{A/N: Sorry about the delay, I have a lot of studying to do.}
The vines creaked and groaned under Zoe's weight as she lowered herself toward the ground. Small rocks tumbled around her, dislodged by the swaying ropes. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she carefully controlled her descent, maintaining a steady pace to prevent the vines from wearing through.
The afternoon sun beat down on her back as she finally reached the ground. With a relieved sigh, she leaned back against the hard stone surface, taking a moment to rest her sore hands.
She tilted her head toward the small pile of hematite she had dropped from above. After gathering her breath, she pushed herself to her knees and crawled over to her fallen equipment. First, she donned her cloak, then methodically reattached the various pouches across her body before grabbing her spear to use as a makeshift crutch.
With delicate care, she retrieved the two eggs she had taken from the nest and tucked them into a small pocket on the inside of her garments. Next, she collected the high-quality ore, placing it into her pouches. She paused to examine the piece of platinum in her waistband before securing it in another pouch.
"Okay, it's time to get home," she announced to the empty air. "I've got some iron so I can get some work done while I heal."
Zoe began making her way down the mountain and through the forest, carefully manoeuvring through thick greenery while keeping weight off her injury. As she walked, a pungent smell caught her attention—the unmistakable scent of death and decay.
'Strange,' she thought. 'With the amount of scavengers in this forest, most corpses shouldn't last long enough to rot. I should carefully investigate.'
Following her nose, Zoe adjusted her path slightly. The only sounds were her barely audible breath and the occasional crunch of her spear-crutch against the ground.
Weaving through the trees, she noticed cracked branches overhead, forming a path deeper into the forest. She slowed her pace even further, treading cautiously through the thick underbrush until she spotted a trail in the dirt ahead.
After several minutes of careful approach, she reached a clearing and discovered the source of the smell—the half-eaten remains of the eagle she had killed days ago, buried up to its neck in dirt.
Sniffing the air, she detected a slight discrepancy in the scent, likely a new pheromone the creature had evolved over time.
"Hmm, what sort of practical application could not having the body eaten even have?" she mused. "Evolution seems to have gone haywire while everyone is petrified. The quicker I can get some equipment made, the quicker I can figure out what's causing this."
Sighing, she stepped fully into the clearing and approached the carcass. Poking it with a stick, she discovered the body was being consumed by ants.
"Hmm, the ants aren't eating the feathers or the bones," she observed. "I suppose I can leave this here for now and come back when I'm healed. It must be the ants making the scent I smell—that's quite clever."
Mentally marking the location, Zoe resumed her journey. After a few more minutes of walking, she reached the river and the simple bridge she had constructed. Looking at the thin parallel poles, she realized a significant flaw in her design.
"Shit," she muttered. "How am I meant to cross the bridge with only one good foot? I designed it with two parallel beams that I can walk along."
Approaching the bridge with determination, she tentatively placed her crutch on one beam to test its stability.
Then, stepping forward with her other foot, she tested her balance. Despite wobbling slightly, she remained upright. With growing confidence, she carefully traversed the bridge, breathing a sigh of relief upon reaching the other side.
Once across, she unloaded the ore she'd been carrying and placed it by the forge before heading toward the main area of her camp.
'I need to make a proper crutch and a brace before I injure myself even further,' she thought.
Taking her blades, she moved to her stockpile of bamboo. After selecting a suitable thin piece, she sat down and began cutting it up.
She worked tirelessly for several hours, crafting a strong and reliable brace for her leg. When that was finished, she began whittling another piece of bamboo into a proper crutch.
As she worked, the sun set over the horizon, and her stomach growled in protest. Completing the crutch, she rose and moved toward her smoker to retrieve some dinner. Grabbing a piece of tough jerky, she made her way to the extinguished fire and chewed thoughtfully.
'The sun is going down,' she considered. 'I should get to sleep so my injury can heal—but first, I should treat my eye. The shells should be done by now.'
After finishing her sparse dinner, Zoe stood and stretched. Looking around she spotted the charred remains of the campfire she had used to heat the shells and walked over to investigate.
Brushing off the ash, she collected a few of the brittle shells and tucked them into her pouches before carrying them to her workbench, where she crushed them thoroughly.
Within minutes, she had prepared a concoction of mixed ingredients and crushed shells, the calcium hydroxide serving as the key ingredient in her makeshift soap. Almost finished with her preparations, she grabbed a length of cloth made from plant fibres and made her way to the river.
At the water's edge, she carefully peeled off the leaf covering her wound, wincing as the dried blood caused it to pull painfully at the injury. Pushing through the discomfort, she removed the leaf completely and set it aside. Small trails of blood traced down her face from the reopened wound.
