After creating a rope ton of cord, I begin working on the rabbit hide. Drying it over the fire has given the hide a rough texture that I work out by folding, kneading, and mashing it up. The finished product is a soft dry pelt that I cut in half. Having no illusions that these shoes will be better than my last attempts, I carefully begin crafting.

If I had one more pelt, I could use the hardened hide as the sole for my shoes, sewing them together with my cord. The extra support and protection would be dreamy. I get lost in the thought of creating a better shoe as if I had the skills to bring my ideas to life.

The two hides are placed beneath my feet. Using charcoal, I trace the shape of each foot roughly on the fur side of the hide. Once I am satisfied with the form, I grab one of the hides and begin weaving the border of the hide with some cord using a needle I create from bones.

My hope is that the border strap will provide structure for the rest of my straps. With my newly woven border on the shoe, the rest of the process involves adding straps. The toe strap connects to a front strap that arches over my foot. A back strap is anchored with two straps in the back and wraps around my ankle, tying onto the front strap.

Creating basic shoes is complicated, and I painfully struggle to finish adding the straps, only to repeat the process once more for the other foot. My finished product is two rough-looking hide sandals. I love them. Covering my feet in soft fur, they offer the tiniest barrier, which I am incredibly grateful for, between the harsh forest floor and my bare feet.

Lounging in my cozy fresh kicks, I whip out a bowl and a spoon and help myself to Wild Goldshroom Soup. Despite lacking proper seasoning, the bitterweeds, mixed with oxalis and wild onion reeds, pack quite the flavor, all of which enriches the broth and the mushrooms.

Oxalis, a clover-like weed with white stems and a pink flower, particularly adds a mild acidic flavoring which I find rather enjoyable. Each bite is a warm treat, adding to the coziness of my current mood.

Filling my stomach with two bowls of the chunky soup, I am at the point where I can eat more and be more than full, or I can stop and let the soup cook for another future meal. Showing some restraint, I make a trip into the woods to collect the proper ingredients. Return to my camp. Prepare the ingredients, add them to the soup pot and then add three bowls of water.

Since I do not want to eat anytime soon, I move the soup pot into a lower heated fire section. Soup fully replenished and slow cooking, I congratulate myself for taking care of present and future food needs.

I'm running low on firewood and want my fire for the night. I will need to collect some more. My short- and long-term plans are completed, so I spend the rest of the daylight gathering wood. A task is noticeably much easier now that I don't have to be so careful with each step I take.

My wood pile grows quickly. I am confident that I will have enough wood for the next two days even if I get wild and decide to stoke the flames once in a while.

Fire being my entertainment, I don't doubt that there very well could be some wild burning moments. High flames, red coals, popping wood, the kind of fire you wouldn't expect to see at some lame lonesome campsite. Excited by the prospects of such a fire, I add three thick pine logs to the fire. It's going to get wild.

Even though it is now dark, my fire is producing enough light that I can see clearly around my camp. I don't feel like sleeping yet, so I dive into cultivation. Last night I created piles of knives. Tonight I am really going to stretch myself and see how many sword piles I can make.

Who knows, maybe some confused customer will walk into my shop not actually wanting knives, but their longer dicier counterparts.

Huh, as if a sword customer would walk into a shop selling knives. It isn't his market…

Well, you are in luck, trepid swordsman. Not only do I have piles of knives, I also have a pile of swords. Go ahead and swing away.

Devious market manipulation thoughts play through my mind. Unknowingly, I have stopped creating swords. Instead, I am playing the role of the sword customer, swinging my sword in a well-practiced manner. My thoughts seem to fade as I am completely present in the moment.

Sword in hand, I instinctively run through different forms of cutting, stabbing, and more advanced cutting and piercing. My steps are precise. I never lose my footing, even in varying terrain. Working through maneuvers, each action is incredibly fast and honed.

The sword feels like my intentions made manifest, perfect execution of my thoughts and desires. I feel good. More than that, I feel like I am experiencing the person I used to be.

