Alec continued sitting outside the cave. His mind raced about the armor inside. It had been a few hours since he had seen it move, and he had checked the cave multiple times to make sure it hadn't moved again.
Alec moved and sat at the edge of the stone tile floor, watching the armor.
He threw rocks at intervals, even hitting the armor once, clanking off the dull plate armor.
Alex started to run but it still hadn't moved. He slowly placed his hand on the stone tile and saw the armor begin to stand once again. He quickly pulled his hand away and watched the armor sit back down.
After repeating this process multiple times, he was sure he had figured it out. The armor wouldn't move or attack unless he touched that tile.
The area leading to the main room was fairly spacious, and two shorter columns that had fallen made good cover.
After spending so much time watching the armor, Alec decided to move his cart and all his supplies to the entrance of the cave. He felt the air getting colder each day and began to think about what he would do when it started snowing.
After pushing the cart next to the pillars and unloading his belongings, Alec grabbed the old wood-cutting axe he had picked up from the shop and headed into the forest. His hand and side still hurt, but he had no choice but to prepare for the cold.
Alec pushed the empty cart, now only containing the axe, his sword, and a few hunting traps, until he found some smaller trees he could chop down.
He used the axe to mark a few larger trees before setting up snares to catch small game. As he set the final trap, he saw two deer walking through the forest. Alec realized he hadn't brought his bow and let out a quiet sigh as he watched them run off into the dense brush.
He began chopping down the small trees.
After a few swings, he had to stop and adjust the cloth wrapped around his wounded hand. The torn stump where his pinky finger had been began bleeding again as he reopened the wound while chopping.
Alec winced in pain.
He stepped back, breathing heavily as he looked at his bleeding hand.
Blisters and cracked skin along his fingers from repeated chopping were scattered across both hands.
Slowly he calmed his breathing and finished cutting up the trees.
After loading the cut pieces into the cart. His arms and chest trembled with exhaustion. Sweat dripped from his forehead as he placed the sword and axe on top of the woodpile.
His hand and side were both bleeding as he pushed the cart towards the cave. By the time Alec returned, his entire body trembled. He dropped down onto the hard stone floor, too exhausted to do anything else, and quickly drifted off.
When he woke, it was nighttime. The cool breeze was refreshing in the darkness.
Only the faint green flame from the armor barely lit the entrance of the cave. He turned and looked at it. The flame hadn't moved.
The eerie light made him uneasy as he tried to stand. His muscles screamed in pain. His shirt had stuck to the wound on his side again.
He gritted his teeth and pulled it away.
Blood slowly trickled down his side, and a muffled scream echoing through the cave.
Alec grabbed one of the rough fabric shirts from the supplies he had taken from the shop. Once he finally managed to stand, he let the wound dry before pulling the shirt over his head.
A chill from the cool air and approaching winter made him shiver. Still sore and tired, he grabbed several large stones. Pushing against the soreness he rolled them into the center of the cave's path, forming a rough circle. Once it was set, he gathered wood and started a fire.
His mind raced as he worked.
He thought about what he needed to survive the winter. How he would stay warm. How he would eat.
There had been a garden near the orphanage. The children used to help Miss Helen pick vegetables there. He didn't know if it had burned, but he could check.
He would also need warmer clothes if he wanted to keep trapping rabbits in the snow.
Alec didn't know how to make clothes. He didn't have a needle or thread.
He thought about the deer he had seen earlier. He could hunt them and use their hides for warmth. But he had never tanned hide before.
He sighed.
There was too much he didn't know. Too many things he had never learned. The thought made him feel small. Helpless.
He remembered seeing hunters stretch hides over racks, but he didn't know if anything else needed to be done.
It was all he had.
With no better plan, Alec decided he would return to the orphanage garden with sacks to gather whatever vegetables remained. Then he would hunt a deer and try to prepare the hide himself.
After starting the fire and eating the last of his jerky, Alec stood.
He took his usual stance.
Feet apart. Knees bent.
He began swinging the blade.
The three movements felt natural now. Comfortable. He could repeat them far longer than when he had first started. The sword sliced through the air with a soft hiss that made Alec smile.
Each improvement brought him a quiet sense of satisfaction.
He kept going.
Swing after swing.
Time passed without him noticing.
When daylight finally crept into the cave entrance, Alec lowered the sword. He grabbed a few sacks, slung the quiver over his shoulder, picked up the bow, and headed toward the orphanage.
Alec moved through the forest with slower steps than usual. The bow rested against his back and the sacks hung from his shoulder, brushing against his side with each step. The wound there pulled with each movement. Not sharp, but constant. His hand throbbed beneath the cloth wrap, the missing finger making his grip feel weird. Uneven.
He adjusted his hold on the sword as he walked.
The path toward the orphanage was still there. He hadn't come back since the night it burned.
The trees began to thin and the ground leveled out.
Alec slowed.
The remains of the orphanage came into view. Blackened beams jutted upward like broken bones. The roof had collapsed inward completely, leaving only charred walls and piles of ash-covered debris.
Alec stopped at the edge of the tree line, near where he stood that night.
He didn't move. The smell was gone. Replaced by damp earth and rot.
He stepped forward carefully. Burned planks cracked and shifted under his feet as he moved past what used to be the front entrance. He watched where he stepped, avoiding anything that looked unstable.
