DarkTechnomancer
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My Own Best Friend 17 - Well That Sucks
🕑 Added 2025-02-10 01:34:00 +0000 UTCHunting is an entirely novel experience for me, and even if it weren’t, what little I know about hunting involves tracking animals through forests and then shooting them. Something tells me that I’m not about to find a gun any time soon, so my knife will have to do.
I wish I could make traps or something, but there’s nothing down here but rocks and candles. Allison has admittedly gotten pretty creative with her weird candle construction, but there’s only so much they can do.
Though maybe I should stop thinking like that. They can do a lot more than I would have ever expected.
I don’t know how, though. There’s too much that doesn’t make sense. Why do they vaporize water and saliva, but not sweat? Why is the steam they create warm, but not hot? Why do they cook dead flesh but not burn us or scorch the rocks?
We’re missing something, I’m sure of it. But figuring that out is Allie’s job. Mine is keeping us alive long enough for her to do so.
For now, I’m keeping [Survivalist]. While I could keep the foraging skill with [The Beaten Path] the extra awareness will help a lot with tracking. I’ll switch to [Defender] when it comes time to do the actual fighting.
The stream is the obvious place to start. The one advantage to how barren these caves are is that anything alive down here has to depend on this stream—just like us. That’s why we were able to find it by following the snail’s tracks, and probably why a cold-blooded creature like the laser gecko would risk such a frigid part of the cave.
I drink as much as I can while I’m here, since I don’t know how long this is going to take. Tracking is supposed to be pretty hard, and it might take as long as days to find my mark.
Once my thirst is sated, I focus on the world around me. Recognizing my intent, my foraging skill activates, and everything gets a little sharper. The darkness recedes as my candle illuminates just a little more than it did before, and all the little disturbances in the rock seem to pop out.
Rock Snails and Laser Geckos are definitely the main residents around here, but the more I look the more certain I become that they aren’t the only residents. There are other types of tracks as well—sharp indentations in the stone floor that could be mistaken for regular divots if not for the consistency of their depth and spacing.
Something heavy, with limbs that taper off into sharp points. Absolutely nothing good comes to mind, and I make a mental note to watch for and avoid these kinds of tracks. Anything with legs hard and sharp enough to dig into solid stone like that is going to be dangerous.
“I think I’m going to try to find a gecko,” I say out loud for Allison.
“Aww, but they’re so cute, though,” she complains. “And they’ve never tried to hurt us.”
“I know, but Rock Snails are too risky,” I explain. “One lucky hit with one of their spears and we’re dead. Besides, I thought you’d be glad not to have to eat any more snail meat.”
“Yeah, I am. It’s just...I wasn’t a vegetarian or anything, but it’s a lot easier when the steak in the supermarket doesn’t require you to kill a big adorable cow.”
“You have a very strange definition of adorable,” I reply sardonically.
Allison gives me an indignant huff. “Cows are so cute, though!”
“If you say so...”
I let the conversation die there while I focus on singling out a set of gecko tracks. It’s not easy—there’s not much dust or debris around to disturb, and even with my skill helping it’s hard to identify any given disturbance.
I do manage to figure out one trick as I carefully scour the cavern around the stream for anything useful. Snails leave behind a trail of mucus when they move, which eventually dries out. The dried mucus leaves a subtle stain behind on the rock, and if I look closely enough I can identify which trails are more recent by the fact that they go over previously dried trails.
Of course, I’m not looking for snails, but with that trick I can look for gecko tracks in the most recent snail trails. It’s not perfect, after about an hour of meticulous searching I manage to single out and identify a set of tracks that seems to be the most recent gecko to pass through.
Or at least a gecko that’s passed through since the most recent snail. Close enough.
Once I’ve identified the tracks, the [Foraging] skill makes it much easier to tell them apart from the rest of the noise. I was a little worried that hunting wouldn’t fall within the domain of the skill, but I’m glad that it does. I doubt there’s much vegetation to be found in these caves.
I follow the tracks out of the cave and into the tunnels. It’s not very easy to keep track of them. It throws me off whenever they veer off to climb up onto the tunnel walls, where it’s much harder to see any signs of their passage. Sometimes I lose the trail and have to spend a few minutes trying to pick it up again, hoping that I haven’t accidentally started following a different animal entirely.
