Chapter Six
Katla woke the next morning damp, cold, and miserable. The interior of her tiny hut was hazy from a low lying fog that rolled in after the rain had ended. Her fire sullenly smoldered in its damp remains as a reminder of the many tasks she needed to accomplish before it rained. Exhaustion and defeat warred with her sense of determination as she lingered in the warmth of her bed. In the end it was the grumbling of her stomach and the ache in her lower back that motivated her from the comfortable nest.
Cooking seemed beyond her mental load and instead she shoved another handful of her dwindling raspberry supply into her mouth. A couple smaller mushrooms joined in for something of substance even as she gagged at the unpleasant flavor of decay that seemed to linger with the chewy flesh of the plant. Grimacing over the lingering aftertaste she shimmied into her damp and tacky shirt. The leather was stiff in place while in others it felt gummy.
Exhausted beyond the physical need for rest, she slung her ruck sack over her shoulder before grabbing her spear and bow, and headed into the mist of early dawn. The dampness in the air added an uncomfortable chill that seemed to tangle around her limbs in a tangible embrace. Even the animals and graylings seemed reluctant to stir in the gloomy haze. The low visibility proved both a bane and a gift at once; allowing her to sneak up on deer as well as to accidentally stumble and flush her intended prey from their woodland cover.
Crouched and hidden in the waist height grass Katla took careful aim at a grazing stag along the edge of her meadow. The animal's antlers curved and spiked in graceful display. One breath, two, as the bow string kissed along her cheek. Her grip on the bow itself both firm and relaxed as her muscles remembered the skill long before her mind could recall all the particulars. One breath, then another before she released the arrow on her exhale. The thump and pained squeal of the deer gave testimony that her aim had been true. Quickly she jogged towards the fallen animal, watching as it disappeared into the purple dust leaving behind, for the first time, smears of blood along the grass, as well as the mandatory leather, meat, and this time a deer trophy.
"I guess this is important..." She grumbled to herself a she added the item to her rucksack. The leather was a welcome addition though and brought her one step closer to her ultimate goal of spare clothing. As the mist slowly cleared under the warmth of the sun Katla noticed the trees ahead changed suddenly from the thin stands of birch and beach to tall pines and fir. The ground lacked the thick grass and vegetation of the meadow as it turned to moss and spotty groups off bushes seeking the dappled sunlight.
One one bush she noticed blueberries. The purplish and plump with end of season ripeness they presented a temptation to Katla. Enough of one that she adjusted her bow before stepping into that dappled forest. Suddenly large flapping black wings covered her face, forcing her feet back into the soft grass of the meadow. Her hands raised as she tried to bat away the angry bird that continued to press and drive her back before it landed on the ground.
"You wandered into the Black Forest. This is very dangerous for someone so ill equipped. Prove your worth and slay Eikthyr before venturing within." The bird almost looked angry with his neck feathers ruffled and wings left half spread. The large silvered talons dug into the soil as if ready to spring at her again if she dared try to move past him and back into the darker forest ahead. Katla reached a hand out, palm flat in the universal sign for stop.
"Understood, no Black Forest since I am still mostly naked and alone. Thank you for the reminder oh magnanimous feathered oracle, like the breeze up my ass crack didn't already give that away." She couldn't keep the bitterness from her voice as she picked her bow up checking the poor wood for damage. A breath of relief escaped her it appeared whole and still usable. Her attention focused on the bow, waiting for the sound of Hugin leaving to look up. Silence extended between the two of them before the bird launched himself into the air with a baleful scream. "Yah, right back at you"
Carefully she worked her way backwards, tracing along the boarder of the seemingly forbidden forest for forage. As she curved down, back along the river's edge, a large stone came into her path. The glowing runes on it a beacon as she paused, mouthing through the warning painstakingly carved onto its surface, "They are born from rot and rainfall, they spring like mushrooms from the smoking soil." The softness of her voice added to the sensation of unease as she took in the message before her. "I always knew I disliked mushrooms for a reason." She sighed before turning back towards the safety of her meadow.
Movement along the tree-line caused her to freeze and watch with disbelief as a skeleton, complete with sword and shield, dashed out of the cover of pine trees to attack a deer that had wandered too close. The creature slashed and with what seemed only two strikes the doe fell to the ground before again turning into so much dust, hide, and meat. Without pausing the skeleton then ran back into the forest. Katla froze there for a moment, debating her options. The meat was right there, just begging to be collected, and that made her decision for her as she switched her bow for the spear and gave one last wary look towards the forest.
Quickly she darted over and grabbed the dropped items before running as far as her legs would take her back into the warmth of the sun and relative safety of the meadow. Panting she dropped to a walk as she worked her way through the weaving stands of trees and brush. The safety of home called to her and gratefully she spotted the smoke of her fire lazily drifting over the trees. Prudence dictated she once more store away her supplies.
Wary now of the yawning shadows Katla closed the door tightly of her little hut as the sun threatened to begin its final descent. The deer meat, hide, and other foodstuffs needed processed into meals. Carefully she worked on roasting the pieces of meat, mindful of watching them for doneness rather than turning to some other task that needed her attention. Eventually the meat was processed and ready for longer term storage in the chest she had constructed for her foodstuffs.
The wrapped pile of mushrooms was again eyed with distaste, even if the frugal survivor in her refused to throw out the potential meal. "There has to be an easier way..." Katla mused, allowing her mind to wander as she made an early bed in the warm nest of her bed. A hidden memory lingered just out of reach. A pen, she had the extra wood for it, but then how to get the hostile boars inside it? A grin took over as she remembered seeing the animals rooting at the mushrooms as their preferred forage.
A plan in place Katla went to bed early, throwing a couple more pieces of wood on the fire to carry the warmth through the night. The next few days passed in similar routine. The first part of the morning spent hunting deer, adding their trophies and hide to her increasing stockpile of supplies. The afternoons spent fiddling with her house and the roof trying to make an opening that would vent the smoke while still sheltering from the rain. In the end the result was ugly, with part of a thatched roof propped up with poles jutting just past the the sloped roofline.
Project pig pen was partially constructed. Her attention focused on setting the last of the poles so the pen would be near enough to her hut for her to care for the animals while not so near they constantly tried to attack. Her only worry became how to get them into the pen. She had tried putting out mushrooms, berries, and even a tentative attempt at throwing some cured meat. Nothing, the animals didn't so much as snuffle in the direction of the enclosure.
"Hmm, guess I will have to be the bait then.." She sighed as she leaned against the simple split log fencing. It was sturdy enough that it should contain the enraged animals so long as they weren't too agitated. With a soft sigh she grabbed her bow as a last resort before jogging back into the meadows and brush, searching for the telling snort and snuffle of a foraging boar. In the end, her only reward as the sun set was another handful of berries, some more flint, and several handfuls of feathers from birds she had managed to down.
Exhaustion won against economy that night as she barely managed to put things away before crawling into her bed. As she fell asleep the soft sound of rain pattering against the thatch roof and the merry crackle of her fire continuing undisturbed was the most satisfying sound of the evening.