Chương 24: Chapter 20: Leaves and Berries

The next morning in the Ironfang cavern began like all the others. Gideon woke before the main fire had been fully stirred, before most of the tribe had begun to move with purpose, and for a moment he lay still in the slave cage while the familiar sounds settled around him. A cough from the alcove. Stone scraping against stone. A low argument that ended in a grunt. Then he rose. The four other slaves were already watching him. Gideon met their eyes and nodded once.

"It's work," he said quietly.

"Not an escape or a game. Follow what I say and keep your hands busy. Freedom will come, I promise, but not today." They didn't answer, but they shifted into place as he began stretching. Their movements were still awkward, knees bending wrong and shoulders pulling too high, but they followed him through the routine without complaint. By the time pale morning light reached the cave mouth, Throk was waiting near the entrance with two Hunters behind him.

"You," he said to Gideon, then jerked his chin toward the others.

"And you lot. Stay where I can see you, and we won't have problems." Gideon nodded.

"Understood." The Hunters said nothing. One had a scar splitting his upper lip, pulling his mouth into a permanent sneer. The other watched the cave entrance with pale, steady eyes, his attention already fixed on whatever waited beyond it. Both were built differently from Throk and the Warriors Gideon had spent the last few weeks observing. They were leaner through the shoulders and waist, with corded muscle that looked made for long hours beneath the trees rather than the sudden violence of a charge.

Their armor was lighter too, strips of fitted hide that left their joints free, and each carried a bow across his back alongside a spear. Throk began walking. The Hunters followed, their footfalls landing with a care Gideon didn't see from the Warriors. Throk seemed to claim every patch of ground he crossed. These two barely disturbed it. Gideon motioned for the slaves to follow and fell in behind them. He'd noticed the same differences before, though never this clearly.

Warriors filled the cavern with noise, weight, and the constant readiness to strike something. Hunters moved as though they were always measuring distance, wind, and the quickest path through whatever stood ahead. Scouts were smaller still, quick enough to vanish through brush or climb where the others would struggle. Warrior. Hunter. Scout. The words carried more weight in the tribe than simple duties. Goblins deferred to them, obeyed them, and seemed to understand the boundaries between them instinctively.

Gideon still didn't know where the distinctions came from. Maybe the System recognized what each goblin practiced long enough to become. Maybe the role came first and the body adapted afterward. Or perhaps the choice had been made elsewhere, through some invisible line drawn the first time one of them picked up a bow instead of a spear. He watched the pale-eyed Hunter pause at the cave mouth, glance once toward the trees, then step outside without making a sound.

Whatever the answer was, it wasn't written plainly enough for Gideon to see. He pushed the question aside and followed. The climb out of the cavern and up the small rise was familiar now, but the air outside still struck him with its cold, damp weight. Wet earth. Rotting leaves. Trees. Something had passed nearby during the night, close enough that even Gideon could catch the lingering musk beneath the stronger smells of the forest.

The forest opened around them, tall trunks and broken light, the ground carpeted in needles and moss. The slaves flinched at every sound, shoulders tight, eyes flicking constantly. Throk watched them with open contempt.

"They look ready to bolt," he muttered.

"They look nervous," Gideon replied, and kept walking. Throk huffed in irritation but didn't argue. The two Hunters spread out slightly, moving to angles where their eyes could cover more ground, bows still slung but hands never far from them. They traveled for a time, not far, but far enough that the cave wouldn't be visible even if Gideon climbed a tree and looked back.

When Throk finally stopped, it was in a shallow clearing where several trees Gideon now recognized as Aldren grew close together, their bark thick, their needles clean and sharp with scent.

"Here," Throk said.

"You gather your tree scraps. We return to the cavern before the light fades." Gideon stepped toward the nearest trunk, placed a hand on the bark, and looked to the slaves.

"Watch," he said. He borrowed a blade from one of the Hunters and began shaving bark in thin curls, careful not to gouge too deep or strip the tree raw. He held the curls up so the others could see the thickness.

"Thin," he said.

"Not chunks. Thin curls dry faster and steep better. We also don't want to harm the trees too much. They can recover from thin cuts, but too many chunks taken away can kill them." He moved to the needles next, selecting branches lower on the tree where the needles were dense and healthy, not brown or brittle.

