The fire had starved itself down to a pulsing heart of embers, its warmth a fading memory. Elias woke not just to cold, but to a deeper, more insidious chill that had seeped into his bones through the thin barrier of his makeshift shelter.
His throat felt like sandpaper. His head throbbed with a dull ache. Every muscle screamed.
"Status," he rasped, the word barely a whisper.
"Core temperature reads 37.8 Celsius, a mild elevation likely due to systemic stress and inflammation from muscle fatigue and widespread surface abrasions," SAGE's voice was calm, precise, almost clinical in his mind. "Hydration levels are critically low. Immediate water acquisition is paramount."
Elias groaned, forcing himself to move. Every joint protested. Acrid smoke, trapped by the low roof of the lean-to, clung to the air, coating his tongue with the taste of ash and tickling his nose. A wracking cough tore through him as he pushed through the stiff, fragrant barrier of pine boughs, emerging into the pale light of a new day.
He squinted at the forest around him. His hands were cracked and raw, dirt and splinters embedded in his knuckles. The fire still had life. That alone was a victory.
He squatted beside the glowing coals and added thin twigs, coaxing the fire back to life. A flicker caught, then a curl of flame. Satisfied—or as satisfied as a, starving man on an alien planet could be—he stood and surveyed his small camp: the lean-to, the fire pit, a scattering of tools and fibres left from last night's frantic crafting.
A tiny pocket of tenuous order carved from chaos. His engineer's mind, even through the fog of exhaustion, cataloged the inefficiencies, the desperate improvisations, but also acknowledged the fundamental success: survival.
His gaze fell on the fire. Secure that first. Then, water. The thirst was a constant, growing demand.
"Alright, SAGE," he said, his voice steadied by the fire's renewed promise. "Priority one: water. But to get it safely, and to do anything else, I need better tools than a sharp rock."
"Acknowledged. Analysing potential tool designs based on available materials and projected needs. Initial focus: hafted cutting implement."
Elias looked at the flint shard he'd found the day before. It was sharp but hard to hold. His raw hands fumbled, but his engineer's instinct for leverage took over. He walked to his work area — a clear patch of ground near the boulder — and began digging through the scraps.
"SAGE, let's brainstorm a proper handle for this flint. Needs to be secure, something I can actually put force behind."
"Recommend hardwood, ergonomic curvature for handle, secured with cordage. Fire-hardening the wood will increase durability. Palm-length grip optimal for force application."
He selected a smooth, curved stick, stripped the bark, and used the fire to blacken the end. Then, with slow precision, he began shaving and fitting the flint shard into a notch. Twisting cordage around the haft, he pulled it tight until it bit into the groove.
A crude stone knife. Ugly, heavy, but undeniably his.
He tested its edge against a stray piece of bark. It bit satisfyingly.
"One small step," he muttered, managing a wry half-smile.
"A significant improvement in resource processing capability, Elias," SAGE confirmed. "Proceeding to next directive: water acquisition."
"Right."
Elias said, the word a puff of mist in the cool air. He tucked the crude knife into the makeshift cordage belt he'd fashioned yesterday for his bark tunic. It wasn't elegant, but it kept the tool handy. "Water. SAGE, any obvious indicators? Low-lying ground? Specific vegetation that prefers damper soil?"
"Affirmative. Gravity dictates water will collect in depressions. Observe animal trails; they often lead to water sources. Certain plant species, such as Salix myrsinifolia – a local willow – or varieties of Juncus Effusus – rush-like plants – are strong indicators of moisture."
Elias scanned the terrain. The ground sloped gently downwards away from his camp. That seemed a logical direction. "Okay, downhill it is. Keep an eye out, SAGE."
"Monitoring environmental cues."
He moved with a new caution. Yesterday had been a blur of desperate action. Today, though still driven by urgency, he felt a sliver more control, a fraction more awareness. The knife at his hip was a tangible symbol of that.
