Harry was in his kitchen, books spread out on his kitchen table, taking notes from one of the maths books Hestia had given him. Sometimes, he got involved in other projects – cooking an elaborate dish, learning from Zoë or from Artie – but he still tried to get in some regular schooling every day.
Sometimes he got Hestia to help him. Truth be told, ever since she had taught him the basics of reading, writing, and maths, he thought he had been doing pretty well learning by himself.
At least, until he asked Hestia for help and it showed where his interests were. Those subjects he liked, like science and history, he was very good at. Those he didn't, like mathematics, he wasn't so good at. So he tried to do his best to keep up on those subjects.
So here he was, doing his sums and subtractions. And multiplications. And divisions.
The fireplace in the living area whooshed, and Harry looked up, watching his all-time favorite goddess walk to wards him.
He got up from the table, smiling widely at her. "Hestia!" he said, giving her a big hug.
"Hello, Harry," the kind goddess greeted back. Looking at the books and notes on the table, her smile turned pleased. "Working on your maths?"
Harry nodded. "It's boring, though."
"Sometimes we have to do things we don't like doing," the Goddess of the Home said, gently. "Think of it like doing the dishes."
"I prefer doing dishes to doing maths," Harry pouted.
Hestia laughed softly. "I think very few people would argue with you, Harry," she answered. The goddess started to sit down and looked around the kitchen as she did so. She froze halfway down, then stood up again.
"Harry?" she asked, her voice deceptively soft. Harry froze; he didn't like that tone directed at him.
"Yes, Hestia?" he asked, confused and concerned.
"Why is there a bottle of amaretto on the kitchen counter, and why is it not full?" she asked, pointing to said bottle. "I do believe I explained that I preferred you did not drink."
Harry smiled, and went to his refrigerator. "Because I've been cooking!" he said, pulling the door to the appliance open. Hestia, at his shoulder, peered inside.
On the bottom shelf stood half a dozen individually-sized containers of tiramisu. "I made desserts!" he finished, pointing to said containers.
Hestia eyeballed them for a moment, then looked at him. "While that dessert does indeed often contain alcohol like rum or amaretto, it can be made without it," she stated.
Harry took out a serving, and held it out. "It wouldn't be tiramisu without it," he protested softly. "Will you try one?"
Hestia sighed softly, and accepted. "Do you know why I requested you do not drink?" he asked.
Harry shrugged. "Because I'm 'too young'?" he asked in return, placing obvious quotes.
Hestia's lips twitched. "No, Harry. I'm from ancient Greece. All of us gods are. In our time, water was tainted, so alcohol was added to make it safe. Usually, fives measures of water to two measures of alcohol – mostly wine. No, Harry, the reason I asked you to stop drinking is because these days, alcohol is drank in a pure form. Drinking alcohol without diluting it leads to alcoholism. That is why I asked you not to drink."
"Oh," Harry said. "So if I put it in water, it'd be ok?"
Hestia sighed. "I would still prefer it if you didn't," she replied, conjuring a small spoon and trying some of the treat she was holding. Her eyes widened. She looked at the dessert. "Harry?" she asked, her voice low again.
"Yes, Hestia?" Harry replied, worried he'd done something wrong.
"Did you add ambrosia to this?" she asked.
Harry offered a tentative smile. "Just a pinch. I grated it really fine, until it's a powder, then sprinkled some in to enhance the flavor. It works brilliantly." Now that he thought about it, it had been several months since he first added ambrosia to the cookies he made for Zoë, and he never did get around to tell Hestia about his invention.
Hestia ate some more tiramisu. "Yes," she said, "It does work well." She drew a breath, then released it. "Two things. First of all, I am extremely proud of you for figuring that out. Ambrosia is both an ingredient and a condiment, and can be used either way. I am very proud of you for figuring out the alternative use for it."
"Thanks, Hestia!" Harry said, smiling widely.
The goddess in question went on. "Second, please refrain from using it often. It isn't a problem for us gods, but as I explained before, there is only so much ambrosia a demigod can tolerate each day. It is the reason why most of the recipes I have given you do not include it. You may, inadvertently, go over the daily safe limit for a demigod. Especially as you grow older, and may need ambrosia or nectar to heal. Ingesting additional ambrosia, even in small quantities, may trigger an adverse reaction."
"Oh," Harry said, suddenly feeling a lot less proud of himself.
"Don't worry, Harry. Using ambrosia as a condiment isn't likely to trigger reactions, but the possibility exists. I simply ask that you be careful." She smiled at him. "And as I said, I am extremely proud of you for figuring out that ambrosia is a seasoning as well as an ingredient."
Harry just offered her a tiny smile.
"Now, back to liquor. Using it in cooking is fine. I simply wish for you to be careful with it. Alcohol did a lot of good back in the day, but it did a lot of bad, too. Like ambrosia, now that I think about it. Please be careful."
The young boy relaxed. "Thanks, Hestia."
"Now, you seemed to have made more dessert than you can handle by yourself," the goddess teased. "Are you cooking for someone else?"
Harry suddenly nodded enthusiastically. "Artie and Miss Zoë love my cooking, so I sometimes bring them something when I go for training. I only brought cookies for Miss Zoë that first time, but Artie's pouting made me bring something for her, too, the next time I made something."
Hestia burst out laughing. "I could see my niece pout at not getting desserts," the Goddess of the Home said, still snickering. "I would wager she wasn't very gracious about it, either."
Harry shook his head. "She guilted Miss Zoë into giving her some. That's why I started making things for both of them."
Hestia smiled and patting his arm. "I am glad to see that you get along with both of them, and that you have found the joys of cooking for others."
Harry nodded again. "I love it when they enjoy the things I make," he said.
