I yawned and shifted, then kissed her ear tenderly before sliding from the furs gently, so as not to disturb her; tucking them in around her, then kissing her forehead, I rose to my full height and stretched languidly as I stood by the fire. I crouched before the fire, stirring the embers and adding a bit more wood to warm the cave for her before slipping outside. Heading to the stream I washed my face and neck, scattered water over my head and shoulders then rose again to make my way into the Forest. I foraged for firewood, breaking dried fallen limbs into smaller pieces, then gathered them up in my arms returning them to our home and stacking them just inside the door out of the weather.
I took her kettle to the stream filling it with fresh water, and returned it to its place over the fire to warm. I looked to my reclining mate, knowing that her small and supple form would bring much warmth to the furs in the far away lands of nearly continual winter darkness; I watched her dozing peacefully for only a moment more before slipping out again, and away to contend with other concerns.
Soon I moved among the reeds, selected the tallest from among them, bending them low to the ground and cutting them to leave the roots intact, undisturbed to continue to growing tall and strong. Gathering an armful of them I took them to a place in the sun, seated myself and began pulling away the leaves, piling them to save for fire tinder once they dried. I started splitting the long reeds into halves, working them patiently until all of them had been split into multiple pieces. I began crossing them then, one over another bending and lacing them until I had a thin loose mat which spanned about three feet in all directions.
On these I laid a ring of fist sized stones and began bending the loose ends toward the sky; once I had them all turned upwards I gathered the ends together and tied them with a long thin strip of a reed to form a conical shape. Beginning at the ground I threaded other halves of reeds over and under the ribs of the cone, first pushing then pulling each one to position and tighten them. Most of the early morning I worked at this task until I had a suitable basket for foraging. I worked diligently to form a closely woven and strong arching handle over the mouth of the basket before leaving it in the sun to dry so it retained it's shape.
I gathered up the leaves and trimmings with my hands, taking them to our cave and placing them beside the firewood, out of the weather to dry. Again I departed, returning to the Forest to scout for fruit and berries that would be needed for drying and storage; moving quietly among the many trees and shrubs and vines, I noted the locations where I found food growing wild for the taking.
After this I returned to the water, searching well downstream of Melete's waterfall for a suitable location to build a fish weir; a permanent trap of algae stained stones lain within the living water itself, which would guide fish into a holding area for future use as a readily available food source when needed. I began gathering and piling stones into a loosely jumbled ring beneath the overhanging boughs of a large Temwood tree, where the fish would have cooler water and shade. Intentionally I left gaps among the stones so that water would flow more easily through the weir and smaller fish could escape to continue to live and grow and repopulate the stream.
Extending a line of algae slickened stones toward the middle of the stream, I formed the loosely jumbled wall which would guide fish toward the narrow opening of the pen. I built it to be of sufficient size to hold enough fish to feed us both, without gathering more than we needed for ourselves. I tossed small scraps of food from our previous meal into the water along the bank to attract fish and turtles ahead of the flowing funnel which led to the mouth of the weir.
Moving to the far side of the stream then, I began gathering and tossing stone of all sizes into another loose barrier wall extending downstream toward the middle of the flowing channel to move fish into the current ahead of the weir's funnel. In this way, by saving time and energy from harvesting food, I hoped to have more time for intimate daliances; leisurely tormenting Melete, when I could catch her.
Melete was often covered with mud, and blood, twigs, leaves and who knew what on a day to day basis. I considered simply dragging her into the stream above both barrier walls at the end of each day and just scrubbing her clean whether she liked it, or not. I knew the scents of blood and animal oils in the water would attract fish.
Scrambling among the tumbled stones I climbed, moving silently ever upwards until at last I sat quietly in the cool misty vapors above the waterfall, watching the remaining wisps of the dawn's colors fade away into the warming light of the day. I listened to the voices of the water, the wind, and the forest as I worked on another smaller type of fish trap while thinking of many different things. I enjoyed working with my hands in calm moments of solitude, it allowed my mind the space it needed to expand and contract, sorting my thoughts, working out answers to internal questions, and resolving deeply personal conflicts.
