So Many Plans
Who: Helena and Cross Where: Grazer Island What: Now that they have chosen a place, time to draw up a plan of attack. When: Noonish, Day 17 Rating: PG for wet boys in their undies? *coughs*
Helena took a moment to wipe some of the sweat mingled with lake water back out of her eyes as she dropped the last two of the discs from the disc trees high up on their chosen beach. It hadn't taken her and Cross long to find the appropriate spot for the permanent camp on grazer island. Though the water source was a ways away, the area seemed to be freer of animal droppings, there was another rockpile there, several stands of the bushes and a broad, flat stretch of beach. When Helena stood above it and opened up her imagination, she saw a circle of lean-tos built around a central firepit. She saw raised or basket gardens and shaded areas supplied by woven and resin-treated grass mats. Maybe even knitted wool curtains over the lean-to entrances made from yarnball fibers. When she squinted, she could even see a grazer paddock for tame grazers and a dock for canoes or ferries of some kind. She was already wondering about the possibility of a rough aqueduct from the water source to this end of the beach. They could build a fence to keep the grazers out, and this whole place could be a nearly normal village, couldn't it?
She couldn't keep the smile off her face as she surveyed the pile of round discs at the high end of the beach. She and Cross had spent the past few hours swimming back and forth to the disc trees and towing the light wooden materials back to the island. She'd spotted a couple more of those odd weasel-like animals but hadn't been able to get the drop on one. They seemed to be bright yellow in colour and had wide, flat tails sort of like beavers. They thumped them against the ground whenever she and Cross got near and there was no mistaking the sounds of several small furry bodies hightailing it deeper into the swaying sweetgrind. Maybe some day they would catch one and get a better look at it. As it was, it just seemed low, long and skinny with a black mask over the eyes being the only marking on their golden fur.
Exhausted, Helena sat heavily on one of her discs, noting that it didn't bow or crack under her weight. She sighed and dropped her head into her hand as she groped for her water bottle with the other. She sipped slowly, cautious of overdoing it. The last thing she needed was a cramp if they decided to make another swim across while there was lots of daylight. She lifted her head just enough to watch Cross coming up the beach. He held his broad shoulders rigid and she knew that his sunburn was bad across his upper back. He'd insisted on keeping his shirt on all day (not that she had asked him to take it off) but Helena could only imagine how uncomfortable or painful it was. She herself had darkened another shade or two toward brown, all over her exposed skin. She never burned, for which she was grateful.
From the moment he'd opened his eyes that morning, Cross had been completely on-task, sunburn or not. The first thing he'd done after he'd spread out his wet blanket to dry had been to get his t-shirt wet in the cold water and put it on to cover his blistered back. He and Helena had their work cut out for them today, and he didn't want to be the one slowing them down. They'd explored, found the ideal spot for a camp and then spent hours collecting wooden disc-shaped branches from the trees. Cross had actually enjoyed the exercise, although he might end up with sunburn on his legs now due to the fact that he'd taken off his cargo pants in order to swim. He hadn't thought a thing about it beyond reducing the amount of weight he was carrying with each load and keeping the items in his pockets dry.
He dumped the load of discs he'd been carrying and made his way over to where Helena sat, picking up his water bottle as he went. Sitting down, he opened it and drank about half of it at one go, then exhaled a heavy sigh. "How you holdin' out?" he wanted to know.
Even a little pink from the sun and covered in a shirt, it was becoming increasingly difficult for Helena not to admire Cross a little bit. He was definitely unlike any guy she'd ever dated or really even hung around with in the past. The Asian community, while it did have its occasional large statured man, typically produced a more compact genetic pool. Add in the fact that she'd never been all that athletic, she'd surrounded herself with friends who were much more academic and that had been perfectly fine with her. While she wasn't exactly a bloody genius, she was well read and a thinker by nature.
