The cool water soothed his tired muscles, washing away the grime and sweat of yesterday's training. He waded in, dunking his head under, and let out a deep breath, watching the bubbles rise to the surface.
As he floated on his back, he caught movement from the corner of his eye. On the riverbank, sitting with that same unblinking stare, was the jungle cat.
Evan blinked at it. "Oh, so you really are following me now, huh?"
The cat didn't react, only stared with its unblinking golden eyes, tail flicking lazily behind it. Well, at least that confirmed his offerings were working.
Hmm… when would it be safe to start petting Garcia? That would be a great stress reliever in this place, but the last thing he wanted was to become a scratching post. He didn't particularly mind the pain, but without alcohol or proper medicine, even a small wound could turn into a death sentence.
After scrubbing off as best as he could, without soap, because life sucked, he climbed onto the riverbank, wringing out his soaked hair. The cat didn't flinch as he walked past, just flicked its tail again.
"Well, if you're gonna stick around, at least help me hunt or something," he said, half-joking, before heading back to his training spot.
The bowstring hummed as he loosed another arrow.
Thwack.
Not bad. Not a bullseye, but close. He was starting to get the hang of this. His shots weren't wild anymore, and he could almost predict where the arrow would land. Almost.
He nocked another arrow, feeling the familiar strain in his muscles. He used to exercise, back when life wasn't so dull. Before he got the slap in the face that he wasn't so special. That he was just a cog in the machine. He used to push himself, eager to prove, to his classmates, his coworkers, his teachers, his bosses, that he deserved to exist.
His biceps had been his personal consolation prize. He wasn't the smartest, the handsomest, or the most athletic guy, but he was above average. He could do 25 pushups in one go. If women had makeup as their armor, he had his biceps. Something tangible, something real, something that reminded him he wasn't completely insignificant.
That had been enough. A small, tangible proof of effort. Just enough to give him a sliver of confidence, to make facing the day a little easier.
He pushed the nostalgic thoughts aside, adjusted his grip, and let the arrow fly.
Thwack.
Dead center.
A grin tugged at his lips. "Hell yeah."
He was starting to feel like a real Robin Hood, well, just the archery part. The whole steal from the rich, give to the poor thing didn't really apply here, considering capitalism hadn't even been invented yet. Greed definitely existed, but without the systems capitalism introduced, it was more… localized. For now.
But the bow? Yeah, he was feeling good about that.
He was already imagining what he might shoot with it. Bandits. Feral tribespeople. Maybe birds? What birds even lived here, anyway? Do eagles taste as good as chicken?
Dismissing his random thoughts, he turned, ready to grab another arrow, when something thudded at his feet.
His eyes snapped down.
A rat.
A dead rat.
His first instinct was disgust. His second was curiosity.
This wasn't the kind of rat he was used to seeing. It was smaller, with reddish-brown fur, a longer, thinner snout, and a tail that wasn't completely naked but covered in short fur. Its proportions felt… off, at least compared to the fat, scrappy street rats that used to scurry around the city.
Not that they ever really ambushed him, more like an uncomfortable amount of mutual acknowledgment during late-night convenience store runs. Anyway….
Evan lifted his gaze. The jungle cat stood a few feet away, watching him expectantly.
"…Oh."
It took him a second to realize what had just happened.
"You're… giving this to me?"
The cat blinked slowly.
He stared at the offering. Right. Cats did this.
His own cats used to drop cockroaches onto his slippers back in the day, like tiny, horrifying presents. Did that mean his old apartment was too nice for rats? Or were his cats just lazy little freeloaders who couldn't be bothered to hunt anything bigger?
Evan exhaled through his nose, crouching slightly. "Uh… thanks?"
The cat's tail flicked again, and it sauntered a little closer, still watching him. Maybe it was expecting him to eat it.
That… was not happening.
Still, it was kind of touching in a way. Wild or not, the cat had decided he was worth bringing food to. Maybe it saw him as part of its group now. Or maybe it thought he was an incompetent hunter who needed help.
Honestly, fair assessment.
Evan picked up the rat by its tail, careful not to let it touch his skin too much. He turned it over, inspecting it. Definitely not a modern rat. Maybe a native forest rat species? It was actually kind of cute, in a way, but that didn't change the fact that it was dead.
He glanced back at the cat. "So, uh… what am I supposed to do with this?"
No answer, obviously. The cat just sat down, licking a paw like it had done its duty.
