The water was cold, almost too cold as I dipped a toe into it, but it would do the job. Carefully folding all of my clothes and placing them into the cleanest spot I could find nearby, I lowered myself bit by bit into the cold water, watching a cloud of filth and muck rising off me with every new inch slipping below the surface. By the time I was crouched down, past waist deep in the pool, my legs were accustomed to the cold and no longer shivering nearly as much.
A little bit further, and my chest and then my shoulders were below the surface, just about fitting in, the water overflowing onto the surrounding grass, I watched in some panic in case it threatened to soak through my pile of clothes as well, but they were safely uphill slightly, and I could relax, scrub myself off, releasing more clouds into the pool, and take a deep breath before ducking my whole head under and splashing water through every part of my body, finally getting it all properly washed.
I sat there for a while longer, wondering how long it would take before I had a proper warm bath to relax in. For now, though, I could just relax here, feeling better than I had in days, another productive day, a whole lot to show for it, and it was still early evening, I had plenty more time to figure more stuff out. Such as how I was going to dry myself off after my bath.
The solution, as it turned out, was to take advantage of my empty surroundings and simply walk home and settle by the fireside until I was dry. At some point I would want a bath somewhere closer to home, and regretted not placing my fire closer to the stream, but what was done was done. I had tried to move it, of course, with the worry that it might simply go away and never return, but instead nothing changed. I was stuck in this exact spot and would have to make the best of it. It was not a long walk, but it was a long way to dig with how fast that ability drained my Stamina tracker. Future problems, though, maybe tomorrow I’d suddenly develop the ability to lay plumbing and pump the water right to me.
First, I contemplated what should be an easy thing to fix, the mismatch between my lovely big, well made, permanently heating fireplace and my diet of raw plants and berries. I should be able to cook something here, make myself some proper hot meals. Putting food on a stick and holding it over the flames worked, so long as it was the right kind of food and I didn’t catch it on fire by accident again.
But, for all that I had no memory of my past before arriving here, I at least had some idea how to cook. At the most basic, even without access to a grill or oil or an oven, I could put things in a pot and heat it up. Around the shady side of my new home, I had the small collection of rainwater storage bottles sitting, mostly full up to the top. As sturdy and waterproof and fireproof as these would be, the tall, thin necked bottles were not great for actually putting food into. I needed to somehow sculpt a more reasonable proportioned container to cook. Scooping a load of dirt together, just as I had for making these containers, I tried to will it into a different shape. I hadn’t been granted any Create Container for Cooking Food In ability, or whatever it would be called, by whatever allowed me these limited skills I did benefit from, but surely it was similar enough, that I could just cause the water container to be wider and shallower…
The clay jar sprang into existence just the same as before, maybe a little bigger but entirely the same shape. Sun setting behind me, tummy grumbling as much from the constant dry root and leaf chewing as from the limited food I was getting, I started digging deeper, trying to scoop out enough good quality clay soil from the pit that was starting to form around my work area, shaping it all into what I wanted by hand. It was wonky and wobbly, definitely not quite round, thicker on one side than the other, and leaning awkwardly, but it was close enough to something I could fill with food and water and boil into a stew or a soup.
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Of course I knew enough clay that, without magic, I’d need to heat it to set into shape nice and firm. Luckily, there was a fire right nearby, so if I could set the thing in a good spot without squishing too many fingerprints into the sides.
Of course, that might take a while, I didn’t expect instant results while making things by hand, so I left it and went to see what else there was I could do around the place this evening. First on the schedule, actually collecting in some food ready for when I started cooking. Kneeling on the ground, digging the thick roots of plants out of the soil, I was grateful my skirt didn’t come down even as far as my knees, keeping it out of the dirt, though I couldn’t be entirely sure that was why Tristan had chosen this design, it was a nice feature.
The other thing I had been putting off doing for a while was back inside my new house. I had a walls and I had a roof, but the floor here was just whatever plants had been growing in the place when I set it all down, and the bed sank slightly on one side every time I sat down, as the post in that corner pressed into a large plant that was getting slowly more crushed each time. Making my way around the small room, on my hands and knees, I ripped out every last growing thing in the place and piled them all up in a pile. I wasn’t sure yet what I would do with them, but surely at some point in the coming days or weeks a compost heap would be useful, perhaps if I started growing my own garden and needed to fertilise it. For now, though, I had a bare mud floor, the loose soil brushed as flat and smooth as I could get it with my bare hands, and then stamped down firm all over. Next, I’d want something to cover that with, but not entirely sure what. If only I had some better knowledge of what I needed here. The number of new skills and abilities I could unlock by attempting things, if I only knew better what to attempt. Speaking of attempts, I went to check on my first clay pot.
Of course the thing was cracked nicely in half, one side still a little soft, the other side dried and hard, but distinctly no longer in one piece.
I sat on the bed, munching on dry, raw roots again, trying to plan what to do between each bite. For all the progress I’d made these last couple of days, it seemed I couldn’t go long without another setback, another challenge I had no idea how to overcome, and for making myself food every day, that was an important one, I needed to eat. The clay pot was only even a temporary thing, eventually I’d need metal, and surely that would be even harder to source. Did this area happen to have ore I could mine to cast my own iron utensils? Would the magic powers given to me allow me to do so with some relative ease? Eventually as well, I would need meat from hunting my own animals, and seasonings and salt and oil and who knew what else that I wasn’t even thinking of right now.
Was there a limit to the sort of decent, comfortable life I would be able to make for myself here, or would every skill and level increase build on the last until I could finally have a proper home with all the things I would need to live normally?
The thought came to me that in the past, when I had tried something and failed, I had gained points, unlocked abilities, been given the power to do the thing properly after first making my own attempt. This time, nothing of the sort had occurred at all, no notification of a new set of options available to invest points into, no change in my Experience Points score. Was it because the pot had failed completely, or was I just barred from learning to use clay at all. Was that dirt and mud at the bottom of the pit I’d dug even actual clay that could be used for non-magical purposes?
Swallowing down the last of my unappetising meal, I got up and went for a walk. I looked out around me as the darkness of late evening settled in, saw the way my large fireplace lit up the hillside all around, warm and comfortable and magically refreshing to be around. Looked at the entire wooden hut I had built for myself to live in, I paced around the site, past the stream I had changed the course of, the trees I had harvested wood from, with my own tools and bare hands, tried to silence the voice telling me I wasn’t doing good enough by seeing all the things I had achieved, but it wasn’t enough.
I returned home and started digging more, with my own hands as I couldn’t even make myself a simple tool for doing so. Somehow I would figure this out.