Hestia gave him a very pleased smile, when turned a little less sunny when she thought of something. "Although I do think I will have a small chat with my niece and her lieutenant, just to make sure they're not taking advantage of you."
Harry shook his head. "I don't think they are. I love cooking and baking, and they love eating what I make."
Hestia smiled softly, and patted his shoulder. "I'll just make sure."
"Speaking of Zoë and Artie," Harry said, "I probably won't be home for the next week or so."
Hestia had finished her treat, and was now focused on the young boy. "Are you going on a trip?" she asked, her lips twitching into a teasing smile. "I didn't think Artie or Zoë would go for a vacation with boys."
Harry shook his head. "Miss Zoë has said that she has taught me a lot in the last couple of months, and it's time for me to show that I was paying attention. So, she's taking me to a forest for a week, and I have to show her that I can survive. She'll be with me, but I'll need to pitch the tent, find water, make a fire, and find food all on my own. I'll have the standard pack used by Artie's Hunters, so I'll have all the equipment I need, but I'll still need to find food and water and stuff."
"I see," Hestia replied, smiling gently. "Thank you for letting me know, I would have been quite worried had I thought you disappeared. I'm sure you'll do well."
Harry grinned.
"I must have that chat with Artie and her lieutenant first, however," Hestia said, standing up from the table. "Just making sure they know I am looking out for you, of course."
Harry just nodded, trotting after her as she walked calmly to the hearth. "Please don't be angry with them, Hestia," he finally said. "I just like brining desserts and stuff. They're not making me do anything, I promise."
Hestia smiled, and patted his shoulder. "You are kind, Harry. You don't have to worry, I just wanted to make sure. Good luck on your… exam," she finished, and walked through the fire.
Harry pouted after her, he didn't want to be reminded of the fact that his camping trip was an actual exam.
He turned back to his books and studied for a few more hours, before he went to pack his bag. It didn't contain much, as he'd be getting an actual Hunter's backpack with equipment. He only packed some of his school books, to keep making Hestia proud, and some toiletries.
He started to walk to the hearth, then suddenly remembered the tiramisu he'd made. Taking two individual portions from his refrigerator, he carried them through the fire to the Hunters' camp.
As usual, when he arrived through the fire, he found the Hunters startling, and more than a few bows were put away when they realized it was him. Except for Phoebe, she kept her bow out for a bit longer, just to make sure he had seen it.
He wondered when she would stop hating him that much, before ignoring her behavior, and approaching Artie and Zoë, who were standing not far away, apparently engrossed in a discussion. Zoë was the first to notice him, and the conversation stopped immediately.
He smiled widely at him, and gave his second-favorite goddess a one-armed hug. "Hi Artie, hi Miss Zoë," he greeted them both, before holding out the small containers. "I brought dessert. Oh, and Hestia seems to think that you're making me cook. I don't know why."
Artemis, goddess of the Hunt, Immortal Man-Hater, hugged him back and eagerly took the top container. "Hello, Harry," she greeted back. "And thank you."
Zoë simply greeted him with a dignified nod, and accepted her portion. "Lady Hestia visited earlier. We reassured her."
Harry pouted. "I asked her not to be angry, and told her I love cooking and baking."
"She's merely looking out for three," Zoë reassured him. "'T was but a minor issue."
Harry put his pack down, and looked at Zoë, who was eagerly eating her dessert. "Hug?" he offered.
The Lieutenant of the Hunters stopped eating, and eyed him. "Nay," she declined. She'd gotten used to him offering hugs over the couple of months that she had been training him, and now no longer glared at him.
Artie seemed amused at the by-play. She, too, had gotten used to Harry's offers, and once she realized that the boy really wouldn't act without Zoë's approval, had become amused rather than angry.
"Art thou ready for thy test?" Zoë asked Harry, ignoring her Lady's amusement with ease of long exposure.
Harry nodded hesitantly. "I hope so, Miss Zoë. I have my notebook."
"I'm sure Zoë won't let you die," Artie said, smiling. "Suffer, yes. But not die. Pain's a good teacher, after all."
Harry pouted when Zoë laughed softly, which of course made her laugh harder. His pout turned into a small smile, Zoë didn't laugh all that often, and he liked it when she did.
"Miss Zoë's great," he told Artie. "I'm sure that she'll help me if I need it. I'm sure it'll be great fun."
The Hunter shook her head slightly. "'T is a test of thy ability, 't wouldn't be much of one if I did it for thee. Thou must do this thyself, following what My Lady and I have taught thee. I shall prevent thee from perishing, but I shall not aid thee unless absolutely necessary."
Harry grinned. "Alright, Miss Zoë."
"Shall we depart?" she asked-slash-told Harry. He just nodded.
"My Lady," Zoë said, dipping her head to her goddess in goodbye before handing her the empty container she still had in her hands.
Harry grinned, hugged Artie, and said, "Bye, Artie."
The Goddess of the Hunt hugged him back, patted his shoulder with her free hand, and walked away, shaking her head, holding the stacked and empty containers. She'd make sure they were clean and sent back – after all, she wanted Harry to cook more delicious desserts.
Harry followed Zoë to the supply tent, where he picked out one of the spare packs, and adjusted the straps with ease of long practice. Ever since Zoë had shown him that first time he went out with her, he'd been practicing it.
Then came his first problem. He had a small pack with his school books and his own supplies, and the large Hunter's pack with all the survival supplies, the tent, and so forth. "Ehm," he muttered, staring at the two packs and trying to find a way to put one in the other.
Zoë just stood there, amused, not offering any words or suggestions.
