The next day was a whirlwind of activity.

First, I spent the morning in the forest hunting for materials: wood of various shapes and sizes, bark for cordage, and pine resin. I also found two stones, one shaped like a dinner plate and another like a shallow bowl. I danced at finding the bowl. There was already a way for it to be useful.

Back at the glen, I gathered leftover charcoal from yesterday’s fire and ground the pieces into powder with a smooth rock. When that was done, I started a fire and heated the pine resin in the shallow bowl.

I’d never made pine pitch before, but saw it done, courtesy of the esteemed Dr. Singh. It’s a natural glue made from a mixture of pine resin, charcoal powder, and filler. (I used ground dead leaves.) Once the pitch was ready, I set it by the fire to keep it soft and warm.

Next, I brought out the dagger to examine it. The morning light reflected on the blade and danced across the stone and water. If they also happened to flash across the otter’s eyes, I made sure to make it look like an accident.

Annoyed, she swam to the far end of the pool.

I grinned and began to whittle and assemble my finds: A hefty branch shaped like an elbow turned into an adze. I split one end with the dagger and smeared the gap with pitch. Then I wedged a flat piece of knapped flint into it and corded the wood to keep it secure. I swung the adze against a log, and it cut and shaved the wood nicely. Well enough for flint anyway.

Next, I split a curved branch lengthwise. It was about a foot long, and I carved a gap in the middle of both halves. I coated the gaps with pitch, placed a piece of knapped flint between them, and reassembled the two halves. I finished the draw knife by lashing the pieces together. Now, I could shave wood more finely (by holding the blade between two hands and “drawing” it towards me).

Now, I had all the tools I needed for the afternoon’s projects. I glanced at the bone spikes left from the worms and the stave of wood scavenged from the split ash tree.

But first, lunch. My muscles ached, especially my back from being hunched over. I stood and made a show of stretching, not letting go of the dagger. Instead, I waved it in the air.

“Wow, this dagger is amazing. It made my work so easy. And it hasn’t dulled at all, still razor sharp. It’s beautiful too.” I gazed at it fondly. “The craftsmanship is superb.”

Over the course of the morning, the otter made her way across the pool in stages. She came closer each time to watch me make the tools.

“I bet the dagger will make quick work of lunch too.”

The otter’s brows lifted. Considering? Dubious? Both?

My little landlord was a hoarder, with a keen eye for shiny things. I planned to take advantage of that fact. Not her--I’d never take advantage of her. No, it’d be a fair trade I proposed. For something I desperately wanted.

Magic.

I stayed up late thinking it through. The world was dangerous. It was like being dropped in the middle of New York City without knowing anything about the culture and technology. You might get hit by a car or apprehended by the police. Except in my previous world, the consequences were recoverable.

Let’s say the worst happened: You get hit by a car, and when the police arrived, you panicked and assaulted them. Now, you’ve been hit by a car and shot, bleeding on the ground. But the ambulance has already been dispatched. The strange creatures who wounded you also saved your life.

It didn’t always work that way, but in general, you could recover from your mistakes.

That wasn’t the case here. Here, a single mistake could cost you your life. And the only reason it hadn’t cost me mine yet, was because of the otter’s healing magic.

I needed that magic to cushion the blow when I made mistakes; to create a buffer against dying and opportunities to learn how to live in this world. And if I could trade the dagger for those opportunities, it’d be a fair trade.

It was the same question as with the chain mail: Defense or utility? And again, defense won.

But first, I was going to work the heck out of the dagger. I was a great fan of utility and planned to wring as much use from it as possible before trading it away.