The first real snag, however, comes when the tracks lead straight up a wall and into one of the unreachable tunnels near the ceiling. I stare up at the opening with my hands on my hips, frowning.
“Well that sucks,” Allison deadpans.
“It certainly does...”
I could go back and pick another mark, but it took a long time just to find this one, and now that I think about it, any tracks I find are going to share the same problem. The Laser Geckos have much better freedom of movement thanks to their ability to climb, and the reason we’ve run into so few of them is probably because they don’t like to stay around here long.
I have to find a way up there. It’s not the same Worm Tunnel that we found before, so going around is out of the question—and also I feel my heart rate rising at just the thought of braving the chasm again.
It’s not that high. Only around ten feet or so. That’s still twice my height, but it’s definitely scalable. Not a great time to be a short girl.
“Wait, why are you still staring at it?” Allison asks nervously. “You’re not thinking of climbing that, are you?”
“I’m considering it. It’s low enough that we’d be able to get back down pretty easily, and I might be able to pull myself up if I can just grab onto the ledge.”
“And how are you going to do that?”
I stand up on my tip-toes and reach up as high as I can, getting about two-thirds of the way. I sigh.
“Okay, it might be a little tricky,” I admit. “But I think it’s worth trying, at least.”
“Just try not to get hurt.”
“Of course.”
I start by setting a few candles down to free up my hands, including one that I toss up to the ledge. Then, I check the wall. It isn’t a sheer surface, but it’s not exactly a straightforward climb, either. There aren’t any good handholds within reach and certainly nothing that I could stand on for extra height.
The cave is fairly wide here, so maybe I can get a running start and try to push off the wall that way. I’ve never done anything like this before, so I’m not sure it’s even possible, but I think I’ve seen people do things like that.
Of course, those were trained athletes, not half-starved skinny ginger girls. Also, they had shoes.
I start small, with a few gentle dry runs where I just jump up towards the wall and push back off with my foot. The rough surface isn’t exactly comfortable, but the unevenness works in my favor. If I can practice hitting the right spot, I should be able to get enough traction to convert my forward momentum into a higher jump.
“I think I can do this. I only need a few feet.”
“There’s no way you can jump that high,” Allie replies. “Not with my body. Running up walls is cartoon stuff.”
“No it’s not,” I retort. “It’s physics. Your forward momentum can give you enough traction to get a little extra height.”
I do a few more dry runs to get a feel for the best spot to plant my foot. I’m not sure how long I spend trying to get it right. It’s hard enough to track the passage of time, and unfortunately jumping at a wall is probably the most fun I’ve had all week. I slowly work my way up to jumping off the wall, taking more aggressive run ups with each attempt.
Once I’m comfortable enough with it, I go for my first real attempt.
“Here I go...”
I sprint at the wall and jump from the exact spot that I’ve gotten used to after what must have been hours of practice. Practice where I was running much slower.
I immediately realize my mistake, but it’s too late. The wall comes up too fast and I don’t have enough time to plant my foot properly. Muscle memory kicks in and I try to push off anyway, but my center of gravity is off and my foot just slips across the rough stone, tearing open the skin and leaving nothing between me and the wall.
I reflexively throw my hands up to protect my face, but it all happens too fast. I crash into the wall and a lance of pain shoots through my body. I turn my head in time to avoid a total faceplant, but my cheek still bounces painfully off the jagged rock, sending my glasses clattering to the ground.
I collapse in a tangled heap with my cloak and curl in on myself, shaking from the pain all over my body. I try to hold in my voice, but that just turns what would have been a cry of pain into a weird sort of strangled whine.
“A-are you okay?!” Allie cries.
The question makes me irrationally upset. Of course I’m not okay! She knows that! We don’t feel bodily pain directly when we’re not fronting, but we still experience it like a memory. Everything hurts. I’ve got scratches all over my body, I’m winded from the fall, and I’m pretty sure I’m lying on top of some candles.
Most of all, though, I’m embarrassed beyond belief! My face feels so hot that I wouldn’t be surprised if the cave was glowing red from my blush. I want to crawl into a hole and never be perceived again.
