Chapter Thirty-Seven: A Good Addition (Patreon)

When I get absolutely sick of twisting bark fibre and watching clay dry, I decide to move onto a different, equally important project. Walking out of the cave, I find Kalanthia sitting outside.

“Hi, Kalanthia?” She turns her head towards me and cocks it curiously. “Do you mind if I make some changes to the land around here? I want to plant some things.”

Go ahead, Markus Wolfe, she tells me neutrally, not seeming particularly interested in the topic now – perhaps because it’s to do with plants.

“OK, thanks,” I reply, waving at her as I start walking around. Samova beans like sunlight, but they also like their roots to be kept moist, like beans on Earth. That means I either plant up here near the cave as it’s very sunny here, or down near the river where it’s moist. Out of the two, I’m more able to control the moisture of the soil than the sunlight on its leaves, so I decide to plant near the cave. Plus, that gives me easier access. Actually, thinking about it, I’ll probably have to protect them from marauding animals. Or maybe Spike will be able to do that. Hmm.

Speaking of, once I choose my spot, it’s Spike’s job to do the task that I Dominated him for. Digging. Calling him over, he gets up from the sunny spot where he’s been lazily sunbathing, trotting over to me. He stretches as he get to me, opening his mouth widely in a yawn, giving me a very good look at his teeth.

These are actually sharper than I’d thought they would be, a good two thirds of them pointed. Not like Kalanthia’s of course. Spike has canines, or some teeth that look like them, but they’re further to the front of his mouth than mine are. They’re a bit longer proportionally than mine are, but nothing like Kalanthia’s killer fangs. Behind his canines, he has some other smaller triangular teeth, and then right at the back, he has some molars. These are mostly similar to mine, probably for the same reasons, but they’re also a bit pointier.

I don’t get enough time during that brief yawn to see whether the molars fit together top and bottom, but I guess they’d have to – I’ve confirmed that Spike is definitely herbivorous, but given the other teeth he has, I have to guess that he’s an insectivore as well. Based on what I’ve seen so far, I doubt he’s a predator of anything bigger than an insect – he’s just not quick enough to catch small animals which are usually fast-moving, and anything bigger than half his size would probably be too much to handle.

It’s interesting to make guesses about Spike’s diet based on his teeth, but not what I’d been planning to do with my afternoon. Doing my best to give clear instructions, I set Spike to digging a furrow. Deciding to experiment a bit, I try to ‘push’ images at him mentally of what I want him to do. I don’t know whether it makes much of a difference, but for sure he follows the instructions very well and my little vegetable plot is quickly established.

As predicted, Spike’s horn breaks up the ground nicely, and he even clears up the roots in that area which will help me further. Of course, that wasn’t some sign of proactivity or predicting my needs: he was just peckish and the roots looked tasty, but it’s still useful. Once he’s cleared a surface area about twice as long as he is and half again as wide, it’s time to dig deeper to give the samova beans’ roots some already-broken earth to grow through.

I check on my chimney a few times while he’s working to deepen and lengthen the trench, and I’m pleased with how it’s coming on. The clay has hardened nicely and I can only see a couple of minor cracks. Since I’m not trying to make it water-tight, I don’t mind about the cracks, though I’ll probably smooth on a bit more clay when it’s cool to make sure they don’t compromise the structure’s integrity. Ultimately though, the clay is just filler and the stones should bear most of the weight by themselves. If I trusted my dry-stone walling skills, I might have tried to build without clay, but I don’t, so haven’t.

Briefly checking on Spike again, I realise that he’s almost done. Deciding to kill two birds with one stone, I fetch an item from where I’ve stored it in my alcove, then wait for Spike to finish.

“Hey, Spike, are you thirsty?” I ask. About to remind him about the two taps, one tap system, I’m surprised when he taps twice without prompting. Huh...smart. Something to bear in mind. For now though… “OK, let’s go to the river, then.”

Down by the river bank, he takes a long drink and I fill my canteen and my wok, the item I retrieved. It’s the first time I’ve tried to test putting an open container of water into my Inventory and I’m pleased when it works, though a bit confused too. Why does an open container of water get accepted when the open satchel didn’t? Is it because it’s a liquid? Or because there’s only one item inside? Or is this something special about water.

