Chương 19: Chapter 16: A Week of Hard Work

The week Dravak had allowed him began like a weight laid across his shoulders and left there. True to his word, Gideon carried what the sick couldn't. At first light he brought them water, crouching to tilt the bucket carefully at cracked lips. He fetched their food, softening the tougher meat over the coals before carrying it to the alcove where they lay.

When the hides beneath them fouled, he dragged the rank bedding to the stream and scrubbed until his knuckles burned raw, then hauled it back dripping and as clean as he could make it. The rest of the day was no lighter. He gathered firewood. He tended wounds. He cleaned the reeking corner until the cavern stink dulled from overwhelming filth to a constant background of smoke and damp stone.

The four slaves worked with him now, carrying buckets and scrubbing where he pointed, but the burden of the sick was his alone. He had promised Dravak that much, and the promise held him like another length of rope. By the second day his legs gave out halfway to the stream as he carried two buckets at once. The buckets sloshed, filthy water spilling over his bare feet. His vision blurred at the edges, his breath tearing at his throat. The work was simply too much for the body he had.

He staggered, and desperation and instinct flared. Quick Feet answered. His steps grew steadier, his balance more precise. The buckets didn't become lighter, but his muscles burned less and his lungs held longer. He moved in a quick, darting rhythm that somehow steadied his stride. The realization that Quick Feet could be used like that created a shift in his work. He began to lean on it. Each time his body threatened to fold, he willed the Skill awake and let that strange extra spark carry him farther.

It backfired pretty quickly. One time, not paying enough attention to his Stamina pool, he pushed too far. Quick Feet drained his Stamina to the dregs. His legs simply stopped obeying. His vision went black around the edges, then all at once. He collapsed halfway back to the cave, the buckets tumbling beside him and spilling their contents into the dirt. When he came to, a Warrior was there, kicking him hard in the ribs and cursing about having to go looking for a missing slave.

Gideon curled around the pain, wheezed, then forced himself upright. He bowed his head, picked up the buckets, and went back to work. After that, he watched his Stamina with the same mixture of focus and paranoia he'd watched for predators with in the forest those first few days.

"Never below five," he decided. Five gave him enough to run, or climb, or at least activate a Skill once if he truly had to. He built the habit into every task. Sprint light-footed toward the stream when the buckets were empty, then walk slowly on the way back so water wouldn't spill and his Stamina could slowly tick upward again. When he needed it, the Skill answered and kept him moving. Slowly, his body began to keep pace with his will. His steps grew quicker, lighter, almost natural.

If he squinted at his own movements, he could almost pretend he had always lived in this skin. A few soft chimes echoed in his mind but he ignored them. The tribe noticed him more and more now. Warriors no longer jeered at him or hurled insults when he passed by with buckets balanced in both hands, cloth strips looped around his neck. They still sneered at the four who trailed after him, muttered about "dog-slaves" and "filth-runners," but Gideon himself drew fewer laughs with each passing day.

He was small, and a slave, but he worked with a pace and purpose none of them had seen before. By the third day he saw results. Not as much as he had wanted, but enough to tease hope. The fever broke in a few of the sick. Sweat cooled on their brows, and their eyes cleared. The wound cleaning and care continued to work, somewhat. Some of the worse wounds had stopped oozing pus and were finally beginning to knit at the edges. Others still stank when he unwrapped them, pale flesh rimmed with an angry red.

The cloth helped. The water helped. The separation helped. But it wasn't enough. He sat back on his heels beside one particularly stubborn wound, rag heavy with yellow discharge in his hand, and felt frustration gnaw at him. He was doing the best he could with rags and water, but reality wasn't always kind to those who did their best. There was no alcohol here. No antiseptic wipes or antibiotics. No clean gauze sealed in sterile packaging. Just whatever the tribe had dragged back from raids and the forest.

The forest. His earlier thoughts returned to him.

"The forest is the supply cabinet." Maybe it was time to make the request. But what exactly would he be asking for? He couldn't just ask to go wander aimlessly between the trees and hope to stumble across miracle leaves. He didn't know this forest. He didn't know which plants healed and which killed. Guessing wrong could mean poisoning someone he was trying to save. He needed something to aim for, some sense of direction. He sat down fully now as his mind drifted backward instead. To a different forest.