From across the field, Binalig's laughter rang out, sharp and amused. "Hey, Hunyak, look at this! The cat is teaching Aso how to hunt!"
Evan sighed, already bracing himself for more teasing. He glanced at them and saw Hunyak laughing along with Binalig, both clearly enjoying the sight of him awkwardly holding the dead rat.
He gave up and just asked, "Where do I put this?"
Still chuckling, Hunyak called back, "We can use it for lunch."
His arms burned by the time he finished his training session, but the exhaustion felt good. A productive kind of tired.
The jungle cat had remained the whole time, lounging lazily nearby. Occasionally, it would flick an ear or stretch, but otherwise, it seemed content just hanging around.
Evan collected his arrows, then glanced back at the rat still lying where he had left it.
Should I just throw this away? Our food pile is getting dangerously low, but I'm not exactly hungry enough to eat a rat.
The cat flicked its tail, as if unimpressed with his hesitation.
With one last look at his practice target, the poor, abused tree, he turned and headed back, the jungle cat padding silently behind him.
He had a feeling this wasn't the last time it would bring him gifts.
Hunyak had already taken the rat and was expertly preparing it, much to Evan's horrified disgust.
With a practiced hand, Hunyak first held the small carcass by the tail and, with a swift motion, used a sharp knife to slit its belly open. She peeled back the skin, working quickly to separate fur from flesh. The entrails were discarded into a small woven bowl, likely to be thrown away or used for something else Evan didn't want to think about. Then, with a few precise cuts, Hunyak removed the limbs and head, leaving behind the meaty torso. She rinsed the pieces with a splash of water from a nearby gourd before tossing them onto a flat stone.
Evan swallowed hard, forcing down his discomfort. Stripped of fur and cleaned up, the meat didn't look much different from any other small animal. It's just meat, he told himself. Perfectly edible.
Still, the thought of eating a rat made his stomach twist.
Before he could dwell on it further, a sudden shout cut through the air.
"The Datu is back! The Datu is back!"
Evan blinked. Back? He hadn't even realized he was gone.
His confusion was short-lived as Hunyak suddenly bolted out of the hut, joining Binalig as they ran towards the village.
"Hey, guys, wait for me!" Evan called, scrambling after them.
They followed the growing crowd, joining the villagers gathering along the riverbank.
A massive boat loomed on the river, dwarfing the one they had used to harvest oysters. This one was longer, its sleek, narrow hull designed not just to carry people but to cut through the water with purpose. Rows of paddles lined its sides, motionless for now, yet poised to drive the vessel forward with swift, relentless speed.
Unlike the sturdy, stocky boats meant for trade and long voyages, this one had a raised prow, curving upward like the head of a beast surveying its domain. Wooden planks along its sides were reinforced, not just for structure but for defense, and the deck teemed with figures, warriors, by the look of them.
Evan exhaled slowly. Wow… Did the Datu just raid a village? Because that is basically a Viking longship.
Evan scanned the warriors, searching for any sign of prisoners or slaves. But none of them looked bloodied, nor were they nursing any wounds. So… a successful raid?
But where was the loot? No sacks of plunder, no terrified captives, just the usual weapons and supplies. The only thing that stood out on the boat was… two carabaos.
Evan frowned. Oh cool, they do cattle raids here.
Before he could dwell on that thought, the Datu stepped forward, and the murmuring villagers fell silent. His voice, deep and steady, carried effortlessly over the lapping river.
"The Rajah is pleased with our tribute. He has accepted our gifts and, in return, has sent us his favor. He knows our strength, our loyalty, and our worth."
Evan watched as the Datu gestured toward the boat, where the two massive carabaos stood tethered, their dark eyes calm.
"As a sign of his goodwill, he has gifted us these two mighty carabaos, beasts that will till our fields, strengthen our hands, and ensure that our harvests feed not only our families but our warriors, who defend this land."
He paused, scanning the crowd, letting his words sink in.
"These beasts are not merely gifts; they are a reminder that strength is not only found in the sharpness of our blades but in the bounty of our land. They will pull the plow as our ancestors did before us, turning the earth so that it may give life in return. With them, our children will grow strong, our granaries will stay full, and our warriors will never know hunger."
The villagers nodded, murmuring their approval.
Evan, meanwhile, was still stuck on the fact that the big prize here was farm animals. He had expected gold, maybe exotic goods, not livestock.