Hit by a brainwave, I try to put water directly into my Inventory, imagining ‘pouring’ it into one of the slots. Unfortunately, this doesn’t work. So an open container of water is acceptable, but water without any container isn’t. It would be good to eventually get an explanation for how this whole Inventory thing works: sometimes it just seems so illogical.

Placing the wok carefully just inside the entrance to my alcove, I head back out to the trench. I pull the five remaining samova beans out of my satchel and push them gently into the soft, disturbed earth of the trench. I’m careful to not bury them too deep – apparently they like to be about five centimetres below ground level. The depth that Spike has dug down to should be perfect for them – the trench Spike has dug is about twenty-five centimetres at its deepest point. That should mean that the roots of my (hopefully) growing samova plants will have an easy job, to begin with, at least.

Having covered the beans up, I use my canteen to water them in. The greedy soil absorbs the water quickly and, unfortunately, my canteen isn’t all that big, so I have to return to the river twice before I’ve properly doused them. Actually, that’s a thought – maybe I should create a bigger water container out of my new clay? I’m going to need to water these plants every day, probably, so in the interests of saving time, being able to carry more water at one time is a good investment. On the other hand, it’s a big investment of time – creating a watertight jug is a far cry from creating a rough chimney, not to mention the fact that I’d have to fire it which involves digging a pit, and then making sure the fire burns at the right temperature for the right length of time...

Well, I’ll see how arduous the watering is first, then decide whether it’s worth creating a bigger container just for this. My planting done, I take a moment to look at the rich, disturbed earth. It’s always amazing to think that a tiny seed can turn into a massive plant; even an oak comes from an acorn.

The thought brings back a memory unbidden. My father used to like gardening, and would spend many hours in the back yard taking care of the plants. I remember that I had to grow a bean for school. I must have been eight or nine at the time.

“Water and warmth, that’s what these need right now, Markus,” I hear him saying to me, his voice so clear that I could swear he’s next to me now. “But not too much of each. And when the roots start coming out, they’ll need something to hold onto, so use a bit of that kitchen towel to wrap the bean.”

Sniffing, I roughly swipe away a tear that threatens to fall. I wish I’d spent more time with him gardening. I wish I’d done a lot of things.

“No use crying now,” I tell myself, speaking aloud angrily. “He’s dead, and that’s all there is to it. And you’re in a different world and need to get your head back in the game.” Looking around, I spot Spike looking wary. I tense and look around quickly, my adrenaline kicking into gear. Are we about to be attacked? Here?

Not seeing any signs of danger, I frown and look back at Spike. Then, a flash of realisation hits me. He’s not wary about being attacked. At least, not by any outside creature; he’s wary about being attacked by me.

“Hey,” I tell him, gentling my tone. “I’m not angry at you, I promise. I’m...angry at myself.” It’s true, I realise. I’m angry that despite what happened to my mum as a teenager, I didn’t spend enough time with my dad. I wasted time with allowing him to push me away, with my teenage troubles, with being unwilling to overcome the generational divide… And now he’s dead and I don’t have the option any more.

The grief threatening to pull me into a black depression once more, I forcibly direct my thoughts to more useful, immediate concerns. At least Spike looks more relaxed – clearly whatever message he got was enough to ease his fears about being attacked.

“Spike, I want you to guard this area. When the new shoots come up, I want you to make sure that nothing damages them. If they’re threatened by something that you can’t handle, let me know, but otherwise drive the other creatures off. Kill them if you want to, but make sure the plants stay safe.” Once more, I accompany the words with images and a sense of importance, since that seems to improve Spike’s capacity to understand what I want. Then I consider something. “You can go and eat and drink when you need to, but make sure you don’t leave the plants for very long.” It’s hard to know if my follower’s definition of ‘very long’ is the same as mine, but short of doing the guarding myself, I figure I don’t have much choice but to trust him.

And ultimately, growing the samova beans isn’t a question of life and death – I’m sure I’ll find other things to eat here, and besides, meat is readily available, even if boring after a short time. They would, however, be a good addition to my diet – full of fibre and lots of nutrients which meat doesn’t tend to have, there’s a reason why Nicholas included them in my ration pack.

After the porcupig has taken up a guarding position – while still relaxing in the sun – I head back indoors to try and do something else about my food situation.