Two weeks had passed. The forest now whispered with harsher winds, and the morning frost served as a daily reminder that winter was closing in. However, our shelter was far more alive and prepared than it had been just a fortnight ago.
The discovery of salt had changed everything. Behind the main shelter, in a cool, sunless corner, Barun had constructed another small, windowless stone hut. This had become our first "pantry." We rubbed the meat from our hunts—venison and rabbit—with large crystals of salt and hung them from hooks in this dark room. As the salt pulled the moisture from the meat, curing it and making it firm, it also prevented decay. The peace of mind that came from not wondering what we would eat tomorrow was priceless.
However, our struggle with the clay had not yet ended in victory. "Cursed mud!" Barun roared, trying to construct a kiln-like structure. The fierce heat radiated by the Red Slime was enough to dry the clay and make it brittle, but it couldn't reach the roaring, white-hot temperatures needed to transform it into true ceramic. The vessels we made turned back into mud the moment we poured water into them. We needed a way to trap the heat, but for now, the clay sat in a gray heap in the corner of the shelter.
When I stepped outside, I heard cheerful sounds coming from the deer pen. The frail fawns we had carried in our arms two weeks ago were now standing tall, walking with steady hooves behind their mother. The sound of them suckling had become the most peaceful melody in the camp.
"Look at them," Eliz said, joining me with a bucket of fresh water. "It's as if nature is giving back what it stole from us."
Together, we walked toward the rabbit coop. The noise coming from inside was louder than usual. When we creaked the door open, we both froze. We couldn't believe our eyes.
"This... this is impossible!" Eliz whispered.
The interior of the coop was overflowing with gray and white tufts of fur. The three rabbits we had brought in two weeks ago had established a literal army. I tried to count them quickly; there were 15 rabbits in total! Twelve of them were tiny kits, twitching their noses and hopping frantically around the enclosure. I knew rabbits multiplied quickly, but seeing this explosion of life was a shock.
"I think our meat problem is officially solved," I said with a laugh.
We selected one of the largest males to cull, a difficult but necessary decision to keep the group's balance and our own survival. With Barun's help, we dressed the rabbit. We salted the meat immediately and sent it to the pantry. This time, however, we didn't discard the pelt. Eliz carefully stretched and cleaned the skin, nailing it to a board in front of the shelter.
"When this hide dries," Eliz said, running her fingers over the tightening texture, "it might become our first real winter gear—a glove, or perhaps a patch for our worn-out clothes."
As the sun set, the scent of salted meat from the pantry and the sounds of new life from the coop mingled in the air. We might not have fired the clay yet, but our table had never been fuller.
ESSENCE HAVEN
KINGDOM POPULATION: 3 (+17 Animals)