Finished with my sword forms, I am breathing heavily and smiling wildly. Wanting to experience the familiar feelings more, I add more wood to the fire and start the exercise again. This time, however, I summon one more sword.

Both swords are around three feet in length, the hilts just longer than my hand. Bone-white edges gradually slope from the blade's clunky middle, making the swords wide. A thin crossguard divides the blade from the hilt, extending slightly past the edges on both sides of the swords.

Despite the imperfections with two swords in hand, I work through different forms more suitable for the two blades. Similarly, the actions are quick and perfect, and it feels right.

So maybe I was once a devious knifer. Selling knives and the occasional sword to the lost customer. Destined to provide the knifeless with their own set of cutlery, I traveled the world selling my fine blades at discounted prices. Once I reached my goal, life was without meaning. So I settled down in the desert, never to set up shop again. If everyone has a knife, what purpose is a knifer?

That's the one. That has got to be my backstory.

I finish the duel sword forms feeling rejuvenated mentally and physically but also exhausted from the intense exercises. Happy with the day and with nothing else to do, I make my bed. It is another delicate process that involves kicking dirt and sticks around until the ground is flat. Satisfied with the smooth grounds, I lay down and fall into a deep, restful sleep.

Sometime around early morning pre-sun rising, I startle awake with an eerie sense of being watched. Swords in hand and ready for a fight, I do a quick scan around my camp. My heart jumps a beat when I see a decrepit figure sitting by my fire.

Recognizing the pile of bones for what it is, eases my mind. I am glad that my minion has returned. More than that, he is preparing food over the fire. Upon closer examination, I can see two decent-sized fishes cooking on a flat rock. I don't know if I am happier to see my friend return or food on the fire. It could be both. Either way, I am happy with how this morning is going.

"Bones, you're back. And you're cooking fish. Welcome back!" Even though I am not expecting a response, I still greet my companion openly. The skeleton raises his gaze from the fire, motions me to eat the fish, and stares back into the blazing flames.

Bones' cooked fish is an excellent start to the day. It is rich in flavor and protein. Devouring the fish quickly, none of it is wasted. I almost go so far as licking the rock it was cooked on. I don't, of course, that is dirty. Even in my most wild times, I still have some dignity. Also, the rock is still hot from the fire. I can think of no better way of ruining a great morning than burning my tongue.

Belly full and rock licking avoided, I thank Bones for the food and for keeping the fire burning throughout the night. Though I can't actually see it, I can sense my minion grinning. Letting him relish in his success, I get to my morning routine of stretches, strengthening, and sword form exercises, followed by a quick swim in the river.

While I am going about my business, Bones is watching me. I can't tell if he wants to join in or not and make a note to invite him to follow along next time.

While I drip dry by the fire, Bones taps my arm and motions for me to follow him. I think nothing of it and follow my minion as he takes me back across the river in the direction he disappeared in yesterday.

Nearly a mile later, we meet up with the section of the river that forks west from the main river back at camp. Bones leads me along the smaller river setting a grueling pace as he is practically sprinting the whole time.

Three miles in, and I am gasping for air. I swear I should be in much better shape than this. A reforged body should allow a person to sprint for countless miles. Yet here I am, dry throat and wheezing for air. If I didn't know better, I would assume I was back in the desert. It certainly isn't my proudest moment when I slow down to catch my breath.

Bones is patient as he stands in his superior posture, not struggling at all. It sort of seems like he is making this a competition—is my minion trash-talking me without using words? I'm not even upset if he is. That has got to be miming skills to the tenth level if he can pull that off. I'm impressed.

In my defense, he is made of bones and mana. He doesn't need any air, and his heart isn't struggling to provide oxygen to his body. He doesn't even have a heart. Hell, Bones is practically a machine. Plus, the last two miles have been a constant incline; even if it isn't steep, it is still an incline.

