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Authors: Andrew Lashway
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enough wood to build a cabin, and had several ropes made from grass (an exhaustingly tedious project) in the cave. He even managed to gather enough furs and clean them to make an almost comfortable sleeping area. All he needed to do was find some way of bringing them all together and he’d almost have a bed, or a new coat. Or maybe both.
“New first thing,” Merek grunted as he arranged the different furs, “we make a needle and some thread. Then we can make a cover for the cave.”
While he wasn’t sure at all if that plan would work, he was certainly excited to find out.
He had to spend the next two days confined to his cave due to a bad storm, venturing out only when there was a brief lull to pick a mountain of berries and hide them in the cave. It was a hungry two days, but Merek was happy he wasn’t spending it out in the storm.
After the storm had passed, Merek went about trying to find something that would function as a needle and t hread. He figured grass, his go-to tool, would serve as thread, but the needle was proving to be difficult. Finally, he settled on a piece of a branch, little more than a splinter, as the needle. It wouldn’t be very pretty, but hopefully it would be sturdy enough to bind together fur.
Now all Merek had to do was teach himself how to sew. His mother had refused to even allow him to watch her, always saying he would never be good at it so why bother teaching him?
“I don’t have to be good,” Merek said as he tried over and over again, for hours that seemed to never end. “I just have to be good enough.”
All told, it took Merek exactly a week to make the cave comfortable. He brought in enough furs to make a sleeping area and a blanket, and the smell of death and decay was mostly washed out of them. He had a good fire whenever he needed to eat, and his cave was obscure enough to never be noticed.
As the days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months, Merek wasn’t just surviving. He was, if only just, thriving in the forest. He noticed there was more muscle on his bones. He could run faster, and he was far more rested than he had ever been in his whole life. He investigated every part of the forest he could in a single day, though he never followed the same path twice and still he hadn’t discovered it all. He found several roads and even discovered several villages, though he never dared get close to them.
He even managed to sew so much he put together his own shirt, pants, shoes and coat, burning the ragged pants and blood-soaked coat of his old life.
It wasn’t until he stared at the cloth burning that he realized how very freeing the moment was. It was coincidentally at that moment he finally stopped wanting to go home and try to make amends.
Merek smiled at his cave. He was home. He sat in the mouth, eating a handful of berries and reflected on how far had had come. It certainly wasn’t anything impressive, and his parents would no doubt laugh at his contentment, but still. It was his.
He was careful never to kill what he wasn’t going to eat that day. He found no pleasure in killing animals, and always considered it lucky when he found one already dead from whatever it was that killed animals other than him. His grass-thread wasn’t the best material, but it held together well enough. Perhaps it was his sewing skills that were to blame. Either way, he at least had a working set of clothes.
Merek Quinn was at peace.
Then the day came that he discovered the plains.
He was more surprised than he probably should have been to discover the wide expanse of land. The ground was saturated in some places, but dry in others, as if the ground couldn’t decide whether it wanted to be fertile or barren. But just like the huge body of water, Merek could look out for miles without seeing a break. There were dips and hills, but it was all uncharted to him. Merek half wanted to explore it, but the other half of him liked it just fine in his forest.
He turned
“New first thing,” Merek grunted as he arranged the different furs, “we make a needle and some thread. Then we can make a cover for the cave.”
While he wasn’t sure at all if that plan would work, he was certainly excited to find out.
He had to spend the next two days confined to his cave due to a bad storm, venturing out only when there was a brief lull to pick a mountain of berries and hide them in the cave. It was a hungry two days, but Merek was happy he wasn’t spending it out in the storm.
After the storm had passed, Merek went about trying to find something that would function as a needle and t hread. He figured grass, his go-to tool, would serve as thread, but the needle was proving to be difficult. Finally, he settled on a piece of a branch, little more than a splinter, as the needle. It wouldn’t be very pretty, but hopefully it would be sturdy enough to bind together fur.
Now all Merek had to do was teach himself how to sew. His mother had refused to even allow him to watch her, always saying he would never be good at it so why bother teaching him?
“I don’t have to be good,” Merek said as he tried over and over again, for hours that seemed to never end. “I just have to be good enough.”
All told, it took Merek exactly a week to make the cave comfortable. He brought in enough furs to make a sleeping area and a blanket, and the smell of death and decay was mostly washed out of them. He had a good fire whenever he needed to eat, and his cave was obscure enough to never be noticed.
As the days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months, Merek wasn’t just surviving. He was, if only just, thriving in the forest. He noticed there was more muscle on his bones. He could run faster, and he was far more rested than he had ever been in his whole life. He investigated every part of the forest he could in a single day, though he never followed the same path twice and still he hadn’t discovered it all. He found several roads and even discovered several villages, though he never dared get close to them.
He even managed to sew so much he put together his own shirt, pants, shoes and coat, burning the ragged pants and blood-soaked coat of his old life.
It wasn’t until he stared at the cloth burning that he realized how very freeing the moment was. It was coincidentally at that moment he finally stopped wanting to go home and try to make amends.
Merek smiled at his cave. He was home. He sat in the mouth, eating a handful of berries and reflected on how far had had come. It certainly wasn’t anything impressive, and his parents would no doubt laugh at his contentment, but still. It was his.
He was careful never to kill what he wasn’t going to eat that day. He found no pleasure in killing animals, and always considered it lucky when he found one already dead from whatever it was that killed animals other than him. His grass-thread wasn’t the best material, but it held together well enough. Perhaps it was his sewing skills that were to blame. Either way, he at least had a working set of clothes.
Merek Quinn was at peace.
Then the day came that he discovered the plains.
He was more surprised than he probably should have been to discover the wide expanse of land. The ground was saturated in some places, but dry in others, as if the ground couldn’t decide whether it wanted to be fertile or barren. But just like the huge body of water, Merek could look out for miles without seeing a break. There were dips and hills, but it was all uncharted to him. Merek half wanted to explore it, but the other half of him liked it just fine in his forest.
He turned
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