Harry knew the Hunter's pack itself was full, he'd repacked it often enough. Luckily for him, the pack also had lots of pockets that were left empty – to allow for carrying additional supplies. He squeezed the toiletries in the pockets, and shifted some of the smaller items around from one pocket to another so he had enough free space to put in his books.
"Done!" he said, grinning, proud of himself.
Zoë just dipped her head, then said, "Art thou done stalling for time?"
Harry pouted at her, knowing her well enough after months of lessons to know when she was teasing him.
"Let us be off, then," the Hunter said, paying his pout not mind. She, too, had gotten used to him, and his pout no longer affected her.
They left camp. Harry looked around, trying to figure out where the camp was located this time. As they started walking, the boy frowned, and looked over his shoulder. The camp had seemingly vanished.
He looked at the back of Zoë Nightshade; trying to figure out of she had something to do with this, when he suddenly realized they were in a forest. A mountainous forest.
"What… ?" he managed, before stopping himself.
Zoë answered him regardless, her voice amused. "As part of the boon granted to us Hunters by our Lady, we are able to travel great distances quickly. It has its limits, as we must know exactly where we are going, but it has its uses."
"Oh… okay," Harry said, looking at the forest that was now thick and dark around him. "So, where are we?" he asked innocently.
Zoë laughed. "'t was a good try, but this is a test."
Harry grinned. "You can't blame me for trying."
"Indeed not," Zoë replied, still amused. Suddenly, the forest gave way, and they were in a very large clearing, covered with knee-high greens of all shapes and sizes. "This is where I stop guiding thee," she noted seriously. "However, before I do so – here," she said, holding out a hunting knife in a sheath. "Attach this to thy belt."
Harry smiled widely. "Thanks, Miss Zoë!" he said loudly, accepting the knife. He knew better than to be without a belt; even if he didn't need one, a belt was useful for a lot of things. He attached the sheath quickly and easily.
Zoë gave a sharp nod when he finished. "Consider this me abandoning thee. From here on out, 't is up to thee to survive."
Harry looked around. "Okay," he muttered, suddenly feeling a lot less confident about his chances. He had hoped to be dropped in a forest he knew, or one he had been to before. This was definitely a new forest, especially as the mountains were not familiar to him.
He dropped the pack he was carrying, and dug the compass out of one of the pockets. He oriented it, then sighed, and put it away. Knowing which way was north wouldn't help him in this situation. He was 'lost', and this was a test of survival, not one of him finding civilization.
First priority, find water. He looked around, then closed his eyes. He didn't hear the trickling of water. He opened his eyes again. The sky was overcast, low and dark and ominous, and Harry frowned up at it. If it started raining, he'd be in even more trouble.
He identified a spot that he thought looking like it was downhill, and started walking. For close to an hour, he walked through the thick forest, the ground uneven.
The overcast sky suddenly let loose with thunder and lightning – and copious amount of rain. Harry bit back a curse as the cold and wet hit him – Hestia didn't like bad language, and she was the last person Harry wanted to offend.
So he bit back on his language, found a halfway decent spot, and hurriedly pitched his tent. Zoë, his ever-present shadow, was dressed warmly in thick winter clothing with a hood thrown over her head to stave off the rain. He wished he had similar equipment. Her ten was up before his was, and he shot her a look. She merely grinned at her self-pitching tent.
Harry tried dragging some twigs and branches together to start a fire. The fire started, thanks to his Hestia-taught skills, but it sputtered out immediately thanks to the torrential rain. Harry guessed Muster Zeus was definitely taking his anger out on him right now.
He crawled into his tent, and spread out his sleeping bag. Without a fire, the tent was damp and cold, but the sleeping bag kept him off the freezing ground. He crawled into it after shedding most of his cold and wet clothing. He shivered, despite the heavy insulation of both tent and sleeping bag.
His head was hurting slightly; his mouth was dry. He was dehydrated, not having drank anything for quite a while and having exerted himself quite badly. He listened to the downpour, and debated whether it would be worth it to capture any of the rain.
The best he had was his canteen or his cup, which wouldn't capture anything in any sort of timescale where it would be useful. So he tried to sleep.
He managed some half-asleep dreaming, where his body was in a constant state of readiness. By the time he crawled out of his tent the next morning, he felt like he may as well not have slept at all. Luckily, the thunderstorm had passed.
He re-ignited the firewood he had dragged together the evening before, and crawled next to it to warm up. Zoë, as if smelling he was up, came out of her tent and collapsed it back into a pack of gum.
"'T is extraordinary how good thou art at making fire," she commented, sitting down on the other side of it.
"Hestia taught me to make fire," Harry commented. "If there's anyone good at makikng fire, it's the Goddess of the Hearth."
Zoë dipped her head, acknowledging his comment.
When the worst of the cold had leeched out of his bones, Harry sighed, and started breaking down his tent and repacking his bag. When he had done so, he stopped the fire with a wave of his hand. He sighed, looked around, and started walking in what he thought was downhill. The slope was gentle, so gentle that he hardly recognized it.
After a bit of walking, he reached a small clearing. In it, was something that made him smile.
Blueberries!
There weren't a lot of them, as birds like them too. He found maybe two hands full, but it was better than nothing and they made a decent breakfast.
Keeping on his course, he suddenly heard the trickling of water. Grinning, he increased his pace, finding a small stream trickling down. Grinning widely, he knelt down. For a moment, he debated on boiling the water, before reaching down and drinking. He was just so thirsty!
The first water in 24 hours felt so good going down that he drank deeply and greedily.
After drinking his fill, he trekked back just a few minutes, making sure that he was high enough not to be inundated in case of floods. After pitching his tent, he decided that he wasn't going to be without a fire if the weather acted up again, so he started making a sort-of roof to keep his fire under.
