5 Ashan 519
Wealth Skill: Fieldcraft
Dan folded the tent flap back to watch the sun rise. It was a beautiful sight after the gloom of Cylus, and one that he hadn't yet grown re-accustomed to. The harshest of the cold had also broken with the change of the seasons, and while there was still some snow on the ground, he intended to see what, if any, new growth was around. It was his birth trial. Trying to make a celebration meal out of fresh food rather than the dried and preserved food that he had been surviving on had become something of a personal tradition. If he didn't find anything - well, he could always fall back on the remaining dried meat for his meal.
He dressed warmly, banked the fire in the tiny brazier, and gathered his bow, his hunting gear, and a bag to store finds in. Then he walked out into the softening snow. His first destination were the snares he had set up for small game, what little of it was out in the snow. He also kept his eyes open for chances as he walked, winding in and out of the edge of the forest. The first spikes of green leaf were already thrusting up in the sheltered areas where the trees had kept off the snow and he made a mental note to check them out after the traps in case any of them were edible. The snow underfoot was too soft to creak or crunch. Instead it sank away under his step and clung damply to his boots.
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. 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, as he wasn't as experienced with land traps as he was with fish traps, but eventually he was finished and could move on, his gaze taking everything in as he went. A spray of bright colour snagged at the corner of his vision, red against the browns and whites and dull greens of the forest, and he turned to check it more closely.
A curve of thorny dog-rose arched out of its bush with a few of last year's rosehips clinging to it. Dan's eyes widened in delight and a grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. Rosehips could survive the snows and still be edible, he knew, but almost always the birds had eaten them by this point. He scurried over to the bush and sniffed cautiously. It smelt fine, so he wrapped his fingers around one in almost a caress, and picked it off its thorny branch. It was frost-softened, but rosehips could convert some of their sugar into alcohol to stop themselves freezing, so it was still fit to eat. He took it as a birth-trial treat from the forest, picked the rest of the spray, and signed his thank yous to the trees at large. A random breeze dipped the thinner branches towards him as if returning the thanks and he ducked his head in acknowledgement.
He wrapped the rosehips in a ragged scrap of cloth and tucked the resulting packet into his bag for safekeeping. Once the rosehips were safe, he set off again towards the little spikes of green, trying to move within the forest as part of the wilderness rather than an intruder. He rolled his feet smoothly against the ground, rather than simply slapping them down from the heel and potentially cracking every twig they hit, and kept his gaze moving and alert to all directions.
The green spikes turned out to be wild leeks taking frantic advantage of the scant window of time between the sun's return and the trees leafing enough to block the sun out to get their own growing and flowering done. Dan crouched beside them, eyeing the size of the patch in an attempt to judge how many it would be safe to take before the patch was damaged past sustainability. In the end he pulled two plants, choosing ones that were crowded up against another one so that the one left behind had more room and light to flourish in.
Some of the pines were also putting out new green needles. Dan browsed through them, taking a new pine needle here and another there. Early pine needles made a wonderful tea, especially after the bare survival of Cylus, and it would be yet another treat. He wrapped the gathered needles in yet another scrap of cloth, tucked them into his back and meandered slowly back to his camp.
The willow trees around his tent weren't even close to putting out leaves yet, but their slender branches glowed a glorious shade of orange from the rising sap inside. If he had found a birch tree, or a maple tree, he could have tapped it for a bit of sweet sap, but he hadn't, so the rosehips would have to do for fulfilling his craving for sweetness.
He perched outside to clean the rabbit rather than get blood and stink all over the inside of the tent. Smoke jittered nervously at the blood-scent, and he absently made soothing noises at her as he worked. Rabbits were easier to skin than deer. All he had to do was cut along the belly and round the paws and he could just pull it off. He set the skin aside, and removed the organs from inside the body. He sorted them out, tucked the edible organs back in, and buried the rest a short distance from his camp. He saved the brains to cure the fur with, cut the rabbit apart at the joints, and put the meat into a pot with some water. He chopped the wild leeks into the pot and hung the whole lot over the brazier to cook down into a thick soup or thin stew.
He took out the rosehips, split each one in half, and removed the seeds before setting water to heat in a second, smaller pot. While it heated, he chopped the pine needles very small, and then took the rosehip seeds out into the forest to plant them and continue the food cycle. He poked holes into a clear patch of damp soil so that they would have space to grow, sprinkled the seeds inside and brushed the dirt back over them. On his way back he stopped by a stream to clean his hands of dirt and blood and refill his waterskin, and then returned to camp.
The water was bubbling nicely, and he scooped out a cupful to make his pine needle with. He dropped the deseeded rosehips into the remainder of the hot water so that they could cook down into a sweet syrupy pulp. He intended to have it for dessert in place of a birth-trial cake, and the anticipation made his mouth water. So did the savoury smells that were beginning to waft up from the stew pot.
He scooped the chopped pine needles into the cup of hot water and let them brew, releasing their tangy flavour into the water to make his tea while he checked and groomed each of the ponies in turn. Once he had brushed them and soothed them and inspected their hooves to make sure they were sound, he returned to gather up his cup of tea.
He took it to the entrance of his camp, and seated himself comfortably on a log. He cradled the warm cup in both of his hands and breathed in the wonderful smell of it, and watched the shadows shift in the returned, renewed sunlight. Behind him lay another arc, wrapped up at the last with white snow and tied with bright orange willow. Before him lay a new arc, unshaped as yet, split from the old with a meal of new foods and wafts of scent and warmth.
He lifted the cup to his lips and drank to the old and the new.
