Amukelo woke with a groan, his muscles still aching from the exertions of the past few days. The faint light of dawn filtered through the cracks in the makeshift wall he had built, and the cave was cold, but he felt safe. For the first time in what felt like ages, he allowed himself a slower morning. There were no immediate dangers pressing down on him, and for now, he could focus on survival without the constant weight of fear.
As he stretched his arms, his eyes landed on the beaver pelts he had set to dry the night before. Their smaller size made them much easier to work with compared to the hog's thick hide, and he could already tell that they were ready for use. Amukelo rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them as he considered his plan for the day. He would make something useful out of the pelts—a small belt bag to carry essentials, and a water bag for longer journeys.
He sat by the fire, which had burned down to embers overnight, and carefully stoked it back to life with some of the smaller sticks he had collected. As the flames grew, he retrieved the first beaver pelt and laid it out flat on the cave floor. He took his dagger, now dulled slightly from all the work it had seen, and began cutting the pelt into smaller sections. He worked slowly, making sure not to waste any material. The process was tedious, but Amukelo didn't mind; the monotony gave his mind a chance to wander, and for once, his thoughts weren't consumed by survival alone.
After several hours of careful cutting and stitching with sinew threads, he finished the small belt bag. It was a crude creation, far from anything a skilled leatherworker might produce, but it was functional. He tied it securely to his belt and tested its capacity, placing a few small tools and his sharpening stone inside. Satisfied with his work, he moved on to the second project: a water bag.
This task was more challenging. The beaver's hide was pliable, but Amukelo needed to create a seal to ensure the water wouldn't leak. He shaped the hide into a pouch, stitching the edges tightly with sinew, but he realized he lacked a proper stopper for the opening. A piece of wood, carved to fit snugly, would do the trick, but he didn't have one on hand. With the sun still high in the sky, he decided to venture out to find what he needed.
Gathering his things, Amukelo left the cave and began descending the mountain. He kept away from coming lower, wary of going too far down where goblins might be lurking. As he moved through the forest, he kept an eye out for suitable firewood as well as the specific piece of wood he needed for the water bag. He wanted something dense and solid, yet small enough to be carved into a proper stopper.
After some time, Amukelo reached a clearing in the forest, where the trees gave way to open grassland. He crouched low, scanning the area for any signs of danger. Just as he was about to step into the clearing, he heard a deep, rhythmic thumping that made the ground beneath him tremble slightly. His heart skipped a beat as he froze in place.
Peering through the underbrush, Amukelo spotted the source of the noise: a troll walking through the clearing with a group of goblins trailing behind it. The goblins chattered among themselves. The troll carried a large club over its shoulder.
He stayed perfectly still, watching the group from his hidden vantage point. They were moving higher up the mountain, likely drawn by the events of the past few days. Amukelo cursed under his breath, realizing that his actions might have inadvertently pushed the goblins closer to his territory. "Tsk... they're more active up here now," he murmured to himself. "I'll have to avoid this side of the mountain for a while. Maybe the other side of the mountain is safer."
Once the group had passed, Amukelo quietly retreated into the forest. He resumed his search for firewood and the perfect piece of wood for his water bag stopper. By the time he returned to his cave, the sun was already dipping lower in the sky. He set down his findings and resumed his work, carving the small piece of wood into a tapered shape that fit snugly into the opening of the water bag. It was a slow process, but by the time the sun began to set, he had completed the project. The water bag wasn't perfect, but it would serve its purpose well enough.
The next morning, Amukelo woke with a sense of purpose. He decided to spend the day hunting, both to replenish his food supply and to distract himself from the tension of the previous days. With his belt bag and water bag securely attached, he descended the mountain, this time heading toward the other side. This side of the mountain was less forested, with patches of open ground that made it easier to see potential threats from a distance. The terrain was rougher, but Amukelo found it oddly calming.
As he moved through the sparse trees, he spotted a mountain goat grazing near the edge of a rocky outcrop. It was the perfect target—large enough to provide several days' worth of food, but not so large that it would be difficult to carry back to the cave. Amukelo crouched low, moving slowly and deliberately to avoid startling the animal. He drew one of his daggers, the blade catching the morning light as he prepared to strike.
The goat noticed him just as he was about to throw. It bolted, leaping gracefully over the rocks, but Amukelo was ready. He hurled his dagger, striking the animal in the side. The goat stumbled, its movements faltering as it tried to escape, but Amukelo was already closing the distance. He reached the animal and delivered a swift, merciful blow with his sword to end its suffering.