Nothing remained inside.
No bodies or movement.
Just ash and broken wood.
Alec didn't stay long as he turned away and walked toward the garden.
The garden sat a short distance from the building. The fence around it had burned in places but still stood in others. Sections leaned inward, warped and brittle.
Alec stepped over the broken fence and crouched.
He brushed away loose dirt with his good hand. At first, there was nothing. Just soil. Cold and dry.
Then he felt something solid.
He dug more carefully.
A potato.
Small, but firm.
Alec pulled it free and turned it in his hand before placing it into one of the sacks. He kept going, moving slowly across the garden. Some patches had nothing left. Others were ruined.
But not all.
Another potato. Then a carrot. Thin, uneven, but still usable.
He worked checking each section. By the time he finished, one sack held a small pile of potatoes and a few carrots.
Not much but enough.
Alec tied the sack closed and stood.
His eyes drifted back toward the orphanage.
He stared at it for a moment.
Then turned away.
The forest closed around him again as he moved back toward the river. The sounds returned slowly. Insects. Wind. Leaves shifting.
He checked the first trap but it was empty.
The second had a rabbit.
It struggled weakly against the snare, its leg caught tight. Alec approached without hesitation. He swung the short sword and ended it quickly. The body went still.
He reset the trap, tying the loop back into place the way Owen had shown him.
Then he tied the rabbit to the side of the sack and kept moving.
The deer were harder to track.
Their path cut through thicker brush, weaving between trees and across uneven ground. Alec moved slower now, watching for signs. Broken branches. Pressed grass. Faint impressions in the dirt.
He heard them before he saw them.
A soft rustle. Movement through leaves.
Alec crouched low.
Through the trees, two deer stood near a patch of brush. Their ears twitched. Their heads lifted slightly, alert.
Alec reached back slowly and pulled the bow free.
He nocked an arrow.
His grip felt wrong again. The missing finger made the string harder to hold steady. He adjusted, tightening his hand, forcing it into place.
He drew.
His arms trembled slightly, but he held.
He aimed.
Then released.
The arrow struck one of the deer behind the shoulder. It bolted instantly, crashing through the brush.
Alec moved chasing after it. He grabbed another arrow but didn't fire. Instead, he followed. Listening. Tracking the sound of breaking branches and heavy movement.
Then a crashing sound in the brush.
Alec slowed as he approached.
The deer lay on the ground, struggling weakly. Its legs kicked against the dirt.
Alec stepped closer and raised the sword, swiftly killing the deer.
Skinning it took time and more effort than he thought.
The hide was thick and stubborn. The knife slipped more than once in his hand, the grip uneven. He had to stop often to adjust. To breathe and steady his hands.
Blood soaked into the ground beneath the body. The smell was strong, warm and heavy.
Eventually, he managed to separate the hide. It was rough and mangled in some places but it would work.
He folded it as best he could and tied it with strips of cloth. He cut what meat he could carry and covered the rest loosely with branches and dirt, to gather later if the wolves don't take it.
The walk back was slow and the sack pulled at his shoulder. The weight of the meat and vegetables shifted with each step. The hide dragged behind him, catching on roots and rocks.
His arms ached.
His chest felt tight.
By the time the cave came into view, his legs felt unsteady.
Alec dropped the sacks near the entrance and leaned the bow against the stone.
He didn't sit down.
Instead, he started working.
The rack came together slowly. Two upright pieces of wood pressed into the ground. Cross pieces tied between them. The cloth strips tightened and retied when they slipped.
It wasn't stable but stayed together as Alec draped the hide over the frame, pulling it into shape as best he could. It sagged in places, wrinkled and uneven.
He stepped back and looked at it.
It didn't look right but he didn't know how to fix it. So he left it.
He cleaned the rabbit next. Before working on the fire. It took longer to start. The wood was damp, the flame slow to catch. Eventually, it steadied.
Alec sat near it, turning the meat carefully.
The heat slowly warming him and his cold stiff hands. His hand throbbed less.
His side still hurt with each movement.
As it got dark outside the cave, the green glow from inside the cave flickered faintly across the stone leading to the glow of his camp site. Alec sat near the fire, eating slowly. His eyes moved often.
Forest.
Cave.
Forest again.
Always watching and listening.
When he finished, he stood.
He picked up the sword.
Feet apart. Knees bent.
Diagonal.
Horizontal.
Upward.
He reset.
Again.
Again.
Again.
The blade moved smoother each day. The swings tighter. More controlled. Even with the pain and the exhaustion, the movements felt right.
The sound of the blade cutting through the air made him focus.
Alec lowered the sword. His arms shook.
He sat back against the stone near the cave entrance, breathing steady. The sword rested across his lap.
The forest had gone very quiet and only the low crackling of his fire could be heard.
Alec's eyes shifted toward the darkness beyond the edge of the cave entrance.
A low growl broke the silence.
Alec didn't move.
Another growl followed, closer than before.
He slowly reached to the side and grabbed the short spear leaning against the stone. His grip tightened as he pushed himself to his feet.
The fire crackled behind him.
The darkness ahead didn't move but something was there.
Alec raised the spear slightly, his breathing steady as his eyes locked onto the shadows at the edge of the cave entrance.