove the roots before the water thickens later in the night.

After the water boils down, I will be left with black salt. My mouth waters as I think of my perfectly seasoned meals in the near future.

I finish my food tasks just as night begins to fall. Now I am looking forward to resting and eating by my fire.

Having long ago taken apart his raft, Bones has gathered enough wood to last a couple of days and has piled it surprisingly neat by the fire. He has repeatedly proved that my previous assessment of him being simple was way off.

There is much more to this manifestation of my death mana, and I plan to make the most of it. The potential of what Bones can be gets me excited thinking about it. I almost get lost in the vast possibilities.

At the moment, however, surviving is my priority, and with that thought, I get pulled back into reality. Bones is already working on the next task he has assigned himself while I think of what I need to do next.

I can feel the toll of the day catching up to me. Lack of water, food and constantly being on the go heavily weighs on my tired body. Keeping my mind occupied worked wonders to properly neglect needs and creeping thoughts of despair.

The problem is the needs never go away, and thoughts will find the center of attention. One way or another, they come back and are usually greedier than ever, demanding more attention. I can feel all those needs now as my mind and body hunger for more.

Hunger pains being as aggressive as they are, I no longer can keep them at bay. Not that I was purposefully neglecting my hunger, there were just other things to be done. Cutting off several chunks of roasted meat, I rip them apart and add them to my large bowl of soup.

Before I sit down, I take a trip outside. Under the waterfall, I wash my greasy hands, fill a large cup full of water and then return to my fire.

Lost in the warmth of its blaze, I watch as flames dance to a song only they know. The hypnotic rhythm takes away all my distant thoughts and worries. For the moment, I'm calm. Life as I know it is perfect. All the hunger and need I was feeling earlier has dissipated. There must be natural magic to a campfire.

I am caught up in the brilliance of it as I eat the chunky, meaty flavor-rich soup and sip refreshing water.

Raccoon never tasted so good. Each bite is full of smokey flavor enhanced by the soup broth. Even though it is a little tough to chew, I discover that I particularly like the charred bits of meat the most.

The delicious flavors of charred meat combined with the tender bitterweeds and mushrooms have me wolfing down my soup faster than I intended, burning my mouth in the process. And just like that, I ruined the perfect end to the perfect day.

Cursing myself for sloppiness, I replenish the soup pot with water, forest weeds, mushrooms, and the remaining bits of the raccoon meat.

Bones enters the cave right when I finish my meal with the last haul of pine leaves. The final task I had given him—and by that, I mean he assigned himself the job, and I allowed it—was to gather pine leaves and grasses and bring them into the cave. Working nonstop since he was given the order, Bones has nearly filled half the shelter with what will now be bedding.

"Bones, you beautiful pile of bones. Thank you." I let my sincere gratitude towards my minion fall on his silent ears.

In response, he nods his head in a cool, nonchalant manner and walks out of the cave.

Not letting his hard work go to waste, I begin organizing the leaves and grasses. I want my bed to be comfortable and provide the most insulation between me and the cold ground.

Laying the leaves in an organized manner turns the once half-full cave pile into a much less impressive pile. The pile is even less impressive when I lay down and compact the bedding further.

Seduced by the comfort of my new dwelling, I cozy up in bed, approve whatever tasks my minion has given himself, and drift off to sleep.

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