He had to make sure it was high enough so it wouldn't catch on fire itself, and it took his several hours to finish.
When Harry finished his task, he stepped back and looked at his construction. His stomach growled, he was hungry. He'd only eaten a couple of hands of blueberries, nowhere near enough. However, he was used to being hungry and right now, he needed to gather firewood.
Having done so, and starting his fire, he realized that the sun was already setting. It was going tobe dark in an hour or so. He sighed, search for, and found, some spruce trees, and gathered two handfuls of spruce needles.
Filling his canteen at the stream, he used it to make himself a cup of spruce needle tea. He was still hungry, but at least the needle tea would give him some nutrients. It tasted really good, too – like how a Christmas tree smelled.
When the sun set, Harry stoked up the fire to heat up his tent. Leaving one side open to the fire, he went to sleep. That night, he slept like a log, despite his hunger.
He woke up the next morning still hungry, and shivering. The fire had run out of fuel during the night and he hadn't had the energy to gather more.
And so, he gathered more firewood. He could do without food for a while longer, but he needed fire to keep himself warm. The mountains were freezing cold at night.
As he gathered firewood, he had drifted back to the clearing he had crossed on his way down. His eyes fell on something, and Harry smiled faintly. He'd reached the stage where his body had gone into a hyper-alert state in an effort to assist him in finding food.
Slowly, he dropped the firewood he was carrying, and approached his prey.
His hand snatched out. The butterfly had no chance and disappeared in his mouth before it realized what had happened. It wasn't much, but every bit of protein helped. He picked up the firewood again, and started collecting more.
As he drifted along the sides of the clearing, he noticed some of the plants growing there.
Curly Dock. It was edible, as long as the leaves and stems were young. The root had medicinal purposes, but you couldn't eat too much of it or you'd get stomach cramps. Picking the plants, and digging up the roots, Harry proceeded to take them back to his campsite.
Heavily laden with wood and plants, Harry stumbled back into his campsite, and he immediately set to stoking a fire. Baking the dock roots, he ate some of the dock leaves and stems. They tasted bitter, he didn't like them much.
The baked dock roots tasted even worse, and if he hadn't known for sure they were edible, he never would have eaten them. But he was so hungry, and used to eating whatever was available, so Harry didn't complain and just ate.
With his stomach full of dock roots, he sat back to enjoy the fire and his surroundings. Now that he was warm, and not hungry, he had time to enjoy the beauty of the forest.
Suddenly, his stomach cramped.
He raced to the latrine pit. The diarrhea attack was not fun, and it left him feeling weak and dizzy. He wobbled his way back to camp.
Zoë eyed him, yet said nothing.
"To much dock root, I suppose," Harry told her. She remained quiet, but he was aware that her gaze was locked tightly on him. It wasn't reassuring.
Ten minutes later, the attack came again.
When he got back, he managed to make some pine needle tea, and sip from it. He felt incredibly ill now, and part of him wished he could call this off.
He looked at Zoë. She looked compassionate. He wanted to give up. He wanted to go back to the temple. He wanted his bed. He wanted Hestia.
He sighed, feeling his intestines crawl into a knot. He raced back to the latrine pit.
When he got back, Harry grumped to himself. There was no way he was going to give up. No stupid dock root would keep him down.
He crawled into his tent and slept. It was feverish, filled with nightmarish dreams, and when he got up, his stomach was burbling angrily. No more dock roots. Ever. He pitched out the couple he had left; eating them would be worse than not eating them.
He had to find food. Real food.
As he foraged for food, he found something that made his blood ran cold. Bear scat. Fresh bear scat.
Wherever he was… there were bears. He looked at Zoë, as if to confirm what he had found out. She remained impassive, but something in her eyes told him that yes, he had identified the droppings correctly.
He was still feeling ill from the stupid dock roots, but he had to stay sharp. He drew a breath, and tried to banish the feeling of illness. It didn't work, of course, but it was better than nothing.
Suddenly, he spotted a deer across a clearing. He sighed. Hunting was out; Artie kept the bow she gave him when they trained, and there was no way he'd be able to build his own and get good enough with it todo anything useful.
That meant trapping.
He scouted around, and found a trail; there didn't appear to be any other humans around, so the trail was definitely made by large animals. Finding a spot where the trail seemed to narrow, Harry looked around for useful items.
Using some string from his pack, he constructed a large-animal spring trap, connected to a pressure plate that was hidden by twigs and leaves. An animal would step on the plate, and a nearby sapling spruce would spring up, yanking the animal's leg and trapping it.
He studied his trap for a few moments, trying to make sure it was well hidden, before the gurgle of his stomach reminded him of his hunger. He had to eat now, he couldn't wait for the trap to trigger and catch something.
He retreated back to one of the clearings he had found. The sun was out, and the warmth felt good on him. For a moment, he stopped, drew himself to his full, not-very-impressive height, and basked in the warmth.
Then his current mission reminded him. He shot the sun a smile, and went looking for something to eat.
"Stupid grasshoppers," he muttered when he saw one jump from one plant to the next. He blinked. "Grasshoppers?"
He couldn't be picky; that lesson had been drilled into him from an early age. And grasshoppers were definitely edible. Half an hour later, he had caught maybe a dozen and a half of them, and skewered them on a long twig he had found.
He roasted them over the fire, and ate them with gusto. They tasted delicious. And with their hard shells, they crunched like potato chips. He made himself a cup of nettle tea to go with his meal, sat back, and relaxed. He'd finally had something to eat, and had some time to relax. He felt better, the dock root had finally run its course, apparently.