A different world. Japan. He remembered the narrow path winding between towering trees, the air cool and damp, the ground cushioned with fallen needles. The guide had spoken softly about shinrin yoku, forest bathing. About breathing in the compounds released by trees, and how it had positive effects on a person's immune system and stress levels. His mother had squeezed his hand and told him to inhale deeply. He had.

He remembered returning to Wisconsin and reading about phytoncides, the antimicrobial compounds trees released to protect themselves from rot and insects. Pine resin and cedar oils. Sap that sealed wounds in the bark and kept decay at bay. He'd fallen into article after article explaining how ancient cultures, including the Japanese centuries ago, had used those same resins and extracts to treat cuts and infections. It wasn't magic or superstition, but chemistry, proven to work over centuries of trial and error.

What it all boiled down to for Gideon right now was that trees defended themselves. Which meant the trees in the forest outside carried weapons against the same things that were killing the goblins in this cave. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. He looked again at the infected wound in front of him. At the cloudy water. At the stained cloth still in his hands. He didn't have medicine like on Earth. But he had trees. Resin could serve as a crude sealant.

Boiled bark might leach out useful compounds. He didn't need to know everything about this forest. He only needed to start by identifying trees similar to what he remembered. Test small, observe, and then adjust carefully. His jaw tightened. It was a hypothesis. It could work.

"Better than scrambling around blindly." But he would need permission to search the forest.

"Tonight, I'll ask." He glanced up from the wound, almost without meaning to, and found Dravak watching him from across the cavern. The Chief's expression was unreadable at first. Then one corner of his mouth lifted in a faint grin. Gideon held his gaze for a heartbeat before looking away.

"What do you think you see, Chief? And what do you think I'm planning?" The rest of the day blurred into heavy labor. Once, while dragging two full buckets of water down the short hill yet again, he heard another chime. This one was deeper, more resonant than the others had been. He stopped and finally opened the notifications he had been ignoring. [Congratulations! Quick Feet has reached Level 3.] [Congratulations! Quick Feet has reached Level 4.] [Congratulations! Achievement earned: Hard Labor.] Hard Labor: Through sustained overexertion and repeated strain beyond safe limits, your body has adapted to survive the workload. Reward: +1 Strength. Gideon blinked at the last few lines he was reading. He had never seen an Achievement before. He grinned slightly, and raised his eyes to the sky.

"Thanks, System. You might be slow, but you're not completely useless." He felt a warm glow spread through his body, and when it faded, he felt steadier, more solid, like he could suddenly lift more. The buckets in his hands lightened just the slightest amount. He continued down the hill and back into the cavern. That night, when the fires had burned low and most of the tribe lay dozing, Gideon rose in the cage. The guards stiffened at once, spears angling toward him.

He kept his hands loose and visible, his voice level.

"Chief," he called out. His words carried farther than he expected. Conversations stalled and heads turned. The crackle of the fire seemed suddenly loud. Dravak looked up from his stone seat, where he had been talking with Throk and Kesh. Firelight carved his scars deeper and threw his shadow high along the wall.

"Speak." Gideon swallowed nervously at all the attention being on him, then decided to just speak plainly.

"I need to go into the forest," he said.

"I want to collect sap and resin, as well as needles and bark." There was a beat of silence, then laughter burst from three different corners of the cavern.

"Sap," a Warrior jeered.

"The little slave wants tree blood."

"Going to glue the sick back together? Stick three of them together and build us a brand new Warrior?" another snickered. The laughter echoed. Someone tossed a stone at the cage. It clanged off the bars and bounced away. Dravak didn't laugh. His eyes stayed fixed on Gideon, still standing at the bars.

"Why?" Gideon could feel eyes on him, waiting for the slave to stumble over his words. He forced himself not to.

"Because those things can help with the wounds that are rotting," he said. Nobody dared to laugh and interrupt the Chief, but Gideon could see some of the tribe looking at him like he was crazy. Well, more crazy than they already considered him. Dravak watched him for a long moment. Then he lifted one hand, and studied his palm.

"Always strange," he said, more to himself than to Gideon.

"Always scratching where others see nothing." He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, and raised his eyes back to Gideon.

"Alright then. You claim it will help, so you may enter the forest. But the forest is dangerous," he continued.