Wealth Skill: Fieldcraft
Dan folded the tent flap back to watch the sun rise. It was a beautiful sight after the gloom of Cylus, and one that he hadn't yet grown re-accustomed to. The harshest of the cold had also broken with the change of the seasons, and while there was still some snow on the ground, he intended to see what, if any, new growth was around. It was his birth trial. Trying to make a celebration meal out of fresh food rather than the dried and preserved food that he had been surviving on had become something of a personal tradition. If he didn't find anything - well, he could always fall back on the remaining dried meat for his meal.
He dressed warmly, banked the fire in the tiny brazier, and gathered his bow, his hunting gear, and a bag to store finds in. Then he walked out into the softening snow. His first destination were the snares he had set up for small game, what little of it was out in the snow. He also kept his eyes open for chances as he walked, winding in and out of the edge of the forest. The first spikes of green leaf were already thrusting up in the sheltered areas where the trees had kept off the snow and he made a mental note to check them out after the traps in case any of them were edible. The snow underfoot was too soft to creak or crunch. Instead it sank away under his step and clung damply to his boots.
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. 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, as he wasn't as experienced with land traps as he was with fish traps, but eventually he was finished and could move on, his gaze taking everything in as he went. A spray of bright colour snagged at the corner of his vision, red against the browns and whites and dull greens of the forest, and he turned to check it more closely.
A curve of thorny dog-rose arched out of its bush with a few of last year's rosehips clinging to it. Dan's eyes widened in delight and a grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. Rosehips could survive the snows and still be edible, he knew, but almost always the birds had eaten them by this point. He scurried over to the bush and sniffed cautiously. It smelt fine, so he wrapped his fingers around one in almost a caress, and picked it off its thorny branch. It was frost-softened, but rosehips could convert some of their sugar into alcohol to stop themselves freezing, so it was still fit to eat. He took it as a birth-trial treat from the forest, picked the rest of the spray, and signed his thank yous to the trees at large. A random breeze dipped the thinner branches towards him as if returning the thanks and he ducked his head in acknowledgement.
He wrapped the rosehips in a ragged scrap of cloth and tucked the resulting packet into his bag for safekeeping. Once the rosehips were safe, he set off again towards the little spikes of green, trying to move within the forest as part of the wilderness rather than an intruder. He rolled his feet smoothly against the ground, rather than simply slapping them down from the heel and potentially cracking every twig they hit, and kept his gaze moving and alert to all directions.
The green spikes turned out to be wild leeks taking frantic advantage of the scant window of time between the sun's return and the trees leafing enough to block the sun out to get their own growing and flowering done. Dan crouched beside them, eyeing the size of the patch in an attempt to judge how many it would be safe to take before the patch was damaged past sustainability. In the end he pulled two plants, choosing ones that were crowded up against another one so that the one left behind had more room and light to flourish in.
Some of the pines were also putting out new green needles. Dan browsed through them, taking a new pine needle here and another there. Early pine needles made a wonderful tea, especially after the bare survival of Cylus, and it would be yet another treat. He wrapped the gathered needles in yet another scrap of cloth, tucked them into his back and meandered slowly back to his camp.
The willow trees around his tent weren't even close to putting out leaves yet, but their slender branches glowed a glorious shade of orange from the rising sap inside. If he had found a birch tree, or a maple tree, he could have tapped it for a bit of sweet sap, but he hadn't, so the rosehips would have to do for fulfilling his craving for sweetness.
He perched outside to clean the rabbit rather than get blood and stink all over the inside of the tent. Smoke jittered nervously at the blood-scent, and he absently made soothing noises at her as he worked. Rabbits were easier to skin than deer. All he had to do was cut along the belly and round the paws and he could just pull it off. He set the skin aside, and removed the organs from inside the body. He sorted them out, tucked the edible organs back in, and buried the rest a short distance from his camp. He saved the brains to cure the fur with, cut the rabbit apart at the joints, and put the meat into a pot with some water. He chopped the wild leeks into the pot and hung the whole lot over the brazier to cook down into a thick soup or thin stew.
He took out the rosehips, split each one in half, and removed the seeds before setting water to heat in a second, smaller pot. While it heated, he chopped the pine needles very small, and then took the rosehip seeds out into the forest to plant them and continue the food cycle. He poked holes into a clear patch of damp soil so that they would have space to grow, sprinkled the seeds inside and brushed the dirt back over them. On his way back he stopped by a stream to clean his hands of dirt and blood and refill his waterskin, and then returned to camp.
The water was bubbling nicely, and he scooped out a cupful to make his pine needle with. He dropped the deseeded rosehips into the remainder of the hot water so that they could cook down into a sweet syrupy pulp. He intended to have it for dessert in place of a birth-trial cake, and the anticipation made his mouth water. So did the savoury smells that were beginning to waft up from the stew pot.
He scooped the chopped pine needles into the cup of hot water and let them brew, releasing their tangy flavour into the water to make his tea while he checked and groomed each of the ponies in turn. Once he had brushed them and soothed them and inspected their hooves to make sure they were sound, he returned to gather up his cup of tea.
He took it to the entrance of his camp, and seated himself comfortably on a log. He cradled the warm cup in both of his hands and breathed in the wonderful smell of it, and watched the shadows shift in the returned, renewed sunlight. Behind him lay another arc, wrapped up at the last with white snow and tied with bright orange willow. Before him lay a new arc, unshaped as yet, split from the old with a meal of new foods and wafts of scent and warmth.
He lifted the cup to his lips and drank to the old and the new.
