Before dawn broke, Clara was already up.
She boiled a full pot of water, stored it in a bamboo tube, and steamed ten taro roots, each about the size of a child's fist. After packing them into a satchel woven from grass rope, she began preparing the rest of her gear.
She poured out more than half the salt from the jar and filled a small bamboo tube with it. The firestarter was tucked into her coat pocket.
A ten-meter-long coil of rope was tied to her side, a bow and arrows slung across her back. She rewrapped the short knife's hilt with torn cloth strips, held the blade in one hand, and carried her water and food in the other. With a quick sweep, she extinguished the fire in the stove.
With everything ready, and the sky just beginning to lighten in the east, Clara set off toward the towering mountain range in the north.
Just as she left, the side room's door creaked open quietly.
Adam and Ben led their younger siblings out and watched the gray figure slowly disappear into the thick morning mist. They wanted to chase after her but forced themselves to hold back.
Last night, Clara had told them she would be heading deep into the mountains to hunt. It might take three to five days, maybe even seven or eight. They were to look after themselves while she was gone—and when she returned, there would be meat to eat.
Leo and Lila, still too young to grasp the situation, were simply excited at the mention of meat and didn't think further.
But Adam understood more. Hunting wasn't something just anyone could do. The deep mountains were layered and treacherous, filled with wild and dangerous beasts. Every winter, the village strictly forbade children from venturing out, for starving beasts often descended the mountains to prey on humans.
Literally prey on them. Just last winter, a girl from a family that lived on the edge of the village had been dragged off by wolves. All they found were a few fragments of bone.
During the short time they'd spent together, Adam had sensed that Clara was stronger than most, decisive and commanding.
But even so… could she handle a wild beast?
Truthfully, what troubled Adam more was a darker thought buried deep inside him.
He couldn't shake the feeling that Clara was using hunting as an excuse to abandon the four of them—leave the burdens behind and disappear.
But when he saw the hopeful looks on his siblings' faces, he couldn't bring himself to say it aloud.
Maybe… he was just overthinking.
At Clara's request, Brandon and Caleb came at daybreak, dragging along a very reluctant Logan Liew. They picked up the remaining wheat seeds and, shouldering their hoes, headed out to the fields.
Meanwhile, Clara had already reached the outer edge of the northern mountains.
She first found a sunlit spot, sat down for a drink and a small bite to eat, then rested briefly before heading deeper into the forest.
Hunting was a game of luck. On a good day, you came back loaded. On a bad day, it wasn't strange to return empty-handed.
But for a seasoned hunter, tracking signs of animals was fundamental.
Few people dared enter this mountain range. If anyone did, it was only around the outskirts. The deeper parts had no paths. Clara had to forge one herself.
She didn't bother hiding her presence—her goal was clear: find a base of operations.
Once in the forest, Clara was in her element. The environment reminded her of the mutated jungles from the apocalypse, and her instincts kicked in immediately.
Birds and small creatures darted past her as she walked. She sheathed her knife at her waist and pulled out her bow and arrows.
When another bird, startled, flew overhead, Clara drew an arrow and let it fly with a sharp whoosh!
A shrill screech rang out, and a blur of gray tumbled through the treetops and crashed into the underbrush.
Clara pushed aside shoulder-high wild grass and rushed toward the fallen creature. A plump gray bird, its wing pierced by an arrow, was flapping helplessly among the dead leaves.
"Still need to work on my aim," Clara muttered as she pulled the arrow out. She tied the bird's wings together and fastened it to her belt before continuing on.
Along the way, she used every bird or beast she encountered to reacquaint herself with the rhythm of hunting. By sundown, her waist was hanging full of half-dead small creatures.
Wild pheasants, birds, squirrels… and a whole nest of rabbits.
The rabbits were a happy accident. She'd been chasing a squirrel up a tree when a rabbit suddenly poked its head out of a nearby mound. How could Clara possibly let a gift like that go?
With lightning speed, she found a few rabbit holes, sealed all but one with stones, then lit a pile of damp leaves. Thick smoke filled the air. One by one, seven rabbits came bounding out—only to be captured alive.
The rabbits were all plump, clearly from the same family. Two adults and five young ones, their glossy gray fur practically shimmered.
Clara didn't care for rabbit meat, but she loved rabbit fur. It made excellent gloves, scarves, and winter clothing.
Because she was now carrying a bundle of live rabbits, Clara looked for a sheltered hollow nearby to camp for the night.
She'd already eaten the taro, and only a third of her water remained. Luckily, water trickled from the stone wall of the hollow. Clara used a stick to dig a small pit and waited as the water pooled into a little basin.
Night had fallen. She lit a fire and roasted the exhausted bird she'd caught earlier.
She'd burned a lot of energy today, and one bird wasn't enough. She roasted a pheasant too.
The meat sizzled with fat, its aroma rich and tempting. It had been ages since she'd had fresh meat—Clara devoured both birds ravenously, leaving nothing behind.
After eating, she added more wood to the fire and lay down to rest. She needed to conserve energy.
The mountain's day-night temperature swing was harsh. Clara covered herself in dry leaves to keep warm and stay hidden from large nocturnal predators.
Nighttime was a disadvantage for humans without night vision. Best to avoid unnecessary conflict.
The mountains weren't quiet. Sounds of wild beasts echoed now and then—sometimes far, sometimes too close for comfort. Clara remained on high alert, waking every so often on instinct.
In the middle of the night, a light rain began to fall.
The fire sputtered out. A gust of cold wind made Clara shiver and sit bolt upright.
The seven live rabbits, tied together by their legs, grew agitated in the rain. Clara worried the noise would attract predators.
She had no choice but to kill them. With swift hands, she snapped their necks—quick and clean, to preserve their fur.
Whether the meat would still be good, she didn't care.
With the rabbits dealt with, the rain intensified. The hollow no longer offered enough protection.
Rainy nights meant fewer predators, so Clara braved the downpour in search of a cave.
Finally, just as dawn broke, she stumbled upon a natural cave hidden under thick brush.
Soaked to the bone, exhausted and cold, Clara didn't dare rest. She left the dead rabbits and her gear in the cave and quickly went back out to collect drier branches from beneath the leaves.
Back inside, she managed to build a fire.
The warmth returned slowly to her chilled body, and only then did Clara take time to examine her new shelter.
It was a naturally formed cave with a narrow, low entrance—requiring her to stoop to enter. Well hidden. She'd almost missed it if not for a strange shift in the wind.
Inside, the cave wasn't large—five or six square meters at most—but it had decent height, just enough to stand upright.
More importantly, there were no signs of animal droppings. It wasn't a den.
Cramped as it was, it was otherwise a perfect base. Clara decided she'd stay here for the next few days.
Once she dried her clothes and hair by the fire, she camouflaged the entrance and finally allowed herself some rest.
(End of Chapter)