Quarrying

When Lu Heng opened his eyes, it was already light outside the cave.

He did not move right away. His back rested against the rock wall, its chill seeping into his bones. His whole body felt frozen, without a single spot of ease from his shoulders to his waist.

He stared at the cave ceiling for a while.

A long, thin water stain marked the rock wall. He did not know whether it came from seepage or the damp left by the night before. He stared at it, his mind empty, thinking of nothing.

The past two days had been too relentless. Killing snakes, fleeing, chopping trees, building a shelter-one thing after another, with no time to catch his breath. He had had no time to feel tired then. Now that he had stopped, his body seemed to be settling old accounts, collecting every ache one by one.

He tried moving his fingers. His fingertips were numb.

Then he tried raising an arm. A dull pain immediately spread through his shoulder socket, as though something were caught in the joint, dragging his entire arm downward.

Gritting his teeth, Lu Heng pushed himself up.

His back was terribly stiff, and his spine cracked joint by joint, each sound perfectly clear to his own ears. Once upright, his legs felt weak. He braced himself against the rock wall for a long while, only slowly letting go when his knees stopped trembling.

Hungry.

His stomach felt distressingly empty. Hunger pushed up from his belly, tightening his throat.

He opened his wristband's inventory. There was still bread, and enough purified water, but only a small handful of berries remained. He took them out and spread them across his palm. The berries were shriveled and wrinkled, their color dull. They felt limp when squeezed, like a wad of dried-out paper.

He looked at them for two seconds, then stuffed them all into his mouth.

They had little flavor. The flesh broke apart in his mouth, dry and mealy. Only as he swallowed did he taste the faintest sourness at the back of his throat.

He broke off another half piece of bread and chewed very slowly. The bread was hard and took effort to chew, but each bite settled his stomach a little more. Head lowered, he ate mouthful by mouthful. Light and shadow from the woods outside fell beside his feet, so quiet it felt like another world.

After eating, he picked up the wooden spear leaning against the wall.

Its point had dulled. It had struck a rock while he was chopping branches yesterday, chipping a small piece from the edge and leaving it rough. He brushed it with the pad of his finger, and it scraped painfully against his skin.

Lu Heng crouched at the cave entrance and, by the daylight outside, shaved it down little by little with the iron axe.

Wood shavings fluttered down. He worked slowly, not because he did not want to go faster, but because he could not lift his arm very high. Every few strokes, his shoulders and back ached and tightened. He had to stop and shake out his hand, waiting for the ache to pass before continuing.

As he worked, he suddenly remembered how the wooden spear had nearly slipped from his grasp while he fought the snake yesterday. Had the point been a little duller then, that thrust would not have gone deep enough. He did not dare imagine the consequences.

He held the spear point up to the light and inspected it. The edge was finally sharp.

The iron axe was heavy and useful at close quarters, but lacked reach. The wooden spear let him thrust first. It did less damage, but was safer. The bone dagger was sharp, but animal bone was brittle. If it struck something hard, it would chip on impact.

Three weapons, each with its own use. After a moment's thought, he tucked the bone dagger back at his waist, took the wooden spear in hand, and slung the iron axe behind him.

As he left, he glanced back at the cave.

The wooden wall stood before the mountainside, enclosing it tightly. Wind blew in from outside, only to be blocked beyond the cave entrance. He had built this with his own hands. Crude though it was, standing here gave him some small sense of having something to hold on to.

The early-morning woods were quiet.

Dew clung to the vegetation, wetting the soles of his shoes as he walked. He followed yesterday's route and soon reached the Ancient Dry Riverbed.

The riverbed lay exposed, its cracked mud curling upward in pieces. Sunlight fell warmly across it. It did not look particularly dangerous.

But as Lu Heng approached, his expression darkened.

The silt on the riverbed's surface had hardened into a crust. After days of drying in the wind, the black layer of mud was as hard as stone, locking the stone beneath it firmly in place. Gaps he had still been able to pry at with his wooden spear yesterday were all jammed shut today.

