11: Sticking To It

I was back at square one.

"There has to be a better way, but what? Rocks? Duh, and they’re everywhere!"

Stone rubble littered the ruins in all sizes. I grabbed the two closest pieces of stone and struck them together.

Clack!

Nothing.

Clack!

Still no sparks. I figured there wasn't enough friction, and hitting them harder was the answer.

Clack!

Not yet. Once more, harder still.

"Come on—Dammit!"

I missed. My reward? Bloody knuckles.

"What the hell?! Nothing works like—How am I supposed to do anything here?!"

I flung the rocks away.

"Maybe if the wood… No. Without an axe or something, it's not like I can chop…" I looked at the statue’s sword. It wasn't sharp, but a tool was a tool. "Why not? You're not using it. Tell me if I’m wrong. I dare you… No? Good."

I just needed to get closer. A small jump from the basin’s ledge to the statue's pedestal almost left me in the water. My hands grabbed wildly for something to keep from falling, and one hand caught the sword’s crossguard.

"Ngh!"

The weight of my body tugged on my shoulder and held me back. Sure, it kept me from an unwanted bath, but the force of my entire body did nothing. The weapon wouldn’t budge.

"Just… give it to me." I pulled again. "Let… go!" I struggled for longer than I would ever admit and still made no progress. The hand resting on the pommel held firm, keeping the sword from my possession.

"Fine… then… you… you selfish… You win… this time." I laid on the curved bench of the basin to catch my breath. "What if…" I glanced back at my perfect stick lying on the ground. "…I had my own…" The gears in my head cranked into overdrive. "…weapon?"

An actual sword was out of the question. I wasn’t that naïve, but something to protect myself wasn’t. I already proved it was manageable to swing around. All that remained was shaping the tip and carving the fibrous end into something useful. I had a plan.

I fetched my former perfect stick from where it landed and returned to the basin bench. Why sit on the ground if I had a choice? I pressed the tip of the wood against the stone beside me and pushed it away. A pulpy green streak traced behind the tip, proving my plan was sound. I continued the action while tediously spinning the stick to bring it to a more conical point.

A growl from my stomach interrupted my crafting. Time had slipped by, and the sun was already setting. I didn’t want to lose my momentum, though. I kept at it as the light continued to fade. My stick was more important.

"Done… I think."

My effort shortened the stick a bit from trial and error, turning into a short and slightly crooked javelin of sorts. I didn’t care that much. The important part was that my new weapon had a tip that looked nice and sharp. I finally determined it was good enough, though touching the tip still proved how soft it was. I wouldn’t cause any major damage, but maybe, with enough force behind it, I could hurt something. That was probably the most harm I'd inflict. My intention was to protect myself, though, not kill. I hoped that was good enough to scare away my food thief, or anything else.

Back in my hovel, I unsealed my food jar and jabbed the weapon into the not-so-delicious dinner I crafted it to protect. It easily defeated the harmless vegetable. Proof of concept? Not really. I ate a few and popped a berry I’d been saving into my mouth for dessert. The sweet juice made the main course all the easier to stomach.

Before calling it a night, I pulled an extra vegetable out to use as bait. Using it, at least I’d know where the animal was when it returned for another meal. I placed it in a corner of my hovel to make the thing an easier target. I finally completed my trap.

"That’s right. Better not mess with me."

Night swept over the ruins, bathing everything in the moon’s dim light. I sat in my leafy corner, with the bait opposite me. The dark corners of the building cloaked both it and me in shadows, but my eyes never left their target. I knew where it was. I didn't need to see it. I remained ready for the intruder’s return, with my new weapon never leaving my hands. I kept watch. I waited. I fell asleep.

Schlorp… plop… pop… hngh—!

Shit!

I grabbed my weapon tight, ready to strike. My hands were empty fists. I dropped the stick in my sleep.

No!

Fumbling in the dark, I held my breath and blindly dug through the leaves.

Not it. Not… there. Come on, where is it? It has to be around here somewhere. Why’d you fall asleep? Are you really that stupid—?

Schlorp… plop… pop…

Got it!

I lunged forward. The pointy end of my stick was ready to jab my unwanted dinner guest.

Clunk.

"Huh?"

The weapon—I missed. I hit the stone corner instead of my pesky visitor. My plan was unraveling by the second. I struck again.

Hngh!

Clunk!

I hit it, or so I thought, then immediately struck the bottom of the wall. The creature barely reacted, only making a wheeze to acknowledge something bumping into it. I changed tactics.

"G-get out!"

On my feet, I swung the stick down like a club repeatedly in a game of whack-an-intruder. I never missed the stone ground once as I drummed out a beat of failure. My heart pounded out a similar tune in my ears to accompany the pathetic solo until something shrieked back at me. The stick bounced off whatever it was like rubber, sending me back a step.

A streak of brown slipped through the moonlight and out of my hovel. I chased after it, bumbling into the partial wall and knocking a chunk off. Watch it! Outside, I caught a glimpse of a brown slime slither around a corner to safety.

"That?! The whole time… and it was just… a stupid… slime? I was terrified—afraid of a little… slime like that?!"

I looked at the weapon in my hand. A blunted tip and a worse bend than before. My repeated whacks against the ground broke the thing. It was still one piece, but only because the fibers hadn’t let go yet. I twisted and pulled it apart, tossing the miserable pieces over to my pile, missing entirely.

"Really?! Even…? If I can’t do anything right, then… then what’s the point? This is ridiculous!"

Nothing went according to my plan, except giving the slime a snack before chasing it off. In fact, I almost made things worse. The partial wall I bumped into during the pursuit was shorter thanks to me. If I’d collided with it at the wrong spot, the building might have even collapsed on me. Trying to fight anything inside my hovel was the worst part of my tragic plan. I cautiously pressed against the wall from the outside where I thought I’d be safe, unsure if it was safe to return inside. Thankfully, it remained in one piece.

Returning to my pile of leaves, I curled up and tried to sleep, but even the slightest noises woke me up after that. Without any protection, I only had one option going forward. If something else came for me, I had to run. Fighting back would never work.