The next morning, he go up feeling as if he had been reborn. Drawing a deep breath to fill his lung with clean air from the mountainous forest, Harry smiled. So far, survival had been a whole lot tougher, and whole lot harder, than he had imagined. But now, now he finally started to feel like he had a chance, like he was starting to get a grip on things.
He grinned; time to take a bath. After five days, he definitely needed it.
Walking down to the creek, he turned to look at Zoë. "I'm going to have a bath and wash up."
The Hunter blinked, dipped her head, and ghosted into the forest. For a few moments, Harry stared in the direction she had vanished, suspicious that she was watching from a location he hadn't could see.
Finally, he shrugged. There wasn't anything he could do about it if she did. He undressed, jumped into the cold water, and washed the grime of five days of living in the woods off of his skin. Dragging his clothes through the water, he did his best to get the grime off them as well.
He hung them out to dry before splashing back in the stream. For just a little time, he was going to forget he was on a survival test, and he was going to enjoy himself. Zoë had explained how it was important to keep your spirits up when in a survival situation – so that was what he was going to do.
Half an hour later, shivering and wrinkled, Harry shimmied back into his still-damp clothing. At least they weren't completely wet anymore. He walked back to camp, and sat close to the fire to dry out. While he was doing that, he had taken a large branch, chopped a chunk off of it, and was now whittling a point to one end in an effort to make a spear. He didn't know why – the feeling in his gut was that he would need it.
Since that feeling had also brought him to Hestia on Mount Olympus, he had stopped doubting it.
"Thou seems cleaner," Zoë noted as she sat down on the other side of the fire, watching him whittle his spear.
He grinned at her. "When I'm done here, I'm going to check the trap; Just in case you wanted to have a wash."
The Hunter looked amused. "We Hunters have our secrets," she said mysteriously.
"Aw, that's so unfair! Self-pitching tents, now, mysterious ways to wash without washing!" he complained playfully.
Zoë was definitely amused now. "Thou knowest the price. Allow My lady to turn thee female, and thou canst learn these secrets for thyself."
Harry finished whittling and studied the tip. He nodded, and held it in the fire to harden the wood. Keeping his eyes on his task, he said, "Only if I get to turn back if I change my mind."
Zoë remained silent as he worked. Finally, she said, "Unfortunate. Thou would make an excellent addition to the Hunters. Thou wouldst be my little sister, then."
Harry finished his spear, and shook his head. "You're my friend now, Miss Zoë." He looked at her, only to see that she had vanished. He sighed, it had been the longest conversation he had with her since this test started. Maybe she had been feeling lonely – he knew he was.
Taking his new spear, he started trekking towards the trap. He had low expectations, despite the feeling in his gut. Traps rarely worked out so quickly.
To his surprise, when he approached it, he heard squealing and snorting. He knelt down and looked through the bushes.
His trap had caught a boar. A younger one, so to see – it definitely wasn't 80 centimeters tall, nor did it weigh 100 kilos. It still looked angry, squealing and snorting as it yanked angrily at the cordage tying it to the sapling. Harry was glad he had picked a sturdy-looking sapling for his trap, as that boar definitely looked like it could pull the tree out if it got angry enough.
Harry approached cautiously. The boar turned on three legs, one of them still off the ground, held by the tree, and snorted at him.
Raising his new spear, Harry studied his target, trying to make it a clean kill. Zoë and Artie both had insisted on proper reverence for his prey, and he was determined to make it quick so the animal didn't suffer.
Aiming for the heart, Harry thrusted. The sharpened stick drew a deep scratch in the wild pig's skin as it basically bounced off the thick hide. The boar squealed angrily and yanked ferociously at the trap.
Something had to give, and the young sapling was the thing to give. With the cord still tied to its foot, but now free, the boar charged Harry, who let out a very undignified yelp and dropped his spear in surprise.
He jumped aside, grabbing the boar as it raced past, and tried to hold on to it. The pig thrashed, rolling over the ground to throw Harry off, then charged again. Trying desperately to stay away from that mouth with sharp-looking tusks, Harry grabbed hold of the beast's neck, and tried to keep his body parts away from the front of the beast. He was fighting for his life, now.
"Remember thy knife, boy!" he heard a female voice shout.
Harry grunted, reached with one hand to his knife, unfixed the clasp, grabbed the weapon, and thrust it savagely into the boar's neck. It squealed once, then fell.
Harry stayed on his back, panting, staring at the skies. His body hurt.
"Thou made thy first kill, and in a personal manner," Zoë noted, staring down at him.
Harry just nodded, looking at his hands, now covered in the pig's blood. He swallowed deeply.
"Using a ranged weapon would have been easier," she noted, still looking down at him.
He drew in a deep breath, his heart had finally stopped pounding so hard. "I couldn't make a bow and become any good with it in such a short time," he protested.
Zoë looked amused. "Thou could have brought thy bow," she replied.
Harry frowned, looking up at her. "I don't have a bow. Artie conjures one for me to learn with, then vanishes it when the lesson's over."
Zoë grin vanished. "Oh," she said, looking shocked. She obviously hadn't expected that.
"I suppose you have your bow?" Harry asked, just a little bit of snark entering his voice. He'd just fought for his life, some rest would be good!
Zoë didn't take it personally, and pulled her bow form underneath her cloak. "One of My Lady's gifts is tobe able to draw our bows when required, and stow them away when not required," she said.
Harry didn't reply, and just groaned. Sometimes, it didn't pay to be a boy.
"Doest thou remember how to butcher a kill?" Zoë asked when five minutes had passed and he made no effort to move.
Harry groaned, and sat up. He was covered on bruises and cuts from where the pig had dragged him over the ground. He nodded, and stared at the boar.