Amukelo dragged the goat back up the mountain, his muscles straining under the weight. He skinned the goat carefully, setting the hide aside to dry, and began preparing the meat for cooking.
As the sun set, casting warm hues across the mountain, Amukelo leaned back against the wall of the cave. He watched the flames and listened to the crackle of the fire, feeling a rare sense of contentment. The cave, with its sturdy walls and makeshift door, felt like a sanctuary amidst the chaos of the mountain.
Amukelo's days in the cave had passed slowly but productively. After the fight with the griffin and his close encounter with the troll, he focused on rest and recovery. Each morning, he would wake to the faint light filtering through the cracks in his makeshift door, his body still aching but feeling stronger with each passing day. The firewood he had collected earlier was stacked neatly near the entrance.
He spent his days tending to small tasks, like sharpening his weapons with the stone he carried or checking the durability of his water bag and belt pouch. He also used some leftover scraps of hide to fashion a small sling for carrying firewood more efficiently in the future.
After a few days, Amukelo felt confident enough to venture farther. He packed his small makeshift bag with dried meat and filled his water bag at a nearby stream, securing both items tightly to his belt. As he stood at the entrance to his cave, he looked out at the sunlit peaks and valleys ahead. It was time to explore the side of the mountain he had avoided so far.
The descent from his cave was steep, and Amukelo moved cautiously. The crisp mountain air was colder than usual, contrasting to the warmth of his cave. His breath came out in visible puffs. The terrain on this side of the mountain was less familiar, and the thought of encountering goblins or worse kept his senses sharp.
As he moved farther down, the forest began to thin, the trees becoming more sparse. The scent of pine faded, replaced by the dry, almost metallic smell of the barren terrain ahead. Amukelo paused briefly to take a sip from his water bag. He scanned the area, noting the lack of animal tracks or signs of life. It was strange—no vegetation, no bones, no signs of predators or prey. It made the open space feel unnervingly empty, yet oddly intriguing.
Amukelo approached the edge of the barren valley cautiously. The contrast between the lush mountain forest and the desolate terrain was stark, like stepping into an entirely different world. The ground was cracked and dry, the earth a pale, almost ashen color. Jagged rocks jutted out at odd angles, and the silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional gust of wind that whistled through the valley.
Despite his wariness, curiosity drove Amukelo forward. He kept to the shadows of the rocks, his movements slow and deliberate. His instincts screamed at him to turn back, but he pressed on, determined to understand this strange part of the mountain. He made his way to the base of the next mountain, where the terrain began to rise again.
Then, without warning, a loud, thunderous noise shattered the silence. Amukelo froze, his heart pounding in his chest. The sound was distant but unmistakably powerful, like the rumble of a massive boulder crashing down the mountain. He quickly ducked behind a large rock, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his sword.
Peering out cautiously, Amukelo's breath caught in his throat. Across the far side of the valley, something massive was moving. A towering figure, at least fifty feet tall, lumbered through the barren landscape. It was a golem, its body made of jagged stone and covered in cracks that glowed faintly with an eerie, molten light. Each step it took shook the ground, sending small tremors through the valley. Its movements were slow but deliberate, and its size made it seem almost invincible.
Amukelo trembled as he watched the golem. He had never seen anything like it before. The sheer scale of the creature was overwhelming, and he knew that if it spotted him, he wouldn't stand a chance. He held his breath, his body pressed tightly against the rock as if that alone could make him invisible. The golem turned slightly, its glowing eyes scanning the terrain, but it didn't seem to notice him. After what felt like an eternity, it began to move in a direction that led away from where he was hiding.
Amukelo let out a shaky exhale, his hands trembling as he gripped his sword tightly. "What was that?" he whispered to himself. "I've never seen anything like it... If I encounter that, there's no doubt I'm dead."
The realization sent a chill down his spine, but he forced himself to focus. The golem was moving away, and the sun was still high in the sky. He decided to press on, reasoning that the creature's path wouldn't intersect with his. Still, his nerves were on edge as he resumed his climb up the mountain.
As he ascended, the terrain grew even harsher. The barren ground gave way to jagged rocks and narrow paths that forced Amukelo to watch every step carefully. When he finally reached a higher vantage point, he paused to catch his breath and survey the land beyond. What he saw made him hesitate.
The other side of the mountain was just as unforgiving as the valley he had crossed. The terrain stretched out in jagged, lifeless expanses, with no sign of vegetation or water. It was a harsh and unwelcoming sight, and yet, something about it intrigued him. The mountain seemed to hold secrets, and Amukelo couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to discover.