Harold dragged the Rellak behind him, its bulk awkward but manageable, blood matting its fur where the stones had struck true.
His arms trembled with exertion, his lungs burned, yet his chest swelled with something he hadn't felt in a long time.
Triumph.
The cave mouth came into view.
He straightened, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.
"Dinner's here," he called, half-joking, half-proud.
Inside, Jini's head lifted from the stone slab, her slit pupils narrowing as they locked onto the carcass.
For a heartbeat, Harold expected approval—or at least relief. Instead, her expression twisted.
"You brought it back like that?"
Harold blinked. "Like what?"
"Uncleaned," she snapped.
Her tentacles twitched against the bedding, agitation in every line of her body.
"You bleed it where you kill it, get rid of the internals. You strip the hide before carrying it. Do you not know anything?"
He set the carcass down with a thud, throwing his hands up.
"Sorry, I must've missed the part in survival school where they handed out Rellak field guides. You're welcome, by the way, for not starving tonight."
Her eyes narrowed further.
"And how do you intend to prepare it? With bare hands? With stones?"
"Well…" Harold hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't exactly have a knife. Or… y'know, anything sharper than a rock."
Jini let out a sound somewhere between a hiss and a sigh, her fangs flashing as she leaned back. "Hopeless."
"Oh, come on," Harold muttered, dragging the carcass closer. "You want me to carry it back in pieces? All I've got are rocks and a bad throwing arm."
She stared at him for a long moment, her breathing shallow, then finally spoke. "Help me down."
Harold stiffened. "You're in no shape to—"
"Help. Me. Down." Her voice carried the weight of command, a tone that allowed no argument.
Reluctantly, Harold stepped forward, sliding an arm under her shoulders.
She was still lighter than he expected, though her weight still pressed heavily against his tired frame.
Her tentacles curled instinctively around his arm and shoulder, anchoring her balance as he helped her to her feet.
Her legs trembled at first, but she steadied herself with a grimace.
"To the door."
Harold guided her toward the cave entrance, careful not to rush.
She moved with slow determination, her pride refusing to let weakness show.
When they reached the threshold, she gestured toward the carcass.
"There. Bring it."
With a grunt, Harold hefted the Rellak closer.
Jini lowered herself to one knee, a flash of pain crossing her features as she extended her hand.
A blade seemed to materialize from beneath her bandages—no, not quite a blade, but a hardened, sharpened extension of her own body.
A claw, grown long and honed like steel.
"You… have knives built in," Harold muttered, half in awe, half exasperation.
"Tools," she corrected sharply.
Then she set to work.
The cave filled with the wet sounds of skinning and carving.
Jini's movements were precise despite her injuries, her claw sliding through hide and tendon with ease.
She separated strips of meat, setting them neatly on a flat stone, with a refuse pile beginning to grow of the discarded parts she didnt care for.
Feeling useless at her side, Harold turned back into the cave.
"Fine. You do the cutting. I'll… clean up."
The bed where Jini had lain was still ringed with discarded bandages, blood-stained wrappings, splints fashioned from sticks.
Harold crouched to gather them, but froze.
They were gone.
Every scrap of cloth, every piece of wood he'd used to stabilize her wounds—it had all vanished.
The floor was bare stone, not even a bloodstain left behind.
"What the hell…" he muttered, scanning the ground.
He grabbed a length of clean gauze from his system's inventory, tearing it into strips, and tossed them to the floor.
The fabric hit the stone—then shimmered faintly before dissolving into nothing, fading like smoke in sunlight.
Harold sat back hard, staring at the empty space.
"You've got to be kidding me."
"What is it?" Jini's voice drifted from the doorway.
He rubbed his temples.
"The supplies. The ones I used on you. They're gone. And… anything I summon vanishes too, if I stop using it."
"Summon?" Jini echoed, her tone sharp.
"Long story," Harold muttered.
He picked up another strip of gauze, held it in his hands, then set it down again—only to watch it wink out of existence.
He sighed, shoulders sagging.
"Guess nothing from my… 'system' sticks around. No bandages, no splints, nothing. Can't even save scraps for fire starter."
At that last word, his stomach sank further.
Firewood.
He glanced toward Jini, who had finished separating several slabs of meat, her claw slick with blood.
"So, uh… if we're gonna cook that, I need to go back out. No wood, no fire."
Her gaze lifted, sharp and unyielding.
"Then you go. Bring it back. Or else you will eat raw."
Harold swallowed hard, grimacing.
"Figures. Nothing's ever easy."
He pushed himself to his feet, exhaustion gnawing at his bones, and looked once more at the vanishing gauze in his hand before it slipped away into nothingness.
A bitter laugh escaped him.
"Great. Even my miracles have expiration dates."
And with that, Harold turned back toward the forest, the promise of firewood dragging him once more into the shadows.
The hunt for firewood and burnables would be plenty of times easier than the hunt for water previously was.
Mainly due to the fact that for basic fire starting he could just tear up the long grass all over the meadow before him, as for actual kindling and fire fuel, well there was a forest not to far away, however depending on how long the fuel lasts a single trip with an armful might not be enough to properly cook up the meat, not to mention he also felt the need to find a few suitable branches to to some form of spit roast for the poor beast being disected right now.