Now, a faint sea fog hung over the nearshore, and through the mist, the icebergs and shoals on the sea looked like illusory mirages.
The continuous washing of the seawater brought some strange things, such as many scattered dead branches lying on the mudflats, and at intervals, many whole withered trees, rotted by the seawater.
In addition, there were animal carcasses; a huge spine was half-buried in the sea to Simon's left, perhaps an elephant bone, stark white, with an unusually wild and primitive feel.
The Mage College in the distance was faintly visible, like a giant wearing a crown and peering out to sea, but Simon glanced at it and no longer paid attention.
He guided the Wolf Pack to walk along the currents rushing into the land for a while and found that there were indeed many fish, sparsely distributed in the water, including salmon and cod, looking sluggish and barely moving.
One female wolf ran into the seawater, the water surface just reaching her belly.
She tilted her head, fiddled with her paws for a while, then dipped her head into the water, and surprisingly, she pulled out a fat, strong fish.
This wolf can fish!
Simon's plan was to dig traps beside the current, allowing fish to naturally swim into them, and since the traps would be shallow, the Wolf Pack could easily catch fish.
Now, with one skilled wolf, they would quickly become proficient at fishing.
The female wolf's fishing behavior was acknowledged by the rest of the Wolf Pack, and they were all eager to try, but they quickly retreated again.
Not long after the female wolf came ashore, the accumulated water on her body froze.
She shivered, lowering her head to clear the ice chips from her front legs with her muzzle.
Due to her body shape, her movements were clumsy.
Simon dismounted from the male wolf's back and used his flexible fingers to scrape off the ice layer from the female wolf's leg; his fingernails were harder than ice and could easily break off large chunks of ice.
He worked for a while, and the other Icefield Wolves, who had been standing by watching, lazily gathered around and began licking the female wolf's fur, perhaps hoping to melt the ice chips with the warmth of their mouths, but unfortunately, their saliva was too abundant, re-freezing the female wolf who had just escaped the torment of freezing.
Another one was secretly eating the salmon that had just been caught.
Simon shooed them away; they all looked innocent and whimpered at him.
With the female wolf's previous experience, the Wolf Pack was somewhat wary of the seawater, strolling on the wet and icy mudflats or staring blankly at the sea.
Suddenly, a slender, eerie blue light beam shot from the center of the Mage College, reaching deep into the sky.
Simon gazed at it, while the Wolf Pack became restless.
There was powerful energy in that light beam, an invisible sense of impact transmitted from afar, a feeling Simon was quite familiar with.
It was like the dream from last night, that sensation of light seeping into his bones.
The difference was that the energy in this light beam was more intense.
The light of this world comes from outside, entering through the pores on the world's surface; this light is magic energy, shaping the souls of all things in the world.
The light beam from the Winterhold Mage College shone for a long time; Simon watched to his satisfaction and then no longer paid attention.
The ice chips on the female wolf were mostly cleared; the remaining ones were deep in her fur and would be difficult to remove unless all her fur was shaved off.
The Wolf Pack also realized that the light beam in the sky posed no threat, so they relaxed again.
Simon found a bend in the current where the terrain was relatively low-lying, which would make building a trap much easier.
He used his fingernails to break open the frozen soil and dug vigorously.
Such primitive labor reminded him of his days as a Repair Bug, the difference being that he had tools back then, but now, as a human, he could only use his bare hands.
His fingernails were constantly wearing down.
The Wolf Pack, seeing him do such strange things, also curiously began to dig holes, but they weren't helping at all, just finding a spot for themselves and casually pawing a couple of times.
Simon had only dug less than a foot down when he hit a large rock; his fingernail scratched a thin mark on the stone, and then he felt a sharp pain in his fingertip.
His fingernail's hardness was lower than that of the gray rock, somewhat like throwing an egg at a stone.
Simon frowned, no longer struggling with the stone, and began digging to the side.
This stone was quite large and buried very deep.
Simon dug a shallow pit with a diameter of three meters and an average depth of one foot, with the stone in the middle, looking like a solitary peak.
He piled the loose soil to the edge of the pit, forming a low wall.
After completing this work, Simon was still full of energy, but five hours had already passed.
He had nursed again midway, with the same female wolf that had just caught the fish; she was still lactating and must have had cubs before encountering Simon, though it seemed they hadn't survived.
This female wolf was more mature than the other one in the Wolf Pack, had experienced more, and had a stable personality, with several bare scars on her waist and abdomen.