"Green," he said.

"Not dead. Not moldy. If it smells wrong, you leave it." He crushed a small pinch between his fingers and let them smell it, one by one. Their faces twisted at the sharpness, but they learned quickly. Then he walked them to another tree and pointed out a spot where resin had hardened in amber clumps along a split in the bark.

"This," he said, tapping it.

"Not rotten sap. Real resin. Hard, clean, and sticky when warmed." He took the small blade and carefully chipped pieces free, letting them fall into a hide bag.

"Don't scrape the tree until it bleeds," he warned them.

"You take what is already there. If you carve into the wood, you waste time and invite rot." They nodded, more serious now. He set them to work in pairs, one gathering bark curls, one gathering needles, trading roles after a time so they learned both. When they found resin, they called him over before they chipped it free. He approved the spot, corrected their angle, and showed them how to take it without shattering it into useless dust.

While they worked, Throk watched with arms folded, expression tight, as if the act of teaching slaves offended him more than the forest itself. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"You think they'll remember this?" Throk asked Gideon.

"They will," Gideon replied.

"They want to live." Throk made a quiet sound, half scoff, half growl.

"Slaves want what they are told to want." Gideon didn't take the bait. He kept his eyes on the others. The bags were filling, slowly but surely. Bark and needles were bundled and wrapped with short lengths of cords. Resin clinked softly as it knocked against other resin inside the hide. That part was taken care of. Now came the reason he had truly asked to return.

"I'm going to search for other plants," he said as he stepped away from the gathering and into the brush where the forest thickened, careful to stay within sight, careful to keep his movements calm so the Hunters didn't decide he was trying something clever. He crouched beside the first plant that caught his attention, a short bush with broad leaves hanging low to the ground, the stems thin and flexible. The leaves spread outward in a shallow circle, hugging the soil.

He focused and reached for Herbal Insight the way he had learned to. A faint, translucent System window shimmered into place above the plant, anchored to it as if pinned there by invisible thread. The lettering was sharp and impersonal. [Fanleaf] Type: Forest Undergrowth Edible: Yes Effect When Consumed: None Gideon paused at the final line. That was new. Herbal Insight had leveled since he first acquired it, and apparently the Skill was already revealing a little more. He let the window fade and moved on.

Another plant caught his eye, this one with a thicker stalk and tight clusters of narrow leaves. When he brushed it, a faint sharp scent clung to his fingers. He reached for Herbal Insight again. A translucent window flickered into place. [Quickleaf] Type: Forest Herb Edible: Yes Effect When Consumed: Mild Stimulant Gideon studied it for a moment, then let the window dissolve. Useful, perhaps, but not what he needed. He committed the plant to memory so he could find it again later, and moved on.

He kept going, searching, testing, discarding. It didn't take him long to begin to understand the limits of Herbal Insight. The Skill wasn't a guide. It didn't pull him toward what he wanted or highlight the correct answer in glowing light. It only responded to what he chose to examine. He crouched beside another plant, pressed his fingers to its jagged leaves, and triggered the Skill again. The faint window appeared. [Nettleroot] Type: Forest Undergrowth Edible: No Effect When Consumed: Poisonous Good to know.

Another plant for later, perhaps. He let it fade and continued his search. And then, after a long stretch of nothing, he found one that made him still. A small herb grew near the base of a fallen log where moisture gathered, its leaves narrow and slightly waxy, the scent stinging his nostrils when he pinched them between his fingers. He used Herbal Insight again, and his breath caught in his throat when he read the description it gave him.

[Frostvein] Type: Forest Herb Edible: Yes Effect When Consumed: Reduces Fever The relief he felt was strong enough to hurt. He glanced up, scanning the trees instinctively, then lowered his gaze back to the plant. It wasn't abundant. Only a handful of small bushes were clustered in the damp soil, as if the forest guarded it. That told him enough. If it was rare, it had to be treated like something valuable.