The forest floor was a tapestry of damp leaves, fallen needles, and mossy rocks. Every rustle in the undergrowth made him jump, his heart thudding. He had no idea what predators roamed this world. The lesser god hadn't exactly provided a wildlife guide.
"SAGE, any large predators common to this biome I should be actively avoiding?"
"Insufficient data for a comprehensive threat assessment. However, based on extrapolated ecological niches from your world, apex predators in a temperate forest often include large canids (dogs), felids (cats), or ursine (bear) species. Recommend maintaining vigilance and avoiding dense thickets where visibility is limited."
"Comforting," Elias muttered, his hand instinctively going to the handle of his knife. It felt laughably inadequate against the thought of a bear or a pack of alien wolves.
He pushed through a curtain of low-hanging branches, wincing as one whipped back and stung his cheek. The ground was definitely softer here, squelching slightly under his bare feet. He saw it then – a patch of vibrant green, greener than the surrounding forest floor, collected around the base of a cluster of unfamiliar, broad-leafed trees.
"SAGE, those plants ahead. Are they what you were talking about?"
"Visual analysis indicates a high probability of Hydrophyllum Virginianum, a species of waterleaf known to thrive in consistently moist soil. Strong likelihood of ground water or a seep nearby."
Hope, sharp and sudden, pricked through Elias's fatigue. He quickened his pace, his eyes darting. And then he heard it – a faint, almost imperceptible trickle.
He pushed aside a large fern, its fronds cool and damp against his skin. There, nestled amongst moss-covered stones, was a tiny spring. Water, clear and impossibly precious, welled up from the earth and trickled away in a miniature stream no wider than his hand.
He knelt, his knees sinking into the soft mud. He scooped up a handful. It was icy cold.
"SAGE, potability?"
"Initial visual assessment suggests clarity. However, without filtration or boiling, consumption carries a risk of microbial contamination. Recommend boiling prior to ingestion."
Elias sighed. Of course. Nothing was ever simple. He didn't have a container to boil water in, let alone carry it.
"Okay. New sub-priority: water vessel. What can we use?"
SAGE's response was immediate. "Viable options include: large, non-porous leaves shaped into a temporary cup, hollowed-out gourds or similar fruit if available, or animal bladder if hunting is successful. More durable options require pottery, which necessitates clay and firing capabilities, or wood carving from a suitable log section, which would require more advanced tools or significant time with current implements."
Elias looked around. No gourds were immediately obvious. Animal bladder was a problem for another, more desperate day. Large leaves… He spotted some nearby, broad and waxy-looking. Using his new knife, he carefully sliced one from its stem. The flint edge, though rough, did the job surprisingly well, better than tearing.
He tried to fold it into a cup, but it was too brittle, cracking along the veins.
"These leaves are too fragile, SAGE."
"Observe the Betula Minora – the birch species you used for your fire drill. Its bark can be carefully peeled in sheets and is relatively waterproof. With careful scoring and folding, a rudimentary container might be fashioned."
Elias looked up. A stand of the pale-barked trees stood a short distance away. "Worth a try."
Elias approached one of the trees, its pale bark almost luminous in the filtered forest light. He ran a hand over its surface. It was smoother than he expected, with horizontal striations.
"SAGE, how do I get a decent sheet of this bark off? Enough for a container."
"A vertical incision, followed by careful peeling, is most effective. The bark separates from the cambium layer. A section approximately a few hundred centimetres square should suffice for a rudimentary boiling vessel. Aim for minimal tearing to maintain integrity."
His stone knife, though an improvement, was still a crude tool. He pressed the flint edge against the bark, applying steady pressure and scoring a deep line. He made a second, parallel cut about a foot away, then a horizontal cut connecting them at the top. Using the duller back of the flint and his fingers, he began to pry. The bark resisted, then, with a satisfying rip, began to peel away from the trunk in a surprisingly supple sheet. It was thinner than he'd imagined, like a stiff, leathery paper, leaving a raw, pale scar on the tree.