I don’t respond to Allison. I’d just snap at her if I did, and that wouldn’t be fair. Instead I try to control my breathing and focus on the here and now.
Glasses first. I’m dead without those.
I pick myself up shakily and start feeling around for them, squinting my eyes in an effort to derive some semblance of meaning from the fuzzy blob of color that the world has become in their absence.
To my surprise, one fuzzy blob in particular stands out a little bit, and it turns out to be them. I’m not sure if I’m lucky or if that’s my Awareness at work. Either way, I’ll take it.
“V-Vi? Hello?”
With trembling hands, I hold the frames up and inspect them as best I can. One of the arms is bent out of shape, so I gently push it back into place, being careful not to stress the metal too much. Then I replace the glasses, only to notice that one of the lenses is missing.
With a frown, I get back down on my knees and very carefully search for the missing lens.
“Violet, you’re scaring me,” Allison whines. “Please talk to me.”
It takes me a few minutes to find the missing lens, and I sigh as I pick it up and very carefully press it back into the frame.
“I’m fine,” I lie. “Just misjudged the timing.”
The lens snaps into place. With eyesight as bad as ours, the lenses are fairly thick and sturdy, so aside from a few scratches it actually came out alright. It’s just as well that we’ve got a nice practical pair rather than some of Allison’s lighter, more fashionable frames—or worse, contacts.
We’d probably already be dead if we’d woken up with contacts.
“Don’t ‘I’m fine’ me,” Allie huffs. “You’re obviously hurt.”
“Then why ask?!” I snap, regretting it immediately.
I shake my head and sigh when she doesn’t respond. It’s not her fault. I’m the one that was stupid enough to think that some five foot nothing skinny college girl could pull off a difficult maneuver like that.
I’m not cut out for this any more than Allison is. I’m no survivalist—I’m an imposter! I’ve never so much as gone camping! I’m just a nerd! I like numbers, games, and trivia. I enjoy challenges and puzzles—coming up with clever solutions to difficult problems. But not like this!
I don’t want to kill a stupid lizard any more than Allison does! I’m terrified of fighting. I’m sick of getting hurt and eating gross things. I’m tired of sleeping on cold stone floors and waking up terrified that something is going to sneak up and eat me.
We’re going to die down here. I know we are, but I’m too scared to accept it. I don’t want to die, and I don’t want Allison to get hurt.
So I’ll do what I have to do. I’ll try my best until I don’t have to pretend anymore—or until I fail badly enough that it gets us killed.
While I wait for my hands and legs to stop shaking, I check myself for injuries. I’m bleeding from a number of superficial scrapes, and my jeans are pretty badly torn at the knees now. My cheek is sore from smacking into the wall, but the scratch there is already scabbing over. Will probably bruise really bad, though.
Then I go over what I did wrong. I really did misjudge the timing, but that’s not the only thing I could improve. Miraculously, my knife stayed tucked safely in my belt—which has long since been returned to its regular spot around my waist now that my leg is mostly healed. But that could have been very bad.
The cloak also ended up being a problem. It’s kept us warm and given us a way to carry around all these candles, but it’s also heavy and cumbersome. It got in the way when I tried to jump up, and I got twisted in it when I fell.
If I try to fight wearing this, it’s going to get me killed.
“Violet, can we talk?” Allison asks meekly.
“Sure,” I sigh, puzzling over what to do about the cloak.
“I think...maybe we should try something else.”
“Like what?” I ask, removing the cloak and trying to drape it over the ledge above. “I’m open to suggestions.”
I manage to get it over the ledge, but some of the candles go flying out and it’s too bottom heavy, so it just slips off.
“I don’t know,” Allie admits. “I just don’t want to get hurt. I’m going to be feeling all those cuts and bruises too, you know.”
I purse my lips. Who does she think I’m doing this for?
“I understand,” I say, keeping my voice level. “But if it's between this and starving, a few cuts and bruises are well worth the effort. I made a mistake. I’ve learned from it. That’s what practice is for—I’ll be more careful next time.”
