Yesterday, I explored the north side of the pond and attempted to explore the cliff side a bit further west. Today I want to check out the south. My goal is still the same, gather resources, look for threats, and get to know my camp area better.

Food, tools, remarkable useful rocks, and maybe some clothes or something to make clothes with are at the top of my list of things I would like to find. Essentially, I'm searching for survivor basics.

A couple hours have gone by, the sun is beginning to set, and all I have to show for my exploration efforts is a real neat walking stick and some more forest food, mostly bitterweeds. I'm done with my expedition for the day and head back to camp.

South Pond Forest is much like North Pond Forest. Maybe, just maybe, it is an inch greener on this side. Maybe not. Shoot—I could even go as far as to say that it is similar to Lower Forest Camp and South forest. Trees are thick and plentiful, signs of animal life are abundant, and a lucrative amount of weeds are ready to be harvested and eaten.

Noticeably lacking are the fruit trees, bushes full of berries, or town. Even a village or a house would have been neat to see in the woods. Alas, the forest is as woody as the rest of the woods, devoid of all signs of civilization. Not that I was expecting to find people here. If anything, they are on the other side of the mountains.

Of course, they are on the other side of the mountain. Why would they be over here when they could be over there. That would have been convenient, saving me a trip through the abundantly thick upper woods and over the mountains, which apparently stand taller than the sky reaches.

"Lousy, inconvenient city locations are always placed on the other side of the mountains," I say aloud. Finally, letting myself indulge in some overdue cursing for the day. "What good are you over there when I need you over here. Good for nothing. That's what I say."

Cursing doesn't last long. Walking back to camp has been made abundantly easier by my sturdy walking stick, and it is hard to sour my mood. Even though it isn't a productive use of thoughts, I let my mind wander along with me.

As far as sticks go, this one is the prettiest, most straight stick I've had the pleasure to walk with. I'd even venture to say that this stick has been training its whole life so that it could serve this higher purpose. And now all the stick's hard work is paying off. Most likely beaming with brightness as it passes all the other sticks by.

Negative Nancy, those sticks are. "No, you're just a stick," They say. "You'll never walk," They say. "Your purpose is to rot and nourish the worms," They say, being ever so thorough, sticking it to the fallen branch with grandeur dreams.

"Foolish sticks," Shaking its rotting limbs back at them. "I only fell so that I could learn to walk." It says right back defiantly and hopeful as ever.

And that there is a lesson we can all learn from the stick. We, being me, my thoughts, and the sticks. The power of purpose..."Damn!" I curse, realizing I had been betrayed by my thoughts… and the stick. The stick is not innocent here…and now we are back to having a purpose, despite my best efforts to hang loose and live free.

What if I am happy to rot? Nourishing the forest isn't a lost cause. Why do I need a bigger purpose? I can drift through the rest of my life content that I can no longer bring harm to those close around me. No longer able to hurt or disappoint them.

My hollow thoughts fall silent on the unwelcoming forest floor. I know I can't stay here forever. As easy as this life is, it won't last long...I won't be satisfied with it for long. I am already beginning to question my sanity. Most of the time, I question if I am still dreaming or not. Fifty percent of the time, I am confident Bones is a figment of my imagination gone utterly wild.

If I'm honest with myself, which I'm not, I will grow tired of the solitude within months. If I haven't found people by then, I might not be able to recover from the toll this loneliness has been taking on me.

One can only hope that either Bones or I can come up with my own riveting purpose. Else we rot like sticks and become food for the worms. Life of wasted potential. Wandering deserts and cursing suns. …Maybe just finding others is enough…

"phew," I let out a dramatic breath-like sigh. "Betrayed by my own stick. Just because you strive for more doesn't mean the rest of us have to. We can be content with our lives here on the ground...level." This time it is my words that fall empty.

All things considered, this melodramatic trip into the fruit barren south lands was not an entire waste. I got a sturdy stick and a lecture on reaching potential. So maybe it was a half-win, half-lose scenario. A win-lose trip. Sort of like my trip up the steep hill yesterday.