Traveling at a slower jogging pace, I can appreciate the section of forest we are in. Much like the campsite, the forest here is full of life. Not quite as packed as the area around my camp, the site here has similar pine, aspen, and other trees that I can't quite identify. Noticeably, the trees here are thicker, and the soil is a rich shade of dark brown.

The river we have been following is much smaller than the river I am used to. Four feet wide and waist-deep, the river—maybe a stream at this point—has a pleasant gentle flow towards the lower, larger river.

Two miles and a stream crossing later, we finally reach Bones' destination...what looks to be the mountain's base. Leveling out, the forest is nice and flat where we are standing. Directly ahead of us and feeding the stream is a magnificent pond almost the size of a small lake.

Keeping the pond full is a gradual waterfall taller than the nearby trees running down the rocky mountain cliff. Extending far to the north, the ridge gradually turns into a steep hill towards the south. Surrounding the pond are large oak trees and other lush vegetation with an equal amount of rocky and muddy shorelines.

It is more rock than mud on the north side of the pond where I am standing. Further away from the waterfall, the pond water is clear, allowing me to see the bottom ten feet below. Swimming in the large pond is an abundance of fish.

I'm still dreaming. I am sure of it. I have to be. This place is too amazing to be real. My minion returns with food and then leads me to paradise. I'm ready to wake up from this pleasant dream when I see Bones grinning as much as he can with his skeleton face, gloating, both fists pumping in the air.

Nope. This isn't a dream. This is real. I am being outplayed by my minion, and he is flaunting his superiority.

"Well played, Bones." I concede. Turns out that losing to my minion isn't a bad deal when I reap the fruits of his labor.

"Thank you," I add in for good measure. I may be a loser, but I am probably the best loser here, so I guess that kind of makes me a winner.

For my own reason, I also join in on the fist-pumping session, though I am much more reserved and only commit to one fist in the air.

As if his victory is diminished by celebration, Bones exits the fist dancing party early, leaving my lonely fist to tango solo.

Unintentionally ending the celebration ceremony early, I continue to inspect our new home. Next to the waterfall, I see a depression in the cliff. Walking towards it, I take a closer look. Sure enough, this site comes with its own cave.

Tucked into the mountain, the cave is about twelve feet deep, seven feet high, and eight feet wide. We are close to ten feet away from the waterfall and slightly further away from the pond. There is enough of a slope that I have no worries about flooding.

After inspecting the cave, I look at Bones. I don't know how he has done it, but his skeletal face has an even smug look of victory. He knows that I know that this place is precisely the better spot I had in mind yesterday.

Bones' moment of victory comes to a close when I instruct him to return to our original camp and recover what little supplies we have. Which essentially equates to retrieving our cord and soup.

I know it is trivial and a waste of time. I just need to exert my authority a little to remind myself I am the master. To make the fetch quest a bit more productive, I task Bones with bringing back some of the fire if he can. Even if it is only a matter of smashing rocks together, I prefer not having to start a fire from scratch again.

Orders received, Bones takes off at a quick sprint following the stream.

I take a moment to inspect the cave more thoroughly. It is nice having a roof over me. However, if the cave turns out to be the feeding grounds of fierce predators, I'm going to 'nope' right out of here.

Seeing no signs of life present in the cave is almost more suspicious than if there were signs. Instead of scattered bones, footprints, or even scat, there is nothing. It almost feels like the cave has been avoided by life altogether and the lingering stale air only further reinforces this thought. I brush the feeling aside and add home security to the list of things to do.

Shelter situation taken care of, I pause to consider my next steps.

I want to improve my shelter but don't feel that is necessary. I'm not even convinced I want to make the stale cave a long-term sleeping arrangement. If no one else wants it, why should I?

My current gear status is rough. My all-encompassing, incredibly durable loincloth and my new soft shoes are the only thing stopping me from frolicking in the forest naked. My arsenal isn't much to brag about either. However, that can be easily fixed thanks to the pale energy cycling through me.

