Wilton heads to the brook. He pops his clay grill and pot out under water to cool it down quickly. He pops the grill back into his inventory, fills the pot with water, and carries it back to the burrow. He puts the grill down over the fire pit, lights the fire pit, and then places the pot down on the grill. He stirs the leek leaves into the water and creates a stock with it.

While that's cooking he also cooks a slice of the boar. He uses his flint knife to chop up two of the apples. Once the pork is cooked he slices it up and throws it in the stock with the apples. When all of that is cooked he moves the pot into his burrow.

He spoons some out into a bowl for himself to eat and places a lid over the pot to save the rest. He goes back outside, throws more wood in the kiln, and buries it. While he is waiting for that to cook he starts on another project. He uses the hoes to clear a small patch of land. He pulls up a few roots that are still clinging to the earth before he digs a small hole. Wilton buries the leek bulbs and covers them with the soft earth.

He unburies the kiln as the sun starts to set. He takes the charcoal, scoops some of it into a bowl, and brings it inside his home. He closes the door behind him. He strips bark off some of the log sections he has. Taking the bark and the charcoal he grinds them up together while muttering a prayer to infuse the dust with power.

The black powder has a slight greenish hue to it when he is done. He takes a stick that ends in a y-cross and dips the ends of the “y” into the powder. Wilton is positive that there is a transference of energy from the dust to his stick creating a divining rod.

He waves the divining rod around the entrance to his home as he says a prayer of protection. He stays like this reciting the prayer for nearly a half hour before he hears something outside. There is a scratch at the door.

“Who’s there?” Wilton asks with a shaky voice.

The door buckles inward slightly, almost knocked out of its secured spot, as something slams into the other side of the doorway.

Wilton scrambles back and his spear pops into his hand. He leans against the back wall of his home and slides to the ground. He braces the spear against the wall and stares at the entrance to his burrow. Barely able to make it out in the dark.

He sits and watches through the night. Eventually falling asleep with his dreams filled with terrors and haunts.