"You will not walk it alone. You will have two Warriors watching every step. If you stray, if you run, they will gut you and leave you for the wolves. Do you understand?" Gideon bowed his head.

"Yes, Chief." Across the cavern, near the fire, the female Warrior from before stood with arms folded tight across her chest. She hadn't laughed. Her eyes were narrowed to slits. When Dravak finished speaking, she let her voice carry, loud enough for the closest Warriors to hear.

"So now we waste time fetching tree snot because a slave said so," she said.

"Strange times." A few goblins snorted. A few glanced at Dravak and shut their mouths. Dravak's eyes flicked toward her for a heartbeat, then back to Gideon. Whatever he thought, he kept it to himself.

"Tomorrow," Dravak said.

"Bring back what you can." He turned away, back to his Lieutenants. The tribe's noise slowly returned, though thinner than before. Some shook their heads. Some spat on the ground. But no one dared argue out loud. Gideon sank back down to his bedding, heart beating fast from the simple act of speaking up. He closed his eyes and, for a moment, pictured a cedar forest and his mother smiling at him through dappled light. He realized with a start that he couldn't remember her face clearly.

That realization brought tears to his eyes, which he quickly wiped away.

"I hope you would understand this," he whispered.

"I really am trying." Morning brought cool air and the scrape of wood. Two Warriors swung the cage open and motioned him out with the tips of their spears. He stepped forward. The tribe watched in silence this time. Only the pop of firewood and the drip of water could be heard as he made his way to the cave mouth. The female Warrior stood near the entrance, spear slanted across her back, eyes hard. She spat on the stone as he passed. Gideon kept his eyes low and feet steady.

They made their way up the hill, then crossed the narrow stream. The forest opened around them, damp with morning mist. His escorts trailed a few paces behind, blades naked in their hands. He moved from tree to tree, trying not to think about how crazy he must look. He pressed his fingers to bark, brought his nose close, and inhaled deeply. Some trunks smelled of wet rot, others of little more than cold air and lichen. He shook his head at those and moved on. Then he caught it. A strong scent.

Resinous, bitter, and yet somehow clean. It was close enough to snag something in his memory. His chest tightened with a strange mix of homesickness and purpose.

"This one," he murmured. He glanced at the Warriors. Their expressions hovered somewhere between boredom and disbelief.

"Cut me some bark," he said, careful to keep his tone respectful.

"And if you see hardened sap, pry it loose. Please." They exchanged a look.

"The slave is insane," one said, but he still drew his knife and pressed it to the trunk. He sliced off wide curls of bark. Then he scraped at a glossy tear of hardened resin, popping amber chunks free. The pieces fell into Gideon's waiting hands, rough and cool, their scent sharp even at arm's length. Gideon nodded his thanks, hugged the strips to his chest, and moved on. He repeated the process, sniffing his way along the trunks like some strange creature.

Needles came easy once he found the right kind of tree, handfuls of sharp green clinging together in his fingers. Somewhere between one tree and the next, a chime sounded in his head. He paused for a moment to open the notification. [New Skill Acquired: Herbal Insight (Level 1)] Herbal Insight (Level 1): You can examine plants to reveal basic information about them. The accuracy and detail of the information improve with Skill level. He grinned despite himself.

"Thank you," he whispered to the air. He tested the Skill on the resin clinging to the next tree. [Aldren Resin] Type: Tree Resin Edible: No Gideon stared at the pane for a moment. It wasn't much information, but the Skill had identified the material without him knowing its name beforehand. Herbal Insight was essentially a narrower version of Identify, limited to plants and whatever came from them. That could be useful.

Very useful, once it grew strong enough to tell him more than what something was and whether eating it would kill him. He tried the bark next. [Aldren Bark] Type: Tree Bark Edible: No Again, nothing groundbreaking. The Skill had given him a name and confirmed what he already knew without offering any instructions about what to do with it. Still, it worked. He continued using Herbal Insight as he searched, checking the resin, bark, and needles the Warriors helped him gather.

Most of the information windows were just as basic, but his repeated use pushed the Skill up another level before they were finished. By the time the sun climbed higher, his arms were full. He had resin wrapped in cloth, strips of bark, and fistfuls of needles. The sharp scent clung to his skin and made his nose prickle. The Warriors looked unimpressed.

"Done?" one asked.

"For now," Gideon said. They escorted him back to the cavern without another word.