He still needed fifteen units of stone.

Lu Heng stood at the edge of the riverbed, staring at the hardened mud for a long while.

Two days ago, he probably would have cursed, then swung his axe and started hacking. But now his whole body ached, and simply standing was already draining his strength. He lowered his head and looked at his hands. The calluses worn into the webbing between his thumbs and forefingers yesterday were still there, and his knuckles felt stiff.

He took a deep breath, tightened his grip on the iron axe, and swung at the edge of the mud crust.

Clang.

The sound was dull. The axe blade knocked away only a thin layer of crumbled mud.

He gritted his teeth and struck again. He used more force this time, and the impact numbed the webbing of his hand. His entire arm ached from wrist to shoulder. He stopped, shook out his hand, and waited for the ache to ease before striking again.

Once, twice, three times.

At last, a crack opened in the hard mud. He inserted the axe blade and levered it hard. Chunks of mud broke away, exposing the gray-white stone beneath.

Lu Heng crouched and cleared away the loose mud by hand. His fingertips touched the stone's cold edges, and he felt a little relief.

But his pleasure lasted only a few seconds before he discovered that the stone was lodged deep in a crevice. The rock walls on either side were too close together for him to swing the iron axe. He could only turn sideways and lean down, inserting the blade at an angle and prying little by little.

The stone loosened.

He held his breath and twisted his wrist to lever it outward-the stone slipped back and jammed tight again.

Lu Heng's hand froze in midair.

He stared at the crevice, his chest tight with distress. Not because of the pain, but because he knew he had to get this stone out today. There was no way around it.

He changed his angle and set the axe to it again.

This time, he did not rush to pry. First, he chipped away at the hardened mud around the stone's edges, loosening it bit by bit. He worked very slowly, controlling the force of every blow for fear of knocking it back into the crevice.

Sweat slid down from his temple and into his eye, stinging enough to make him squint. He could not spare a hand to wipe it away, so he merely turned his head and shook it before continuing to chip.

Time passed slowly.

The riverbed was open and empty, its surroundings silent. Only the dull knocks of the axe blade against mud echoed over the cracked ground, one after another.

After an unknown stretch of time, the stone finally loosened.

Lu Heng hooked both hands around its edges and pulled, gritting his teeth. The stone shifted outward inch by inch, crumbs of mud showering down. The moment it came completely free of the crevice, he lurched backward and nearly landed on the ground.

He put the stone into his inventory and braced his hands on his knees, panting.

The next few pieces were still difficult to extract, but he had figured out where the gaps were, and his movements went somewhat more smoothly than before.

One piece, two pieces, three pieces.

As the last piece entered storage, the wristband's interface flashed faintly.

Thirty units of logs, thirty units of stone.

He had all the materials.

Lu Heng straightened, his back aching so badly he could barely stand upright. Leaning on the axe handle, he panted for a long while, his chest heaving. He looked down at his hands. His knuckles were white, his palms covered in mud. The calluses between his thumbs and forefingers had worn through, seeping a thin film of blood.

He stared at that film of blood for a while, then suddenly smiled.

It was faint and brief, so much so that he did not even notice it himself.

He was about to gather his things and head back when the bushes at the far end of the riverbed suddenly stirred.

The sound was faint and intermittent, hidden deep among the leaves and branches.

Lu Heng stopped moving.

He stared at the bushes, his body slowly tensing. He had not yet recovered the strength spent quarrying. His shoulders and arms were weak and sore, and the hand holding his spear felt heavy.

Another sound came from the bushes.

Not the wind.

Lu Heng did not move closer to investigate. Keeping his eyes on the source of the strange sound, he slowly backed away. Once he had retreated far enough to turn around, he immediately turned and withdrew toward the Shelter at a brisk pace.

Behind him, the bushes fell silent.

He walked very quickly and did not look back.

The hairs on the back of his neck stayed raised. He kept feeling as though a gaze were fixed on his back through the leaves and branches.