Maybe the real lesson is don't go exploring if you aren't ready for discoveries? No, that is absurd. Nobody explores without the intention to discover.

Maybe the lesson is the more you know, the more lost you become. Too contrived. Much too much of a stretch.

Maybe there is no lesson, and I am just using this as a bridge to pull myself out of my head.

A rope! If you are going to go exploring, make sure you have rope.

Content with the takeaway, I leisurely stroll back home, admiring both my stick and my vast amounts of wisdom.

The rest of the evening goes smoothly. Bones finished quartering the hickory log he found. I collected a few more mushrooms, berries, and onions from North Pond Forest. Afterwards, I checked the fish trap, made repairs to it, and checked my deadfall traps. Both fish and deadfall traps were empty. I then retired to my cave to craft some items.

Dinner consists of sautéed greens and mushrooms and roasted weasel legs with red berry jam. All seasoned to taste. Complimenting my sophisticated forest dish, I prepare a chilled pine tea. The food is exquisitely edible. I will be sure to add this to the list of my growing recipes.

Tomorrow, I think I may try the same thing but with more of a soup twist. Soup is a real sophisticated dish. The kind of dish scholars and wizards eat at a fancy feast. Yeah, it's decided tomorrow is soup day, and my broth is nothing if not flavorful.

A camp chef! I was a renowned camp chef in my former life. Hence my knowledge of forest foods and comfort in camping settings. If you were camping, I was the chef you wanted. Even my practiced sword skills make sense since I usually had to play the part of a butcher as well. And customers love flashy knife skills.

Spin your knife a couple times while you are preparing your meal, and you will have your audience captivated. And, of course, I had an audience. Why would you hire a camp chef if you don't intend to watch him do his cheffing. Cheffing being an industry term used only by the highest quality camp chefs.

I was betrayed by the competition. Upset that I was getting the highest paid jobs, they set up a desert excursion. When I showed up, they ambushed me and left me to rot. A bunch of crooked butchers. Most of them probably camp in tents and consider rat meat a delicacy. Frauds and a disgrace to the arts.

I let myself indulge in some backstory layering while I eat. I might not have my memories, but I won't lack character if and when I meet someone. Being a renowned camp chef seeking to serve up the ultimate dish of revenge sounds pretty spicy too.

After dinner and fantastical plotting, I find myself with some free time. Without hesitation, I dive into my death mana.

First, I go over the steps I practiced this morning. Morning practice has paid off as my core acts more as a muscle than foreign energy. With the mana coursing through my body, I begin the next step of summoning. Tonight is about quantity. I want to know how many times I can summon my Bones consecutively.

Visualizing his form, I shape his form using my hands to direct the mana and summon my minion. As soon as he appears, I dismiss him and start the summoning. This practice will help me understand how many times I can summon in a row, give me a measurement of casting time, and the repetition is good. I complete the casting, and Bones reappears.

At three summonings, I notice that the mana is slightly more resistant to my command. The fourth time the resistance is more apparent. My final consecutive casting of the night, number seven, takes all my willpower to will the pale energy to comply.

Much like a muscle, cores and channels have their limits. Mine is at seven consecutive castings and around ten seconds to complete each summons. I can work with this. Now I want to test how long it takes for my core to recover. I dismiss Bones and wait for my soul to regain its strength.

An hour later, the strain is less severe. Figuring I recovered enough, I try unsuccessfully to summon Bones. I can, however, manage to summon smaller objects. After spending another hour hacking a quartered hickory staff into a bow, I try again. Still no success.

Thirty minutes later, I still get no results. For the sake of knowledge, I push through my extreme exhaustion, continuing to whittle and summon Bones.

Two more hours go by before I can summon Bones once more.

No longer able to keep my eyes open, I drift into sleep.

Instinctively my eyes snap open. My cave is dark, too dark. Our fire that was burning when I fell asleep is now out. Odd.