Leaning over the river, she used the faint moonlight to examine the wound in her reflection. Starting at about the middle of her right forehead, the cut traced a straight line directly across her eye. The eyeball itself remained intact, despite the mangled eyelid that protected it.
The cut measured about a centimetre wide and equally deep at its worst point. Near her cheek, she could faintly discern a piece of exposed bone. Wincing, she used a piece of cloth to gently dab around the wound, cleaning away the blood.
Once the area was clean, she applied her soap to another cloth and carefully sterilized the entire wound, grimacing as the damaged tissue shifted beneath her touch.
"Fucking bird," she growled. "This shit is going to need stitches to heal properly, and I don't have any thread thin and strong enough to work."
Grumbling under her breath, she folded a sterilized piece of cloth to serve as padding for the wound. She placed it carefully over the injury, then began wrapping a thin strip of cloth around her head to hold it in place. Cold sweat ran down her temples as her body shuddered in pain.
Without further delay, she headed back to her raised shelter to rest. Lying on her bed, she stared at the roof, gradually calming her racing mind. Eventually, her eyes drifted closed as exhaustion claimed her.
************************
The dim light of early morning stretched across the land, filtering through gaps in the walls before reaching Zoe's bleary eyes.
"Urgh, I feel like shit," she groaned, squinting at the brightness. "Wait, is that the sun already? It's worse than I thought if I slept so long. I've got to get these wounds healed soon."
Swinging her legs off the bed, she reached for her crutch and carefully stood. She tested her injured leg tentatively, wincing as she applied weight to it. The pain, while still present, was noticeably duller than the previous day.
"Okay, time to get going," she decided. "Today's job is to smelt the iron."
Determined, she made her way to the riverbank where her forge was set up. She slotted a spare gear into place, and the water wheel began pumping air through her makeshift bellows into the furnace. With a satisfied nod, she temporarily removed the gear to pause the process.
Moving methodically, she used her stockpile of wood to start a fire. While it heated, she moved to another area and began crushing the ore she had collected into tiny pieces, which she then transferred into a clay crucible.
Using wooden tongs, she placed the crucible inside the furnace before sealing it with a spare brick. Returning to the mechanism, she slotted the gear back into place, and the bellows resumed their work.
"That should be ready in a few hours," she murmured. "For now, I need to make some stitches."
Heading back to her work area, she gathered a set of bones and a knife. Sitting down, she began whittling the bones into a series of tiny needles.
As she worked, the hours passed quietly. Within the furnace, the ore slowly heated and melted. Occasionally, she paused her work to replenish the fuel before returning to her task.
By nightfall, the iron had melted completely and begun to separate as impurities rose to the surface. Having finished crafting the needles and some thread, Zoe returned to the river and unwound her bandage.
Examining the wound, she noted that the edges were puffy and showed clear signs of healing, though the area was hot to the touch—likely her body's response to potential infection.
Taking one of her bone needles, she carefully threaded a piece of string through the tiny loop. Raising it to her face, she took several deep breaths before slowly piercing the edge of her wound.
Grimacing, she mentally disconnected her hand from the main thought process, effectively compartmentalizing the pain. Using a segmented portion of her mind, she held her hand perfectly steady as she continued working despite the excruciating discomfort.
Blood dripped down her face as she methodically stitched the nearly twenty-centimetre wound closed. She pulled the thread tight, wincing as it dug into her flesh, but managed to seal the injury after several arduous minutes.
Falling onto her back, she stared up at the darkening sky. Stars swam through her vision as the edges began to darken ominously.
Dipping her hand in the nearby water, she used the shock to recover her senses.
She jolted upright, gasping for air. Working quickly, she bandaged the wound to prevent further blood loss. Once it was secured, she carefully stood.
Though her head felt light and she stumbled slightly, she recovered her balance quickly. Making sure she wouldn't fall, she made her way toward the furnace.
Grabbing her makeshift tongs and moulds, she collected herself enough to work. Breaking open the furnace, she used the tongs to extract the crucible of molten metal. Tilting it slightly, she allowed the lighter slag to pour onto the ground.
"Okay, slow and steady now," she whispered to herself.
Moving the crucible over the mould, she began filling it with the molten metal. The metal plate slowly set as she moved on to the smaller components nearby. After pouring out the last of the metal, she tossed the burning tongs aside and grabbed another pair she had prepared earlier.
Using the fresh tongs, she carefully picked up the hot metal parts and dipped them into water. The cool liquid quenched the metal, ensuring its future hardness.
With the urgent tasks complete, Zoe rose unsteadily to her feet. She stumbled toward her bed, exhaustion overwhelming her. Upon reaching the small bed, she immediately collapsed, her muddled brain barely registering the comfort as sleep claimed her.