Chapter 11 Overwhelming Fatigue

I grasped the two rocks in my grubby hands, my tiny fingers struggling to find purchase on their rough surfaces. With a pitiful grunt, I slammed them together with all the feeble strength my puny arms could muster, hoping to conjure forth the elusive spark that would ignite the dry tinder at my feet.

But instead of sparks, all I felt was a jarring pain shooting up my arms as the rocks collided with a resounding thud. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I clenched my teeth against the stinging sensation, refusing to let out a whimper of pain. Sweat beaded on my furrowed brow as frustration gnawed at my insides. But no matter how hard I banged the rocks together, no sparks came forth, only frustration and agony.

"Come on, little Hermit," Kaka grunted encouragingly, his voice a mix of encouragement and patience.

 "You've got to hold it steady, like this." He reached over to steady my hand, his touch firm but gentle as he guided me through the motion once more.

Sweat trickled down my brow as I redoubled my efforts, desperation driving me to strike harder and faster. And then, just when I was about to give up hope, a small spark flew from the flint, landing on the pile of tinder below. My heart leaped with excitement as the tinder caught fire, the flames flickering to life in a triumphant blaze.

"I did it!" I yelled, a wide grin spreading across my face as I basked in the warmth of the fire I had created.

"Ah, well done, little Hermit," Kaka praised, his eyes twinkling with pride as he watched the flames dance before us. But then, with a solemn expression, he reached out to gently extinguish the fire with a handful of dirt.

"Making fire is a good skill to have," Kaka began, his voice low and serious, "but we must be careful where we use it. Inside such a small cave like this, it's dangerous. The smoke can choke us, and if the fire gets out of control, we could all be in grave danger. This is important to remember. It is! If we make fire inside a small cave like this, we might not wake up again. Fire is very painful and dangerous, I know!"

 "Only in big caves or outside is it safe to make fire. So be cautious about it, it's a powerful tool, and we must respect its dangers." Kaka finished, his hand resting reassuringly on my wrinkled head. 

I nodded eagerly, my eyes wide with newfound understanding.

 "I'll be careful, Kaka, I didn't know fire could be so dangerous inside a small cave. But I'll remember, only in big caves or outside. Thank you for teaching me, Kaka. I'll be cautious, I promise."

 But Kaka's teachings did not end there, he shifted his focus to a new lesson: the art of counting. Sitting beside me, he began to explain how crucial it was to understand numbers in the unforgiving wilderness.

"Listen closely, little one. Next, I will teach you numbers. Counting is more than just knowing how many of something there are. It's about understanding the world around us, about knowing when to gather enough food, or how many steps to take to reach safety."

He extended his rough hands, using his fingers as makeshift counters.

 "This is one," he said, holding up a single finger. 

"And this is two," he continued, adding another finger. With each digit, he patiently guided me through the sequence, his voice a steady rhythm in the quiet of the cave.

As we progressed, Kaka's fingers danced through the air, demonstrating the concept of addition and subtraction. 

"When we add one more," he explained, "we get three. And when we take one away," he continued, folding a finger down, "we're left with two."

I watched in awe as Kaka's fingers moved with ease, the world of numbers unfolding before me like a secret language waiting to be discovered. And with each lesson, I felt a familiar sense of knowledge surfacing from within me.

 "Three, four, five," he counted, each finger joining the others until his hand was a closed fist.

"See how easy it is?" Kaka asked, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. 

"Now, let's move on to the toes." He lifted his foot, revealing a set of gnarled toes that he wiggled in the air.

"Just like the fingers," he explained, "each toe is a number."

I watched in fascination as Kaka continued to count, his fingers and toes moving in a synchronized dance of numbers.

 "Six, seven, eight, nine, ten," he counted, his voice soft but firm as he guided me through the intricacies of counting.

With eager enthusiasm, I soaked up every bit of knowledge that Kaka had to offer, my mind a sponge hungry for the nourishment of his teachings.

As the hours passed, I felt a sense of knowledge swell within me, the weight of my past struggles slowly lifting from my weary shoulders as Kaka's guidance offered me a glimmer of hope in the darkness.

 With each lesson, Kaka grew more and more exhausted but he continued imparting upon me the knowledge needed to survive in the perilous forest.

"Camouflaging," Kaka focused on next, "is essential for avoiding predators. Covering ourselves with stinking mud or animal poop masks our scent, making us less appealing to hungry beasts. Our goblin poop is especially stinky so it makes great repellant. remember that, little one." 

He chuckled, adding, "After all, what predator would want to eat a stinking goblin that tastes like poop? They prefer clean flesh, so they steer clear of the 'stinkies'. But do not get too comfortable after smearing yourself with stinky poop, monsters still can kill you for fun. You still need to be very careful. You do!"