Staying very still, I listen for the eeriness that disrupted my sleep.

Deep heavy breathing or rather sniffing and slow steps can be heard outside of the den. Even in my dark den, I can feel a presence nearing the entrance. Large sets of feet indiscreetly scrape on the rocks that pave the entrance to the cave.

As quietly as possible, I get myself to my feet, bone knives in hand, and begin cycling my core. I don't want to summon bones...Wait, Bones was already summoned when I was falling asleep. Sure enough, I can feel the mana is still being used by my minion.

Silent and still, I wait in the dark of my cave, peering out into the night, trying to see my company.

Footsteps are growing louder, and the growls are more intense. Just outside the cave, I glimpse the massive animal as it dashes past the cave. Loose dust falls from above when the beast lets out a huge roar. Silence follows. The entire forest tries to stay unnoticed. Breaking the silence is the sound of crushing bones. Mana returns to my core.

Tightening my sweaty grip on my blades, I rush towards the entrance of my den. Fifteen feet. Ten. I'm close to the beast and closer to escaping from my trap. Then I see it. A massive bear-like creature covered in thick wooden plating turns back towards me and steps towards the entrance.

I'm almost out. All my strength and energy are directed in my legs. If I can get out, I have a chance. I'm about to escape when another ear-shaking roar pushes me back, nearly knocking me off my feet. Still roaring excessively, the beast pushes off its front feet and tries to stand.

The bear is easily twice my height and many times heavier, wide enough that it nearly covers the opening of my cave. It is only five feet away when it lands on all fours. It opens its fierce mouth showing its salivating daggers for teeth. Another roar is let loose, shaking the entire cave and causing rocks to fall. A small part of me wants to freeze in place, to become as still and small as possible.

Refusing to be stilled, daringly, I roar back and hurl my two daggers at its open maw. One is swatted away, and the other glances off the face of the plated bear, causing no damage. I summon a hefty spear and charge.

Closing the remaining distance between us, the bear lunges its proportionately oversized paw directly at me. Stabbing my spear into the beast, the bear's claws intercept my strike, shattering my weapon. I dodge to the right avoiding the bear's attack that overpowered my spear, and try to run past the hulking beast.

Avoiding the claw, I now have to avoid its follow-up attack from its mouth. I step against the wall, hugging it with my body. The quick positioning puts me out of range of the mouth for the moment.

Escape is my only plan of action.

I try to use the small moment I have to squeeze past the bear before it can attack again.

Halfway past the hulking beast, my luck runs out. Cleverly the beast body checks me into the side of the cave. My body hits hard, followed by an even harder hit to my head. Crushing weight is pinning me against the wall. This is bad. Slightly dazed, it is a miracle I'm still channeling mana.

Persistent and rude as ever, the armored bear continues to crush me with its weight, not giving me the space to escape. Panic and survival are overwhelming all my senses, urging me to move. However, there is no response from my lower half. In fact, I can't feel pain in my legs anymore.

Summoning a long dagger, I plunge it into the back of the bear, drawing out a wild, angry roar that explodes through the cave. Now it applies even more weight. Sounds of cracking ribs are drowned out by heavy growling, followed by more falling rocks.

Mouth open and snarling, the bear turns its head toward me and tries to bite any part of my body. Another dagger is summoned, and I am bringing the blade down with all my strength. Quicker than I thought possible, the bear releases its body pressure. My knife is about to land; however, the beast instantly lashes out with its mouth and bites down on my arm. Bone cracks.

Pain and nausea rush through me. I want to scream. I don't even get the chance to do that. Holding my mangled arm in its mouth, the bear whips its head to the left, pulling me along. I try desperately to maintain my feet. It's a foolish attempt. A massive claw swipes at my face and neck as I am whipped across the cave.

Pain significantly lessens. Falling rocks can be heard splattering the ground. Breath stops coming. Conscience is lost. Life fades away.