He harvested carefully, taking leaves and small stems while leaving the roots intact, never stripping a patch completely clean. Each bundle he wrapped in cloth and tucked away gently so the waxy leaves wouldn't bruise into useless pulp. Only when he was certain he had gathered what he safely could from this patch did he rise and press deeper between the trees, searching for the second answer he still lacked. By midday, the other slaves had filled two large hide bags with bark, needles, and resin.

Their hands were stained and sticky. Their movements were more confident now, less frantic. They spoke in short phrases to each other, not loud, not daring to relax, but working. Throk checked the bags and grunted approval, though his eyes remained sharp.

"Enough," he said.

"We return soon."

"Soon," Gideon agreed, and continued searching. He found the second herb he'd been hoping for near a streambed where the ground dipped and the air stayed cooler, a plant with small clustered leaves and a faint scent that reminded him, oddly, of clean air after rain. He identified it with his Skill, and watched as the translucent panel flickered into place above the plant. [Mistbloom] Type: Forest Herb Edible: Yes Effect When Consumed: Eases Coughing Gideon sat very still for a moment, staring at the words.

There it was. Not a cure, or a miracle, but something that shifted the odds. He heard a chime in his head, and opened the notification. [Congratulations! Herbal Insight has reached Level 3.] He looked around the streambed carefully before harvesting, noting how the plant favored the damp soil and partial shade. Like the Frostvein, it wasn't abundant. He gathered what he could without stripping the patch bare, taking leaves and stems while leaving the roots and smaller shoots behind.

He bundled the Mistbloom with the same care as the Frostvein and tucked it away. Between the two herbs, he now had tools for both sides of the sickness ravaging the cavern. He hadn't forgotten the Quickleaf or the Nettleroot either. Neither plant helped him here, but both had uses he intended to remember. As the light began to shift toward late afternoon, he noticed the Hunters watching him more closely.

Not suspicious in the way Throk watched him, but attentive, as if they were trying to decide whether what he was doing was worth remembering. Gideon made sure they saw him place the herbs into the bags. If he was going to change anything in the cave, he couldn't behave suspiciously or invite doubt. When the shadows grew longer and the forest began to cool, they started back toward the cavern. On the way back, Throk stopped near a low thorny bush heavy with dark berries. He glanced at it and snorted.

"These are bitter," he said.

"Not worth eating." One of the slaves looked hungrily anyway, but didn't reach for them. Gideon stepped closer, curiosity flickering. He pinched one berry free and held it up. Throk's eyes glinted with amusement.

"Go on then. Do it. I warned you." Gideon met his gaze briefly, then popped it into his mouth. The bitterness hit him like a punishment. Strong. Sour. Clinging to his tongue. He fought the instinct to spit it out, forced himself to chew, swallow, and endure the aftertaste. Throk's expression held quiet satisfaction.

"Told you. Now you know." Gideon wiped his tongue against the inside of his cheek, then crouched and pressed his fingers lightly against the berry cluster. As he had so many times today, he called upon Herbal Insight again. [Blackthorn Berry] Type: Forest Berry Edible: Yes Effect When Consumed: None Effect When Fermented: Intoxicating Gideon stilled. He read the last line twice. Effect When Fermented: Intoxicating. He looked at the bush. Then at the berries. Then at Throk. This could become alcohol.

Not the clean, refined alcohol of Earth, but something crude and wild. Still. Potentially a way to ferment juice into alcohol. A way to shift morale, to trade, to control, to reward, to dull pain, to make harsh nights softer in a world built on sharp edges. He didn't let his face change too much. Throk was watching him curiously.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Gideon held his gaze and chose his words carefully.

"They're edible. Just bitter." Throk snorted again and turned away, already losing interest. Gideon began gathering the berries anyway. He filled a pouch with them, enough to experiment with later, enough to see what fermentation might do, enough to learn. The other slaves watched him with confusion written across their faces, but said nothing. The Hunters didn't bother to stop him and Throk seemed too certain the berries were worthless to care, so Gideon kept his mouth shut and his hands moving.

By the time the sky began to truly darken, they'd reached the slope above the cave. The slaves' bags were heavy, swollen with bark bundles, needle clumps, resin chunks, and Gideon's carefully wrapped herbs. Their shoulders sagged under the weight, but they didn't complain. They descended toward the cavern in silence.