Simon recognized every member of the Wolf Pack, but he didn't plan to name them.
Names are strange things.
Naming is endowing an object with personality; with a name, an individual becomes an independent existence.
Simon didn't plan to name the wolves, just as he didn't plan to name himself.
Perhaps he would have a nickname in the future, but it was unlikely he would have a name.
A nickname is different from a name.
A nickname personifies a certain characteristic of something.
It's easy to understand when applied to humans; when applied to non-human things, it's equivalent to scientific names and common names.
Simon admitted that he had given the right to name to his mother, and he himself did not intend to take a name.
If he had a nickname in the future, he would let others call him by his nickname.
Simon's strange philosophy had precedents, such as the nameless, or the unknown...
He focused on his work, carefully evaluating his creation.
After digging the pit and building the embankment, he dug an intake channel of the same depth as the fishing pit, just reaching the edge of the current, but not yet connected.
Now, this small construction looked like a bottle with a narrow neck and a wide body.
Simon then picked up small stones and built a crescent shape with an outward-pointing angle at the end of the intake channel, designed to prevent fish that entered from leaving.
By now, a fishing trap was truly complete.
It had taken Simon a long time; he had originally wanted the Wolf Pack to help, but they were only interested in playing, and it was only because Simon's physical recovery was quick that he wasn't left just staring blankly.
After finally confirming everything was in order, he opened the channel between the fishing pit and the current.
Seawater immediately rushed into the pit, and in a short while, it reached the surrounding embankment, then stopped changing.
The Wolf Pack was quite surprised by this trap, stepping all over the embankment, causing a large amount of loose soil to slide into the pit, making the water instantly murky.
Simon chased them away.
This fishing ground would have to do for now.
The sun was also setting soon, so Simon mounted the male wolf's back, intending to return to the ice wall crevice to sleep.
Looking back in the direction they came from, the towering, continuous ice cap beneath the heavy clouds was alarming; the world was filled with dull colors.
The sky was one band, the ice wall another, and the mudflats yet another, replaced by the sorrowful lead gray, light gray, and dark gray, three colors that appeared as convoluted patches in the vision.
Beyond death, no other hint could be discerned, like a dusty coffin, filling those within it with a suffocating fear.
Simon sat on the male wolf's back, cleaning his fingernails.
They hadn't gone far, not yet uphill, when a cloudy, transparent blob of venom shot from a dim corner.
Simon gently lay back, watching a gray shadow swiftly pass before his eyes.
A faint, pungent odor seemed to emanate from the venom's trajectory, making him quite disgusted.
A male wolf howled loudly, and the Wolf Pack faced the direction of the attack, crouching slightly.
Simon could feel the taut muscles beneath the male wolf's back, trembling like vibrating strings.
From behind the undulations of the mudflats, a ferocious giant insect slowly rose.
It was a spider larger than a horse.
It had numerous legs, a thick, dark red carapace, fine gray bristles growing on its body, huge waxy-yellow chelicerae, and many compound eyes on its head, radiating a cold light.
One of Skyrim's animals, the Frostmaw Giant Spider.
It spat another glob of venom from afar, and the Wolf Pack quickly scattered, encircling the spider.
Simon jumped off the male wolf's back and charged directly at the Frostmaw Giant Spider, looking like a toy figure attacking a block monster.
As an infant, his behavior was quite shocking.
The small child ran three or five steps, his body suddenly expanding, a massive amount of white fur erupting from his skin, fangs growing from his mouth, a third eye opening on his forehead, short bone spurs appearing on his shoulders, his arms becoming thick and long, and his fingernails thickening into sharp claws.
Lycanthropy outbreak—Troll Transformation!
Simon's height, from less than two feet, suddenly shot up to five feet, as if he were a teenager, and his aura seemed miles high.
"Roar—!"
Like thunder!
It was the Nord's innate Battle Cry!
The Wolf Pack fell into fear, turning and running, while the Frostmaw Giant Spider looked directly at Simon and was instantly stunned by the shockwave, freezing in place with its legs still suspended in mid-air, unmoving.
Simon braced his hands on the ground and leaped forward, his three eyes seeming to shoot out grappling hooks to firmly lock onto his prey.
Splat—
His sharp claws pierced the Frostmaw Giant Spider's carapace.
Simon pulled hard, and the millstone-sized head was torn open, pale blue blood splattering all over his face.
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