What I need now and for the next foreseeable future is food. More specifically, I would like a way to obtain the tastier meats of the wild and wear their hides...Well...that came out rather dark. Still, food and clothing are what I need most. Both of which will require a bit of exploring to obtain.

Stepping out of the vacant den and into nature's kitchen, I examine my surroundings with a new purpose. With fish swimming up and down the stream, creating a trap using sticks wouldn't be difficult. Moving on from the pond, I gaze upon a fallen tree; nestled in its shade is an abundance of goldshrooms.

Walking through the trees near the pond, I gather several sticks for my fish trap. During the task, plenty of wild onions, bitterweeds, and oxalis are spotted—and to my great joy, some red berry bushes!

When Bones returns, I will be sure to properly thank him for finding a fantastic location. Maybe I shouldn't have sent him away like I did.

Oh well. We can count this as character growth for both of us.

Carefully using a bone knife, I whittle sharp points on the end of the sticks, preparing them for the trap. Only after I carve the last stick do I catch the foolishness of my ways.

I could have just summoned bone sticks. Another lesson learned.

Sticks prepared, I search for the best spot to place the trap in the stream. Ideally, my trap will be set in a narrower part of the stream where it will be easy to guide the fish into the corral without using an absurd amount of sticks.

The stream's flow is divided by a large rock not far from the pond. Jutting out of the water, the small boulder sits about two feet away from either shore. Using this barrier as part of my trap will effectively block off half of the stream. Perfect.

Finding the spot for my trap, I go to work. Appreciating the ease of using the initial rock inspires me to use more stones in the construction. Luckily for me, the stream is littered with usable rocks that are dreaming of serving a higher purpose. Gathering the ambitious stones, I set them aside to be used for my trap.

Building the trap is tricky. The big rock at the top of the trap works excellent as a starting point. From there, I place sizable rocks and sticks side by side in a slant downstream, acting as a wall, and do the same thing working off the shore. The two walls create a funnel from the rock leading to a tight, narrow entrance that is easy to get in and harder to get out.

Rocks and sticks are then used to create fence formation keeping the fish in a separate enclosed space from the stream. It is hard to get the stick posts to align at first. Everywhere I try to place a post, a rock would be in the way.

Stubbornness prevails as I dig the rocks out, clearing the ground for my sticks. Not letting my extra efforts and newly acquired resources go to waste, I use the additional stones to stabilize the posts.

Though tricky to set up, the trap configuration is simple. The large rock that I built my trap around obstructs the path of the fish swimming downstream, forcing them to swim right or left. Swimming to the left, the fish will follow my lined, narrowing path of rocks and sticks into a corral.

With an area of two feet, fish can swim freely in my corral. Once inside, jagged rocks and pointy sticks shoot out, crowding the exit dissuade fish from leaving. If set up correctly, the fish will swim into the corral, where they will remain until I catch them.

This trap could be a great passive food source. I am happy with my creation. I could do the same on the other side of the stream and increase my chances of catching fish, but that seems unfair to the fish. If things get desperate, I might change my mind. As it is now, I am not concerned about a lack of food.

Continuing with my trapping mindset, I spend the next couple of hours creating deadfall traps using mashed-up red berries as bait.

Sticks are used to hold up large rocks while also holding the bait. When a critter nibbles at the bait on the stick, the rock will fall, trapping the creature.

Building the traps took a reasonable amount of time. The sun is now on the decline, and I estimate I only have three hours of daylight left. Numerous traps set, I get back to foraging in the forest.

My plan of action is to gather some of the dandelions and then inspect the mushrooms. I'm careful to not over harvest the bitterweeds, being sure to only take what I need for the night. After gathering a couple handful of weeds, I move on to the mushrooms and then the wild onions, harvesting the bulbs of the larger onions.

Not particularly hungry, I drop the food off at my den and continue exploring and searching for more food sources.