Makes sense, I guess. Two carabaos… if one was male and the other female, then the Datu wasn't just getting work animals, he was getting a walking, breathing investment. Give it a few years, and he'd have enough carabaos for the whole village.
"Along with these beasts, the Rajah has also sent us a pig, a fine one, fattened and strong." The Datu's voice carried a note of satisfaction. "Tonight, we will roast it over the fire, and we will eat not as mere farmers, nor fishermen, nor craftsmen, but as a people bound by blood, by honor, and by the spirits who walk with us."
The energy in the crowd shifted, anticipation crackling in the air. Even Evan felt it. The fires hadn't even been lit yet, but it was like he could already smell the feast.
Then, the Datu's gaze swept over the crowd and landed on a small figure, a boy, barely old enough to hold a spear. Evan caught the subtle nod the Datu gave him before raising his own spear high.
"But let us not grow soft in our joy! Tomorrow, we sharpen our spears and steady our hands. The time has come for the young to prove themselves. At sunrise, the training begins. The river will see their sweat, the wind will hear their cries, and before the next moon, one, perhaps two, will take their place among the warriors who guard our shores."
Evan's stomach twisted. He suddenly had a sinking feeling about what that meant.
The Datu let the words settle, let the weight of them press into the bones of those who listened. Then, with a slow, knowing smile, he spread his arms wide.
A thunderous cheer erupted. Villagers clapped each other on the back, voices rising in excitement. The celebration had already begun, and the scent of burning wood and roasting meat was soon to follow.
Evan exhaled. Well. At least there's food.
Luban
Luban wiped the sweat from his brow, his old hands steady despite the years of hammering, forging, and shaping metal. His eyes, still sharp as ever, studied the contraption before him. It was crude, unfamiliar, yet undeniably clever. A bow, mounted onto a sturdy wooden frame, its string held taut by fibers and a notched mechanism. The foreigner, Aso, had fashioned this strange device, claiming it would allow Binalig to use a bow again despite her missing arm. Or at lesat that was what Hunyak excitedly woken him up around 2 days ago
He traced a calloused finger along the wood, feeling its rough, uneven texture. The bow itself bore Binalig's handiwork, strong, well-crafted, its limbs carefully shaped for balance and power. The grip was wrapped in fibers for a steady hold, and the string was taut, made from finely twisted plant sinew. But the frame it was attached to? That was another story.
It looked as if someone had yanked it straight from the ground, barely stripped of its bark, with no carving, no smoothing, just raw, functional wood. A small hole beneath the notch held a simple stick, acting as a crude trigger. He could already picture how it worked: flick the stick, and the string would snap forward, sending the arrow flying without the archer needing to hold it drawn.
Clever. Imperfect, but clever.
He had spent his life shaping the weapons of hunters and warriors, crafting tools that fed and protected his people. He knew the weight of innovation, of change. If this contraption could truly restore Binalig's ability to fight, then it was more than just a foreigner's whim. It was a gift. And yet, something about it unsettled him. He had spent decades perfecting bows, spears, and blades, this thing did not belong in this world.
Setting the contraption aside, he reached for another piece of work awaiting his hands: two stone arm guards. Heavier than a normal sword. Rock from a falling star if Alunay was to be believed. She had entrusted him with its gilding, intending to present it to Aso.
Again, Aso.
Luban inspected one of the stone arm guards. The craftsmen who created it seemed to have been in a rush. They used fibers instead of leather. The stone was way too thick. It will definitely need to be thinned. Without reinforcement, it will break upon contact with a sword but with a few more gold designs on the outside of the stone, it will be a decent decorative gift for a Datu's son.
He had heard the rumors about the foreigner saving Alunay, but he still couldn't bring himself to believe it. That girl was strong, blessed by the spirits. She didn't need saving.
He glanced outside, hearing the distant sounds of laughter and chatter. The village buzzed with energy, preparing for tonight's feast. The scent of roasting meat drifted in the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of burning wood. The Datu had returned victorious, bearing gifts from the Rajah, carabaos, a pig, and the promise of a feast. But beneath the celebration, beneath the joy, Luban sensed a shift. Change had come, quiet but insistent, in the form of a single foreigner.
He placed the arm guard down, his fingers lingering on the cool stone. What was it about this Aso that had stirred the village? That had placed foreign weapons in his hands, foreign stone/steel on his workshop? He had seen outsiders come and go, traders, wanderers, lost souls looking for a place to rest. But none had caused such a ripple.