Help!

I cannot sleep … My heart is almost stinging. Placing my hand in my chest, I can feel it beating so fast and so hard. I cannot keep my mind out of today's events. 

How are Daniel and José so much better than me? I'm the senior here … I should have done more, I should do better.

Although ... I did get most of the fiber and lead the way into making those into strings. 

Who am I fooling ... José is the one who got most of the food.

Not to mention Daniel, he got enough bamboo to make a small shelter. How did I not focus on getting something for shelter and leave it for the youngest one to take initiative? 

Was I too lazy to go after something heavier? No, I just didn't think it through … Oh, my anxiety. I'm useless in this world too. 

After I invested everything in survival instead of combat, I should've at least been a leader in that front, but I was a complete chump. 

I didn't even guide the boy. He got the wood by lunging at it and kicking. No wonder he got very sore and hurt. His clothes are also ripped … 

Poor boy, that isn't how you're supposed to do that, and I knew that … You should have used some kind of leverage and snapped it at the joints …

I died a completely pointless death. Couldn't even mourn my family and was already thrown into a chaotic situation. Lost contact Biel. Was completely useless in combat and then couldn't even show my worth in the one thing I spent all my points on … 

“Daniel. You can go to sleep. I'll keep watch” 

We trade places unceremoniously. Both of them are now under a bundle of bamboo, tied together by our hand made strings. We took those and leaned it against a nearby tree and above a bunch of the least humid leafs we could find. 

It took at least two hours to make enough rope, split the wood in halves — which we did by knocking them against trees and each other. Then we managed to place everything in a good angle, so there was space for two of us.

The rope is relatively simple to make, and it is my current time-wasting activity. Just pick some of the gathered dry fiber, one can leave them in the sun if they are green. Split them in two meshes, not too bulky, but not too slim either. Then twist each mesh with one hand and then twist again, but now one mesh against the other. 

The night drags on. I work my hands against the fiber, twisting strands into cord, trying to quiet the thoughts gnawing at me. The “skill tree” taught me the technique, but only practice gives it life. Perhaps this is what the system is — not a handout, but a school.

It is good to focus on something else. Before long, there isn't any sign I was ever having an anxiety attack and even start feeling a bit sleepy. I guess I have to power throw for now, keep guard. I imagine which wild animals are there around here, but cannot say I'm very eager to meet them. 

I take a mental note that we really have terrible visibility here. We are a bit downhill from the camp. In addition to that, it was pretty inconvenient dealing with the terrain inclination and overall lack of space around here. We'll definitely have to move to a better place tomorrow.

In addition to that, we need better tools. It seems it'd be particularly useful to have means to cut stuff, get more wood with less effort. José was using a sword, so maybe I could borrow his and make some more blades from bamboo. 

I go towards it, trying to not wake up him just yet. He didn't let go of the sword all day and is sleeping embracing it — It might even be dangerous, he could probably get cut. I guess it is better to not risk taking it from him right now. 

Oh, wait. 

I spot José’s knife. It is just a knife, but with it infinite possibilities open.

I'll start splitting a dry bamboo, I kept some dry ones on the side before as it is hard to find anything dry around here.  

This is actually so exciting. It might not be best done right now, but I need to practice and, honestly: I cannot help it.

Unfortunately, as I'm shaving both halves with the knife for a tinder bundle, I guess I made too much noise and José woke up.

“What are you doing with my knife, man? Stealing now?” He grips his sword, uncertain but dangerous.

“No, no, no, José. I'm sorry. Hold this. And watch.”

I hand him the shavings and start to drill a hole on one side of the stalk, to make space for oxygen in the air to participate through and to house the spark. A notch opposite to it to guide the motion. I use the other half as a support and place it between my tight and a nearby tree.

I start grinding one against the other, the fastest I can.

GRIND GRIND

 The notch wasn't big enough, the stick falls twice. 

I take the knife again and make a better, sharper, notch. 

Once again, the stem against my leg and the fast motion that now is also smooth and continuous. I can see confusion in José's face and start feeling the heat and strain on my arms, but I won't stop. 

GRIND GRIND

GRIND GRIND

Finally, smoke. A spark. 

“Quick” I say while standing my hand for the tinder.

There is a smoking black mass inside the hole with a red dot around the center. A fragile ember glowing red, trembling with possibility.

I dump it on top of the bamboo shavings. Blow a little of air into it and wait, my heart pounding. 

The ember breathes, spreads, and, suddenly the popping sound, the smoke, the heat, and the dancing golden plasma dressed in a seductive red. 

“Nice one man! Hahaha. That is so amazing!"

A sharp reminder of the power of humanity. 

Of everything the future might hold for us.

We did it. We conquered fire!