"I should butcher it here, so the smell doesn't attract bears," he said. Zoë did not reply now that he was getting up, and stepped back into the background.
The boy stood up completely, and grabbed the cord that was still tied to the hog's hind leg. He dragged it over to a sturdy-looking tree, and hoisted it up.
He stared at it. Finally, he steeled himself, and yanked the knife out of the pig's throat, and started dressing his kill. Firt, he opened the hide, and stripped it off the carcass, before opening the belly cavity – making sure not to rupture the bowel, which would contaminate the meat.
Then he started cutting the carcass up into manageable chunks, the haunches, the ribs, and so forth. He ended up with kilos and kilos of valuable meat.
He had to cook them and cure them quickly, before the smell would attract bears. He also had to do it quickly, before the meat spoiled. Thankfully, the weather was cool and so it wouldn't spoil almost immediately.
He stepped away, carrying his precious meat.
"Wait," Zoë said, stopping him. She approached the carcass, and with practiced ease, removed its tusks. "Take these as thy spoil. Thou hath defeated thy enemy."
Harry accepted the tusks. "I… don't understand," he finally said, looking up at his teacher.
"When thou defeat a monster, thou receive a spoil of war. That this is a mortal creature makes no difference, thou should receive a spoil for it," she explained.
Harry just nodded, and pocketed the tusks. "Thanks, miss Zoë."
She remained silent, but he saw her dip her head in response. He carried the meat away from the butcher site, now poised to attract bears, and found a different spot, still far enough away from camp that a bear wouldn't go and wander through it.
With the blunt back of the useless spear, he dug a pit, before lining the bottom with stones. He built a fire on top of said stones, letting them heat up considerably. After the fire burnt itself out, he put the boar meat on top of the stones, covered it with green leaves from nearby plants, then covered the whole thing with dirt.
It would take about four hours to cook through.
While the meat cooked in his underground oven, Harry returned to camp, and built a wooden frame that he used to stretch out the boar hide to prevent it from shrinking as it dried. In a couple of days, he would be able to clean that, and make use of it.
By the time he was done with his frame, and stretching out the hide, his oven had almost done cooking, so he returned to it.
Opening it up, the smell made his mouth water. The first piece of meat he dug up was a leg, and he eagerly bit into it. The smile that appeared on his lips matched the contented noise that came out of his mouth as he chewed nice, hot, cooked, boar leg.
Filling his stomach, he dug up the rest of the meat and carried it all back to camp.
That night, he slept like a brick, fully sated, warm and dry and comfortable.
As good as he felt when he went to bed that night, so bad did he feel when he got up the next morning. First, he was stiff and sore from his fight with the boar. His bruises had come through completely, and no matter where or how he moved, at least one of them was impacted.
Secondly, Zeus had turned his anger loose on the world again, and thunderstorms plagued the mountains. Thankfully, the roof Harry had made for his fire was proving useful, and the fire kept burning.
All day, the rains drenched the environment, and Harry was forced to leave his warm and dry tent to collect more firewood. With the torrential rains, all the wood he found was wet, and wet wood simply didn't generate a lot of heat when burnt, not even with his Hestia-taught skills.
Thankfully, he had enough meat so he didn't have to go and forage. He could simply hole up and stare at the fire. And eat. And sometimes go and collect more firewood.
He tried reading the school books he had brought, but the storm plunged the forest into semi-darkness.
Harry didn't mind. He had plenty of food, and for once, didn't have to worry. He could spend his time gazing into the fire, or stare at the half-shaded forest through the curtain of rain. He was at peace.
He slept well that night, despite not having done anything other than collect firewood and stuff himself full of boar.
The next morning, the weather had changed again, and the sun was shining. Harry smiled at it – maybe he would have to make an offering to Mister Apollo at some point.
It was his last full day in the forest. Seven days. Tomorrow, his test would be over, and Zoë was going to take him back. He hoped that he had done well. He'd definitely survived, and even had it good, but he was also aware that he had made some major mistakes.
He started scraping the boar hide to remove any fat and tissues from it. As he worked, he thought about his performance. He'd prioritized the fire too much the first day or two, and it had left him extremely hungry. Too hungry, as he had eaten those dock roots, which had turned out to be problematic. He was lucky it had been a severe bout of diarrhea, and not something worse.
When he finished scraping the hide, and cut some holes in it and turned it into a makeshift vest. The boar's fur had a bristly top layer, and a very soft undercoat. It was also very warm. Harry grinned, he could have used his boarskin vest the first couple of days, when he had been cold and shivering in his tent.
He decided that he was going to make a feast of it tonight, to celebrate having it good and to celebrate his final evening in the woods. He went out and looked for edibles. He found a couple of handfuls of wood sorrel; like lettuce it contained flavor but few nutrients. He also collected more blueberries. He also found a dandelion or two.
Using his knife, he peeled some bark from a birch, and wrapped it tightly around a couple handfuls of freshly picked pine needles. That would make for a great candle.
By the time the evening fell, Harry had pulled a tree stump next to the fire for him to sit up, and had constructed a rudimentary table out of a second tree stump. He lit his improvised candle at the campfire, and stuck it in the middle of his 'table'.
On top of said improvised table was a salad of wood sorrel and dandelion leaves, a hunk of boar meat, blueberries and blueberry sauce, and a canteen full of pine needle tea.
He sat down, and was about to tuck in, when he looked at where Zoë had camped. He hadn't seen her eat or drink, so he assumed she was doing so out of his view so as to not tempt him. She was probably making do with some sort of rations, though.
"Miss Zoë?" he asked.
"Harry," she answered.
"Would you like to join me?" he asked, pointing to the other side of his 'table'. "I have plenty of boar meat left, and it would be a shame to let it go to waste."
