\|/ Turn 2
I didn't die in my sleep.
I fell asleep from sheer exhaustion after writing everything. I was hugging the journal, curled into a ball when I woke up.
The early light was very cold, despite me huddling next to a tree, I didn't have a blanket or anything. I'd have frozen without the suit.
I was so hungry, but I had to save the last ration bar for midlight.
I decided to, despite everything, see what the alien was up to. If I could catalogue what it was doing (from a much greater distance) maybe I could be useful. Or I could be clinging onto anything to keep me busy. If I wasn't busy, I would be thinking, and thinking about everything...
…
So that's how I followed the direction back towards the alien ship. I had fled in mostly one direction, and the sickening sweet taste that still lingered in the forest was enough to help guide me back to the alien. I retraced the path and followed the taste.
On the way I saw a bunch of berry bushes. The plentiful berries varied greatly, from purple to yellow, a multitude of colors. The air tasted sweet, sour, salty and bitter all at at the same time, overwhelming my senses. I couldn't differentiate which had which taste. I was so desperate that I wanted to eat some on the spot, but I managed to force myself to keep going. Being poisoned is the last thing I want.
Eventually, after about a mark (which I didn't remember running that much last night), I got to the alien ship crash site. The alien ship was but a distant, melted memory of what it used to be.
This time, from much farther away and hidden behind a tree and some bushes (damn these berries, making my head spin with their air taste), I watched the alien.
It was up, much less manic looking this time (though I didn't trust it in the slightest way to approach it). It was being productive. There were remnants of a campfire on the floor. It had used the tree which it had demolished to make a campfire. I cannot describe how much I needed warmth last night. How did it even start a fire??
Now, it was dragging a part of a parachute from its ship. The melted ship was in ruins, but the parachute seems to have survived. It was likely one of the parachutes that had detached or gotten tangled and didn't get melted. It then picked up the hatchet with its free arm and started chopping parts of the parachute.
The sight, the reminder of what this thing was so willing to do, made me shiver.
I decided that that was enough alien watching and left.
What should I do? I thought to myself.
I have no idea how to survive in the wilderness. I needed to actually do something productive to stay alive. I sat down (having made a generous distance between me and the alien) on a rock, lightbathing, to think for a bit.
SILT would've made fun of me for being confused: "Sitting on a rock won't help you survive, now will it?"
I keep talking to myself, imagining it's SILT.
…
I need to focus. Survival. What do I know about survival…?
I know the basic things. What to take care of.
I decided to list out my priorities mentally.
Water, food, warmth.
Fortunately, water isn't a problem for me, Thornkin are essentially walking water filters.
Food is, however.
I looked up at the sky. It was about midlight. I took the ration bar and stared at it. It had the only familiar air taste.
That was my last meal before I would have to scavenge. I had no idea how to scavenge.
I took the ration bar and shoved it down my snout like a mad animal.
I was so damn hungry, and I would continue to be.
I needed to figure out how to find proper food.
I couldn't hunt; I am the prey on this planet. That mad alien was obviously designed to hunt.
I wasn't. Any other Scale would be better in that regard.
…
Warmth, it was already a problem.
Last night I was shivering, and I felt slower. Without my suit I would've frozen, and it doesn't seem like it's going to get any warmer.
I needed to figure something out. If starving didn't get to me, coldness would.
I spent the rest of the turn gathering leaves and anything that conserves heat. By evening, I had a considerable amount of foliage, and a few sticks.
I hatched a plan.
I took the foliage and crushed bits of it in my hand. The sticky ooze worked as glue, and I made what is essentially a cloak. It's not very stable, but it will work as a blanket. I'll continue to work on it for the next few turns, make it thicker and stable. I loathe how it sticks to my scales, but it's better than the feeling of being frozen alive. At least the air taste is mild.
I took the sticks and glued them together using the same tactic. The bundle is about my height, and it works as a type of staff. I put it next to a mold covered tree. If I got lucky the "mold" would spread to the sticks, and I would have a "torch".
…
Now I'm here, writing this, next to the same tree as last turn. I have to admit I'm a bit proud of myself. At least I'm doing something aside from weeping...
I think SILT would be proud. In a sarcastic way, but proud.
…
I also drew a map of the forest. I'm about 200 lengths from the alien. Since it didn't seem to notice me, I think it's a safe distance. I pray to the suns that it be a safe distance. I'll add some landmarks for orientation next turn.
Haven't found any water yet. Still need to figure out food. When I go mad enough from hunger, I'll try the berries.
I swear I saw an eye just now. I was thinking about what to write next and I saw what looked like an eye in the darkness.
Am I already going mad?
I'll just… go to sleep now. It's probably exhaustion.
I hope.