He laid the rectangle of bark on a flat rock near the spring. The inner surface was a pale creamy color.
"Okay, SAGE. Folding this into something watertight. Suggestions?"
"A simple folded box construction is most feasible. Score shallow lines where folds are desired. Avoid cutting through. The corners can be pinched and secured with cordage or thin, sharpened wooden pegs."
"Cordage it is," Elias grunted, already eyeing the leftover fibers at his belt. He used the tip of his knife to carefully score lines, visualizing a simple open-topped box. His hands, though still sore, moved with a growing familiarity, the engineer in him appreciating the challenge of material limitations.
The folding was tricky. The bark wanted to crack along the grain if he wasn't careful. He worked slowly, coaxing it into shape. For the corners, he punched small holes with the point of his knife and threaded through thin strands of the fibrous cordage he'd made yesterday, knotting them tight.
The result was misshapen, lopsided, and undeniably rustic. It looked less like a container and more like something a child might make in a craft class. But it had four sides and a bottom.
"Moment of truth," he muttered, carrying his creation to the spring. He dipped it in, holding his breath.
Water filled the bark box. It held. Mostly. A few tiny drips seeped from one corner where his fold wasn't perfect, and another near a cordage tie.
"SAGE, will this leak too much for boiling?"
"The current leakage rate is minor. Evaporation during boiling will likely exceed water loss through seepage. It is functional for immediate needs."
Relief washed over Elias, so potent it almost buckled his knees. He hadn't realized how tense he'd been. He carefully filled the bark container, the cool water a balm against his skin.
Now for the fire. He couldn't put the bark vessel directly in the flames, it would char and burn through instantly.
"SAGE, boiling water in a combustible container. How did ancient peoples manage that?"
"By introducing heated stones into the water. Select non-porous, non-explosive stones, heat them thoroughly in the fire, then carefully transfer them to the water-filled vessel using green sticks as tongs. Repeat until boiling is achieved."
Of course. Hot rocks. It was ingenious in its simplicity.
He gathered a handful of smooth, fist-sized stones from the edge of the clearing, ones that SAGE confirmed were "likely granitic or basaltic, suitable for heat transfer, low risk of spalling."
Back at his campsite, the fire was burning steadily. He nestled the stones amongst the hotter coals. Then, while they heated, he turned his attention to his shelter. The lean-to had kept the worst of the wind off, but it was drafty and the ground was cold.
"SAGE, while those rocks heat, let's improve the shelter. More insulation, maybe a better door flap."
"Affirmative. Increasing insulation mass with additional layers of leaves, moss, and boughs will improve thermal retention. A woven screen of flexible branches and leaves, or a larger section of bark, could serve as a windbreak for the entrance."
The next hour was a blur of activity. Gathering more pine boughs, stuffing handfuls of dry leaves and moss into the gaps in his lean-to's walls, finding a wide, relatively flat piece of bark he could prop against the entrance. Each small improvement felt like a victory against the indifferent wilderness.
Finally, the stones in the fire were glowing faintly red. Using two sturdy green sticks he'd sharpened slightly at one end, he carefully lifted the first hot stone. It sizzled as he plucked it from the embers. He carried it to his waiting bark container and, with a hiss and a plume of steam, dropped it in.
He repeated the process, adding stone after stone. The water in the bark box began to bubble around the hot rocks, then to churn. Soon, it was at a rolling boil.
Elias watched, a grim satisfaction settling over him. It wasn't clean tap water from a faucet, but it was safe. He let it boil for several minutes, as SAGE advised, to ensure sterilization.
When it was done, he carefully fished out the stones and set his bark container aside to cool. The smell of hot stone and slightly singed bark filled the air.
The first mouthful of warm, slightly smoky water was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted. It wasn't just hydration; it was a testament. A testament to ingenuity, to resilience, to the faint, flickering hope that maybe, just maybe, he could do this.
He had tools. He had fire. He had water.
"Food, SAGE," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, feeling strength slowly returning. "What's on the menu?"