I spot a particularly jagged bit of rock near the edge and try to hook the cloak onto it. I lose some more candles in the process, but after a few tries the rough threads catch fairly nicely.
“You’re really going to keep trying this?!” she asks incredulously.
“I am,” I confirm. “Once I recover some strength.”
I’m still shaking, and I’m not sure how much of that is from the physical stress and how much of it is mental. I feel like such a fraud, trying to reassure her like this. I have no confidence, but I need to be strong. I can overcome this hurdle. I have to.
“If you’re sure...” she hedges nervously. “I trust you. Just be careful.”
I want to point out that she already said that. That telling me to be careful after I’ve already gotten hurt is pointless. That all she’s doing is highlighting the fact that she doesn’t trust me.
I keep it all to myself. She’s right to doubt me. I would be just as skeptical in her place. I don’t deserve her trust, but I’m grateful for it. I’ll just have to try my best to earn it retroactively.
By the time I finish gathering up all the candles I dropped, my body stops trembling and the pain of my previous failure has relaxed down to a dull ache. I carefully replace the candles in the pockets of the cloak before adding the knife as well.
I’m a little worried that the extra weight will pull it off the makeshift hook, but it manages to hold. At least something is going my way.
I take a deep breath to psych myself up. Failure is part of practice, I remind myself. I got hurt once, but it taught me the lessons I need to prevent myself from making the same mistake again.
This time, I do my practice runs at full speed, picking a spot away from the hanging cloak and using my hands to push off of the wall so that I’m not just slamming into it. It takes a few attempts to get the timing down, and it’s a lot more tiring to practice that way, but if anything I’m even more confident that it will work now.
I can get nearly a full second of hang time by holding onto the wall with my momentum. All I need to do now is transfer that momentum into an upward leap so that I can grab the ledge.
I don’t bother declaring the real attempt this time. I just go for it. I take a running start, jump at the wall, plant my foot perfectly this time, and push. The stones dig painfully into the ball of my foot, but the traction holds. I jump with everything I have. If I don’t make it this time, I’m not sure there will be a next—I’m already getting tired.
I barely make it. The tips of my fingers catch the lip of the ledge above me and strain to hold my weight. I can’t hold on like this for long, and I was too stupid to think ahead to this part. I just imagined that I’d be able to pull myself up.
I scrabble desperately against the rock wall, trying to find any sort of purchase to help lift myself up. I just barely manage to squeeze a toe into a crack long enough to adjust my grip on the ledge to be more firm, then pull.
I don’t weigh much—I’m five foot nothing and half-starved. The attributes probably help too—I remember how much even the first few points of Awareness helped finding our way around down here. I’m certain that we’d have bled to death without the extra Resilience from Allie’s class.
With my two points in Power, I slowly raise myself up, scrambling to get a leg up high enough to lift myself all the way up into the tunnel. I don’t think about how far down it is, or what would happen if I slipped and fell in such an awkward position. It’s a fight between me, the ledge, and gravity.
After what feels like minutes of struggle, I come out on top. I manage to hook my ankle up over the ledge and hoist the rest of my body up, rolling onto my back. I lay there for a moment, panting for breath and sweating from the exertion.
“Y-you did it!” Allison exclaims in disbelief. “You actually did it!”
“I—” I have to stop to catch my breath before I can properly respond. “I told—you.”
Honestly, I’m as surprised as she is. That was a lot harder than I thought it would be, and I didn’t exactly expect it to be easy. I’m a little worried about getting back down, now, but I put that thought out of my head.
I crawl over to the ledge and reach down, trying as hard as I can not to actually look over it as I fetch the cloak from where it’s hanging. It takes me a moment of feeling around to find it, and for a second I’m terrified that I accidentally knocked it down during my amateurish flailing to lift myself up. But it’s still right where I left it, so I pull it up and wrap it around myself, relishing in its comforting warmth.
Now that the adrenaline has worn off, I’m really cold from taking it off, and the sweat probably isn’t helping.
Once I’ve had a bit of time to rest and warm up, I pick myself up and start looking for the tracks again. I’ve still got a job to do, after all.
Comments
Twidash
I thought for sure #3 would pop up here. Guess it's life threatening danger not embarrassment that triggers it.