I wrinkled my nose at the thought but nodded, understanding the importance of Kaka's lesson.

Next, Kaka turned his attention to navigating in the darkness.

 "If you ever find yourself lost at night, look up at the sky. Those bright dots are called stars. By observing their positions and movements, you can orient yourself and find your way. It is very difficult to master orientation by stars but when you get a hang of it, it becomes very useful knowledge."

But Kaka's teachings didn't stop there. He continued to share his wisdom, teaching me how to recognize weather patterns and prepare for storms or harsh conditions.

"Pay attention to the wind, the clouds, and a sudden change in heat. These signs can tell you when a storm is coming, giving you time to seek shelter and stay safe." He taught me to read the subtle signs in the clouds, the shift in the wind, and the gathering of dark storm clouds on the horizon.

As the hours melted away like wax in the fire's glow, the night had come and I watched with growing concern as Kaka's stamina waned. Despite his best efforts to keep up the facade of alertness, the relentless march of exhaustion began to take its toll.

His already glazed-over eyes grew heavy-lidded, struggling to stay open against the weight of sleep that threatened to defeat him. With each passing moment, I observed the battle playing out before me, the silent struggle etched across Kaka's weathered face.

His eyelids drooped, fluttering open and shut like fragile wings caught in a storm. I could see the effort it took to keep them from closing, to hold back the encroaching darkness that sought to claim him.

His head, once held high, now wobbled precariously on his shoulders, swaying with the rhythm of his fading consciousness. I feared with each sway that his strength would fail him, that he would succumb to the irresistible pull of sleep.

And yet, despite the overwhelming fatigue that devastated him, Kaka pushed on, his words slurred and fragmented as they slipped past his weary lips. Each sentence was punctuated by jaw-breaking yawns, his mouth stretching wide in a silent scream of exhaustion.

"Mud... poop... predators... stinkies..." Kaka mumbled, his words slurred and disjointed as if wrestling with a tangled mess of thoughts. 

"Stars... sky... bright dots... orientate... weather... prepare..." His voice trailed off into a series of incomprehensible grunts and groans, his eyelids drooping with the weight of exhaustion.

"Camouflage... important... predators... stinking goblin... tastes like poop..." Kaka's words stumbled over each other, tripping and tumbling into a jumbled mess of syllables. 

"Monsters... clean flesh... steer away... stinkies..."

"Kaka, Kaka!" I yelped gently, reaching out to touch his weary arm and halt his fragmented mumbling. 

"It's time to stop for today. You need to rest! You do! Save your strength for tomorrow."

I could see the exhaustion etched into every line and scar of his face, the weariness weighing heavily upon his shoulders.

 "You tired, you need rest. Go sleep, Kaka," I urged softly, my voice laced with concern.

 "I'll stay alert through the night, keeping watch for any signs of danger. If anything comes up, I promise to wake you."

With a weary nod, Kaka allowed himself to be guided to a makeshift bed of moss and leaves.

 "Thank you, Hermit," he murmured, "for looking out for me."

 "I'll rest," his words slurred with weariness.

 "But... if you need... me..." His voice trailed off, lost in the fog of exhaustion as sleep claimed him, his breathing slow and steady in the quiet of the cave.

With a tender smile, I tucked a makeshift pelt blanket around Kaka's shoulders, ensuring he was as comfortable as possible before settling down to keep vigil over the cave.

With Kaka soundly snoring in the corner of the cave, cocooned beneath a warm pelt blanket, I nestled close to our makeshift door, peering through the gaps in the crude wooden barrier. My eyes darted nervously through the gaps, scanning the darkness beyond. The forest was as ominous as ever, the shadows stretching like grasping fingers into the night. 

But unlike other nights, tonight the forest seemed to pulse with a strange energy, a cacophony of rustling leaves and distant calls echoing through the stillness. Unbeknownst to me, the local animals and monsters had finished feasting on the bodies of our fellow goblin slaves and the evil goblins from the breeding farm we had escaped.

Throughout the long night, I fought to keep my eyelids from drooping, the weight of exhaustion pulling at me like an invisible force. But despite my best efforts, my resolve began to crumble, fatigue seeping into my bones until every movement felt like a strenuous effort.

I tried to stay vigilant, to remain alert for any signs of danger lurking in the shadows. But as the hours stretched on, my eyelids felt like they were made of lead, each blinking a struggle against the relentless pull of sleep.

With a pitiful whimper, I slumped against the cave entrance, my body betraying me as exhaustion overtook me. As I drifted into the embrace of sleep, my last conscious thought was a silent prayer that Kaka would remain safe through the night, shielded from the dangers that lurked beyond our fragile sanctuary.