Her first reaction was obviously to decline, he could see it. Preparing himself to eat alone, he could see her reconsider, before shrugging. "Why not?" she finally said, dragging her own tree stump over.
Harry grinned, and hurriedly put a second filet-o-boar near the fire to heat it up.
"A candle, Harry?" she commented as they waited for the meat to heat up.
Harry shrugged. "It's my last day here, I thought I'd try something different. I'm just glad it worked."
Zoë laughed softly. "'T would be a different atmosphere to eat in total darkness, I admit," she said.
They sat in companionable silence.
"The meat's almost ready," Harry said, judging the time with an expert's eye. "Let's start with our appetizer," he added, motioning for the salad made from wood sorrel, dandelions, and other assorted greens.
Zoë just nodded in amusement, and they divided the salad between them. Having planned for one, the salad was a bit small for the both of them, but neither said anything, as there was plenty of meat to come.
Having judged correctly, Harry served the boar meat. "There's blueberry sauce to go with it," Harry said, motioning for the cup holding the substance in question. Again, they divided between them.
Zoë definitely seemed to like his rustic cooking, as the blueberry sauce slathered boar meat vanished quickly.
Harry grinned. He loved it when people appreciated his food. He ate with gusto as well, and soon they had both finished.
Holding out a cup of blueberries, Harry asked, "Blueberry dessert?"
Zoë laughed, and picked a couple of blueberries out of the cup, leaving the rest for him.
They sat in silence again, listening to the sounds of the forest and the snapping of the wood in the fire.
As Harry sat, leaning back, looking up at the wide open skies, he was hit with an overwhelming feeling of gratitude. Gratitude for the food he had gathered, gratitude for the forest, for the fire, for being able to experience this sensation.
He wondered if the gods could hear him.
He decided that it didn't matter. He closed his eyes. Thanks everyone.
Even Mister Zeus, he supposed. His thunderstorms had added challenge, but in the end, without the rains, nothing would grow.
Dragging himself out of his introspective mood, he found himself staring at the fire, with Zoë sitting on the other side, staring into the fire from the opposite side.
"Miss Zoë?" he asked.
Zoë visibly dragged herself out of her own thoughts. "Harry?" she answered.
He smiled slightly. "Hestia said you were one of Artie's first Hunters. Is that true?"
Zoë nodded. "Indeed. I have been with My Lady the longest out of all the Hunters."
The young boy looked amazed. "You must have seen a lot of history," he said.
The Hunter looked amused. "Is that thy way of asking my age? Thou should know never to ask a lady her age!"
Harry sputtered, that hadn't been his intention at all! "No, that wasn't what I asked at all!" he protested. "I just wanted to know if you were part of any large events in history!"
His teacher smiled faintly. "Not often," she replied. "My Lady doeth her best to keep us from harmful events." She thought for a few moments. "There is one tale that may interest thee," she added. "'t is how I learned to drive an automobile. During the second world war, us Hunters were tasked with evacuating innocent maidens from London during the Blitz. As such, I learnt to drive an automobile while evading exploding bombs."
Harry blinked. "Whoa," he admitted.
Zoë grinned, and elaborated on her tale. Being the first of Artemis' Hunters, having been with her through thick and thin for nigh on 2000 years, had given Zoë an exceptional skill in teaching. She was used to teaching Hunters, but Harry appeared to be no different, and as such enthralled him with her tale soon enough.
The next morning, he disassembled his camp, and followed Zoë back to the Hunter's camp using that unique speed-walking skill. Within minutes, they were back.
"Welcome back, old friend," Artie greeted Zoë after they had finished stowing the pack Harry had borrowed, and moving everything back to the small backpack he had originally arrived with. The goddess glanced down at Harry, and added, "Harry. You seem well."
He grinned, and gave the Goddess of the Hunt a hug. "Hi Artie," he said. "I am well, too!"
Artie looked amused. "You look like you wrestled a bear."
"It was a boar," Harry replied, grinning. "It was delicious. Especially with blueberry sauce."
Artie blinked, and shot her Hunter a look. Zoë simply nodded. The goddess looked down at Harry again. "Well, then, it seems congratulations are in order."
"Thanks, Artie!" Harry chirped.
The goddess just dipped her head once, then looked at Zoë. "How is his evaluation?"
"He hath passed," she stated calmly, then turned to Harry. "Thou hath done well; the first rule of survival is always to survive. Thou survived, and did so well, so thou hath passed. Even if it was close at times."
Harry grinned widely. "Thanks, Miss Zoë!"
The Hunter didn't acknowledge his gratitude, and instead pressed on. "There were areas of improvement, however. Thou prioritized fire the first few days, leaving thee without food. Thou drank from a stream without boiling the water; understandable as thou hath no drunk in close to a day, however, it was a risk. Thou may need to get examined for parasites."
Harry nodded, but kept quiet.
"Thou hath also eaten multiple curly dock roots. While they are edible, and possess medicinal qualities, they should not be eaten in the quantities thou did, and it caused thee severe intestinal issues. No doubt the untreated water did not aid thee there, either."
The boy just nodded, looking at his feet. He had messed up, and he knew it.
"However, I was impressed with thy fortitude. Thou pushed on, and did not falter in thy test. 'T would have been easy for thee to abandon the test and return to seek aid. Thou did not. It was impressive."
Harry looked up, shyly, and offered a small smile. Zoë acted as if she did not notice, and said further, "Thou started looking for food in earnest, tracked a prey, set a trap, and spent the time needed for the trap to work with gathering more food. Thou improved drastically when thou had a full belly. Thou ended with plenty of food, allowing thee the time to wait out the storm, and to end the final day with a minor feast. Thou did well; remember thy priorities so thee do not end in starvation mode as that affects thy ability to reason, and thou should survive with nary a difficulty."