To say that Melete could be a pain in the ass was merely to state the obvious without understanding the reasons; that approach could only be called a casual observation, not a studied examination of the facts, or a viable solution to dealing with her finicky nature. Merely saying that she was a pain in the ass was exactly the same as saying sometimes it rains; both were true, but entirely generalized statements which offered not the least bit of helpful understanding. Where there is no understanding, there is no wisdom and this simply isn't good enough; one can never be prepared, if one doesn't think. That approach only led to standing in the rain while talking about the rain; one should know how to get out of the rain, rather than to simply standing in it to feel it pattering coldly upon their own skin.
She clearly was not overly fond of bathing, while I myself enjoyed it almost daily when I had the opportunity to do so. Perhaps the berries she used to color her skin were hard to come by; perhaps I had gone so long without the sight or sound, the touch or taste, of fresh clean free flowing water that I was simply overindulging in it now. Perhaps the solution, our solution; hers and mine, was somewhere between both of our truths. We are not entitled to those truths we have not fought for ourselves.
I decided I needed to trust the truths of her instincts; she had fought for them, they were hers, and I trusted her. If she wanted to run in camouflage; so be it, but I did not. When the time came I would move north to hunt upon the lands of ice and snow for my own reasons; and then there would be no fresh free flowing water for the taking. It would be locked away as ice and snow, and bathing would go mostly undone until the following thaw.
I stopped my thinking of the woman and the luxury of spending time living easy and free with her now, here in what I considered to be a very tropical environment. It was the warm season now, and she was molten here in her beloved forest, with its towering trees and lush understory filled with food and water for the taking; but in the desperate living conditions of the vast desolations stretching beneath the endless night sky across the polar regions with its barrens of ice and snow and stone? I did not know; I would learn the lesson the depth of time would teach.
I shook my head to free myself of those few remaining thoughts of her which stubbornly refuse to leave my mind; those of her eyes, flickering with gold, wrapped deep within the shadowy darkness of her flowing mane. I tightened the lacings around the upper edge of the bait basket I was making from thin vines and torn reeds. I enjoyed making things myself, that way I always got exactly what I wanted; except with Melete, with her things were always a chaotic compromise of sorts.
The bait basket was a small and simple design, built by hand to last one season and no more; they were strong enough to do what needed to be done without lingering for too long to betray my presence in an area. They were easy enough to make as needed, and I surely wasn't carrying extra weight or going back for a fish trap if I had to abandon camp quickly.
Sometimes things simply happened without warning, and a furious flight was often wiser than a furious fight; if a fight could be avoided when best it should. In my mind a furious fight was the result of only one thing; a hunt. Something had either cornered another thing, or had been cornered by another thing; but always it was one thing hunting another. Soon I would go north to hunt the powerful Nakani, those formidable and ferocious beasts others knew as the Kurii; in their chosen, frozen lands. Seldom this far south did they travel, they were not fond of the heat and water; I suspected they easily overheated below the Tundra, and I knew they did not swim or bathe.
I adjusted the jaws of the bait trap, ensuring that they moved only slightly before closing again to retain their contents within the basket body. These traps I used for placing bait where it could spread its many scents; it's oils and blood and fragments of it flesh and bones; through the water to lure bait fish which drew in larger fish; eating sized fish, drying sized fish. Satisfied that the bait trap would last for the season of catching and drying fish, I estimated how many pounds I would need, smoked and cured, ready to pack and haul as a staple for the long winter to come in places where fresh food was not so often readily at hand as it was here in the Forest. These were my woods and stones and streams for most of, but not all of, the year.
Sliding from the mossy stones where I sat, I began to follow the stream, moving lower into the forested mountainside toward the cave we shared. I would gather the scraps of our previous evening's meal and use them to bait the trap I carried. I collected pieces of fruits and peels, meats, sinew and bone along with scraps of skin and entrails. These things I added to the trap in no particular order, there was no need, hungry fish would investigate any scent in the water. Scent meant food, food meant survival; an so it is with everything that hunts.
Wading into the stream well below Melete's waterfall, I crouched in the water seating the trap to the side of the main current so that it's contents could slowly breakdown in calmer waters and drift then into the current more slowly. Faster currents churned the bait continually, breaking it apart before it's contents could fully ripen in the warmer, shallower waters. I did not want the bait to be wasted in breaking apart too soon; I wanted it to sit in shallower pools where the sun could reach it to warm it, breaking it down more slowly, releasing its bounty more slowly. The rule of fish bait was simple; the more it stank the more it caught. I had learned that lesson long ago; many fish gather in the water where scattered bloating bodies lay rotting in the sun.
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