"Survive… shelter?" Nidar asked himself as he looked at the small holographic circle in front of himself "What… what do you mean?" Nidar asked Mim, but before he could hear a response he heard a rough voice calling him over.
"Nidar! Come here you energetic fart!." The voice, although rough, and a bit mocking, was still filled with a kind of love that a grandfather would have for his grandchild.
"C-Coming Wordr!" said Nidar as he quickly got up and turned off the eyepatch.
As he started running up the stairs, his caretaker Wordr was now in view, a mountain of a man, with arms as thick as tree stumps, and a beard as bushy as a forest of pines after a serious storm. "What is it?" Nidar asks with a smile as he stands in front of Wordr with a smile.
"Go gather some sticks, it's colder than a machine's heart in here." Wordr said as he looked at Nidar expectantly. "Just gather the dry ones, the wet ones are more useless than a beaver in a desert"
"Yes, on it!" Said Nidar with a wide smile on his face. Nidar hurried out the door, his boots thumping against the dirt path leading into the small forest nearby. The sun was still not fully out, casting long shadows as he made his way between the trees. He knew exactly where to look for dry wood—behind a few boulders near the creek where the sun hit hardest. The wind had picked up a bit, rustling the branches above, but it was still chilly. The kind of cold that gnawed at your bones.
As Nidar gathered stick the words "Survive. Shelter" resonated in his mind again.
"What could he mean?" The boy asked himself as he continued gathering both sticks, and dry leaves. "Was it his resting place?" He asked himself as he started going back.
"No matter, I'll ask Mim in the evening," Nidar said to himself as he quickly ran back to their cabin.
"Here you go Wordr." He said as he put the bundle of sticks next to the fireplace and then also took out the dried leaves from his pouch. "I also gathered these cause i didn't know if we have any kindle"
Wordr grunted in approval as Nidar placed the bundle of sticks down next to the fireplace, his eyes still focused on the firepit. The old man didn't say much at first, but his nod was enough to tell Nidar he'd done well.
"Not bad," Wordr muttered, taking the sticks from the boy's hands with one of his meaty paws. He began arranging them in the firepit, his thick fingers deftly weaving the dry wood into place, leaving just enough space for the leaves to ignite.
"Good job bringing some kindling, we're almost out," Wordr added, his voice softer now as he sifted through the dried leaves. "It's always good to have some, especially with the cold creeping in like this."
Nidar watched as Wordr blew on the pile of sticks and leaves, coaxing the embers to life. A few small cracks and pops filled the air as the fire took hold. Nidar shifted from foot to foot, his eyes still lingering on the flames as they grew higher, casting flickering shadows across the room.
"I've always wondered," Nidar started hesitantly, "how do you make a fire like this when you don't have dry wood around?"
Wordr's eyes darted to the boy, his bushy beard twitching as he let out a low chuckle.
"Kid, you're always askin' questions," he said, wiping his hands on his trousers and leaning back on his heels. "Don't you know? There's always a way to start a fire, even when the world doesn't give you what you need. It's about being smart with what you have. You're lucky, boy. You've got the tools of the world in your hands. Don't let 'em go to waste."
Nidar's brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of Wordr's words. "The tools of the world?" he repeated quietly to himself.
Wordr, seeing the confusion in Nidar's eyes, sighed and sat back down on a nearby log. He gestured for the boy to come closer, and Nidar, eager to learn, stepped forward, taking a seat across from his caretaker.
"Listen up," Wordr began. "Fire's not just about the sticks. It's about knowing the land, the trees, the plants. It's about being able to find something that'll burn when nothing else seems like it will. A good survivalist doesn't just know how to make a fire—they know when to make it. They understand the land around 'em and use it."
Nidar nodded solemnly. Wordr's words weren't just lessons—they were pieces of a bigger puzzle, one that Nidar was eager to figure out.
"Take the roots of a willow tree, for example," Wordr continued, warming to the subject. "Not the best wood, but it burns hot enough to start something bigger. You ever seen a pinecone burn? Those suckers go up fast, but they're gone before you know it. It's about understanding what you've got. Nothing is ever truly useless, unless you let it be."
Nidar smiled at the thought of pinecones and willow roots being useful, things he'd once passed by without thinking.
"So when you're out there," Wordr added, "you've got to keep your eyes open. Not just for food, not just for shelter, but for everything that'll help you live. A fire's not just about warmth—it's about survival."
Nidar leaned forward, fascinated. "Like the picture I saw? The one in the ruins?"
Wordr stiffened at the mention of the ruins, his face hardening. He didn't say anything for a long moment, his gaze narrowing. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he shook his head.
"Forget about that, Nidar," he said with an edge in his voice. "The ruins won't help you survive. The only thing you need to focus on right now is the here and now. That's all there is."
Nidar opened his mouth to argue but closed it again, sensing the finality in Wordr's voice. Instead, he nodded, accepting Wordr's stance—at least for now. The fire crackled merrily, casting warm light on their faces as they sat in silence, lost in thought.
After a while, Wordr grunted and stood up, his joints creaking as he stretched his massive arms. "You want to learn something that actually would be useful?" he asked, his voice gruff but filled with a sense of purpose.
Nidar's heart leapt. "Yeah! always!"
Wordr nodded with a sly grin. "Good. Come with me, we'll be making some arrows"
Nidar's eyes gleamed with excitement as he stood up, eager to start this new lesson. Wordr's gruff exterior may have been tough, but under it all was the kind of care and love Nidar had come to rely on.