Harry smiled. "Thanks, Miss Zoë."
The Hunter finally acknowledged his gratitude, then turned to Artie. "During the survival, Harry hath trapped a boar; it managed to escape the trap during his attempts to kill it. Afterwards, I questioned his decision not to bring a bow – to my surprise, he admitted that he did not possess one."
Artie nodded. "I am willing to teach him how to properly use a bow, however, I draw the line at actually providing him with one. He is male, and therefore, not a Hunter."
"I see," Zoë replied. "If that is thy will, My Lady."
"You don't agree?" Artie asked, actually sounding surprised.
The Hunter thought about her answer, and ended up saying, "I assumed, as thou art teaching Harry bow-skills, that thou wouldst be supplying him with a bow with which to do so, even if it were a conventional one. 'T would have greatly aided his test."
Artie just shrugged. "I won't stop him from getting a bow, I just won't be handing him one. If he wants one, he can go and get one. Same with a quiver and arrows. If he is willing to carry a mortal bow, a mortal quiver, and mortal arrows, I will not stop him."
Zoë dipped her head. "Of course, My Lady."
Harry, meanwhile, nodded eagerly. He didn't know where he could get a bow, a quiver, or arrows from, but if he could get them, Artie wasn't going to stop him. Then again, a bow, a quiver, and arrows were heavy and bulky and they would hinder him from carrying the Hunter's pack he had borrowed. He'd have to think things through.
Zoë turned to Harry as he was thinking, and had the tiny smile on her lips that showed she knew exactly what he was thinking. "I do believe it is time for thee to return. Lady Hestia no doubt will wish to see thee, and congratulate thee on a successful test on basic survival."
Harry grinned at the thought of seeing Hestia, and made to turn. "Oh, I almost forgot," he said, reaching down to remove the hunting knife and its sheath from his belt. "I still have this."
Zoë held up her hand. "Thou can keep it. Thou hath shown that thou can use it properly, and it hath saved thine life, so I see no reason not to give it to thee."
Harry's smile widened. "Thanks, Miss Zoë!" he shouted. He made half a step, reconsidered, and opened his arms wide. "Celebratory hug?" he offered hopefully.
The Hunter looked amused, and extended her fight hand. "Celebratory handshake," she offered in return. Harry grinned, and shook her hand.
"Thanks, Miss Zoë," he repeated, before turning, and giving Artie a big hug. "Thanks, Artie." He turned to the camp fire, and waved over his shoulder. "See you soon!"
The fire turned green, and Harry vanished through it before either could respond.
He arrived at Helios' temple, and started to make his way to the front, where he could properly greet the statue of Helios. He made it halfway there before the hearth whooshed behind him.
"Hi Hestia! I'm in here!" he said loudly, while confronting Helios' statue. "Hi Mister Helios. I'm back! And I passed!"
Helios' presence enveloped him for a moment, as if in congratulations, then eased off when Hestia arrived.
"Hi Hestia," Harry greeted again, giving his all-time favorite goddess a big hug. He'd missed her a lot.
She hugged him back. "Hello Harry," she said, on her usual gentle tone. Harry luxuriated in the sensation of warmth, comfort, and protection that came with a real Hestia Hug.
She pulled back. "Now, how did your test go, and why do you look like you've been in a fight?" the Goddess of the Hearth asked, smiling slightly.
Harry grinned, and started explaining as he unpacked his backpack, and started putting things away, either in his bathroom, or in the laundry hamper.
He finished his tale with, "And Miss Zoë said I passed! Even if I messed up my priorities at the start."
Hestia was nodding thoughtfully. "I see," she said, after a moment of pause. It surprised Harry, as she was usually more involved with his progress. The kind goddess touched his shoulder, and the aches and pains of his cuts and bruises vanished. He remembered her saying she could heal minor wounds.
"Congratulations on passing your test, Harry," she finally said, smiling softly.
"Thanks, Hestia!" Harry said, feeling proud of his accomplishments. He felt a bid bad about not being able to study for school, but he really had been very busy with just surviving. It was a lot more work than he thought it would be, and his respect for the old hunter-gatherers had climbed sharply.
"We should visit Apollo and make sure you're fit and healthy," Hestia then said, dragging his thoughts back to the present. "And then I will take you to camp, to see if you are interested in some other hobbies instead of playing in the woods with Artie and her Hunters."
Harry blinked. "Huh?"
Hestia patted his shoulder, and gave him that patented gentle smile of hers. "While I don't mind you playing in the woods with Artie and her Hunters, I do get upset when it leaves you injured, and potentially infected with… things."
Harry frowned. "But it's not playing! It's hard work! And it just may keep me alive when things fall apart, and I'm on my own."
Hestia had somehow gotten him to the large front doors of the temple without him realizing it, his feet just following her where here gentle yet insistent direction indicated he should go. "While a useful skill, I'm not enthused about you being exposed to parasites or pathogens. Let's see if Apollo can clear those up."
"But Hestia..." Harry whined in protest, in a way he'd never would have dared with his Aunt and Uncle.
Hestia smiled faintly at hearing it; it looked like he was starting to learn to stand up for himself. Good. She wouldn't really stop him from spending time with Artemis and her Hunters, but that didn't mean it wasn't time for her to introduce him to camp and broaden his horizons.
"We shall see," she replied neutrally, inwardly pleased about the fact that he was acting like an average eight year old, finally. "First, we shall visit Apollo and make sure you're healthy."
"Yes, Hestia," Harry pouted.
A/N: Please Support Me On patreon.com/The_Alchemyst