Amukelo's days in the cave had passed. After the fight with the griffin and his close encounter with the troll, he focused on rest and healing.
Amukelo woke one day with a groan, his muscles still aching from the exertions of the past few days, but he managed his worst wounds, and they no longer threatened his life. The faint light of dawn filtered through the cracks in the makeshift wall he had built, and the cave was cold, but he felt safe.
As he stretched his arms, his eyes landed on the beaver pelts he had set to dry the night before. Their smaller size made them much easier to work with compared to the hog's thick hide, and he could already tell that they were ready for use.
He took his dagger and began cutting the pelt into smaller sections. He worked slowly, making sure not to waste any material.
After some time of careful cutting and stitching with sinew threads, he finished the small belt bag. It was a crude creation, far from anything a skilled leatherworker might produce, but it was functional. He tied it securely to his belt and tested its capacity, placing a few small tools and his sharpening stone inside. Satisfied with his work, he moved on to the second project: a water bag.
This task was more challenging. The beaver's hide was pliable, but Amukelo needed to create a seal to ensure the water wouldn't leak. He shaped the hide into a pouch, stitching the edges tightly with sinew, but he realized he lacked a proper stopper for the opening. A piece of wood, carved to fit snugly, would do the trick, but he didn't have any wood on hand. With the sun still high in the sky, he decided to venture out to find what he needed.
After some time, Amukelo reached a clearing in the forest, where the trees gave way to open grassland. He crouched low, scanning the area for any signs of danger. Just as he was about to step into the clearing, he heard a deep, rhythmic thumping that made the ground beneath him tremble slightly. His heart skipped a beat as he froze in place.
Peering through the underbrush, Amukelo spotted the source of the noise: a troll walking through the clearing with a group of goblins trailing behind it. The goblins chattered among themselves. The troll carried a large club over its shoulder.
He stayed perfectly still, watching the group from his hidden vantage point. They were moving higher up the mountain, likely drawn by the events of the past few days. Amukelo cursed under his breath, realizing that his actions might have inadvertently pushed the goblins closer to his territory. "Tsk... they're more active up here now," he murmured to himself. "This side of the mountain is becoming too dangerous. Maybe the other side of the mountain is safer."
Once the group had passed, Amukelo quietly retreated into the forest. He resumed his search for firewood and the perfect piece of wood for his water bag stopper. By the time he returned to his cave, the sun was already dipping lower in the sky. He set down his findings and resumed his work, carving the small piece of wood into a tapered shape that fit snugly into the opening of the water bag. It was a slow process, but by the time the sun began to set, he had completed the project. The water bag wasn't perfect, but it would serve its purpose well enough.
Once his beaver supplies were running low, Amukelo decided to spend the day hunting. With his belt bag and water bag securely attached, he descended the mountain, this time heading toward the side of the mountain he had never seen. This side of the mountain was less forested, with patches of open ground that made it easier to see potential threats from a distance. The terrain was rougher, but Amukelo found it oddly calming.
As he moved through the sparse trees, he spotted a mountain goat grazing near the edge of a rocky outcrop. It was the perfect target—large enough to provide a long time worth of food, but not so large that it would be difficult to carry back to the cave. Amukelo crouched low, moving slowly and deliberately to avoid startling the animal. He drew one of his daggers.
The goat noticed him just as he was about to throw. It bolted, leaping gracefully over the rocks, but Amukelo was ready. He hurled his dagger, striking the animal in the side. The goat stumbled, its movements faltering as it tried to escape, but Amukelo was already closing the distance. He reached the animal and delivered a swift, merciful blow with his sword to end its suffering.
Amukelo dragged the goat back up the mountain. He skinned the goat carefully, setting the hide aside to dry, and began preparing the meat for cooking.
As the sun set, casting warm hues across the mountain, Amukelo leaned back against the wall of the cave. He watched the flames and listened to the crackle of the fire, feeling a rare sense of contentment.
After a few days, Amukelo felt confident enough to venture farther. He packed his small makeshift bag with dried meat and filled his water bag at a nearby stream, securing both items tightly to his belt. It was time to explore the side of the mountain he had avoided so far.
The terrain on this side of the mountain was less familiar, and the thought of encountering goblins or worse kept his senses sharp.
As he moved farther down, the forest began to thin, the trees becoming more sparse. He scanned the area, noting the lack of animal tracks or signs of life. It was strange—no vegetation, no bones, no signs of predators or prey. It made the open space feel unnervingly empty, yet oddly intriguing.
Amukelo approached the edge of the barren valley cautiously. The contrast between the lush mountain forest and the desolate terrain was stark, like stepping into an entirely different world. The ground was cracked and dry, the earth a pale, almost ashen color. Jagged rocks jutted out at odd angles, and the silence was oppressive.
Despite his wariness, curiosity drove Amukelo forward. He made his way to the base of the next mountain, where the terrain began to rise again.
Then, without warning, a loud, thunderous noise shattered the silence. Amukelo froze, his heart pounding in his chest. The sound was distant but unmistakably powerful, like the rumble of a massive boulder crashing down the mountain. He quickly ducked behind a large rock, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his sword.
Peering out cautiously, Amukelo's breath caught in his throat. Across the far side of the valley, something massive was moving. A towering figure, at least twenty meters tall, lumbered through the barren landscape. It was a golem, its body made of jagged stone and covered in cracks that glowed faintly with an eerie, molten light. Each step it took shook the ground, sending small tremors through the valley.
Amukelo trembled as he watched the golem. He had never seen anything like it before. The sheer scale of the creature was overwhelming, and he knew that if it spotted him, he wouldn't stand a chance. He held his breath, his body pressed tightly against the rock as if that alone could make him invisible. The golem turned slightly, its glowing eyes scanning the terrain, but it didn't seem to notice him. After a few long monents, it began to move in a direction that led away from where he was hiding.
The golem was moving away, and the sun was still high in the sky. He decided to press on, reasoning that the creature's path wouldn't intersect with his. Still, his nerves were on edge as he resumed his climb up the mountain.
As he ascended, the terrain grew even harsher. The barren ground gave way to jagged rocks and narrow paths that forced Amukelo to watch every step carefully. When he finally reached a higher vantage point, he paused to catch his breath and survey the land beyond. What he saw made him hesitate.
The other side of the mountain was just as unforgiving as the valley he had crossed. The terrain stretched out in jagged, lifeless expanses, with no sign of vegetation or water. It was a harsh and unwelcoming sight, and yet, something about it intrigued him. The mountain seemed to hold secrets, and Amukelo couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to discover.