Cross was a doer and today certainly underlined that fact. They'd decided on gathering the discs first thing once they picked their spot and he had dropped his drawers and waded out into the water without batting an eye. It had been all she could do to keep up with him. Now that he was inquiring, she gave him a drowsy smile. "Feel like I just tried out for the swim team and didn't quite make it. How about you?"
"A little tired," he allowed. "Never was that much into swimmin'." Cross had always been more of a runner, though as he'd grown and gotten bigger and bulkier, his runs were more for exercise than anything else. Now, he wasn't all that swift, but his endurance was good. He turned his gaze from Helena and the small items of clothing that were clinging to her body due to the water. He'd definitely noticed-- after all, he was a man who hadn't had a woman's company in quite some time-- but he felt it would be impolite to blatantly stare. He drank down some more of his water and then held the bottle against his cheek to savor the condensation that had collected on it.
"I like to swim but it's different when you're trying to keep the discs afloat ahead of you." She continued to sip her water and glanced up at the glaring noon day sun. The white colour of the orb seemed to leech away the purple out here in the open, turning the world silver around them. She shaded her eyes with her hand and determined that it must be pretty close to noon indeed. She sighed and looked back at Cross. The day was warm and their clothing was already drying in the sun. "I was thinking that maybe we could get the firepit in place next, and then think about some kind of shelter with these discs?" She rapped her knuckles on the disc she was sitting on. Her thought was that a fire tonight might be enough to keep the grazers away. She thought she'd heard somewhere that most animals knew and feared fire naturally.
"Yeah, sounds good," Cross said, putting the cap on his water bottle. "Plenty of rocks to work with here." They had the makings of a better than average firepit, he thought. His theory was they should take their time and build it right rather than throw something together and have to redo it when they brought the others here. He hoisted himself to his feet, stretched and then reached a hand down to Helena to help her up if she wanted. If they got everything done that they wanted to now, they could relax later as the cooling shadows stretched over the island and the sun went down.
Helena took his hand, noting the callouses and warmth of it once again, and stood. She dropped her water bottle into the coarse sand and pulled one of the discs over it. Maybe shade would cool the water down a little. She tied her hair back in a knot against the nape of her neck and looked over the broad, flat area of the beach they had chosen. It was ringed in a semi-circle with the eight feet tall bushes and so with her eye she attempted to draw what seemed to be the dead center. "Cross, when you look out over this space, can you see a village sprouting up here? Like with the community cookfire and lean-tos. Maybe even little huts some day? We're going to need a permanent latrine and a fence to keep the grazers out. I like the idea of an aqueduct from the spring so that we can bring fresh water right to us. A smokehouse would be important, especially since I think we're going to eat a lot of grazer in the future." She turned a little bit to really take things in. "Maybe an area on the other side of the island for Bazzer to do his tanning thing. And maybe a proper kiln for pottery experiments. What do you think? Is all of this even possible?" She tilted a glance up at his face, unsure if she was just fantasizing beyond their capabilities or not.
Cross took the time to look around, to try to envision what she was suggesting. Cookfire, huts, latrine, fence... he could see all of that very easily. "I think there's a lot that can be done with this space," he said. While it was true that his expertise lay mostly in the area of wiring and electricity, that didn't mean he couldn't build other things with his hands. "Not sure how we'd go about makin' an aqueduct, but I wouldn't say it can't be done." He'd been squinting into the sun, glancing around, and he looked down at her, a smile tilting the corners of his mouth upward. She seemed determined enough that he didn't think there was much she couldn't accomplish, given enough time and materials.
She chuckled and moved forward toward what she expected was the dead center of the little semi-circle that she hoped would become the village. Walking in a tight circle, she paced out the area that she thought would make a decent firepit. She had a bit of an idea regarding the aqueduct which involved the trunks of those dead disc trees and lots of climber resin to seal the joints. How to assemble it high up off the ground, allow for passage of the grazers beneath it and make it strong in case one of the animals crashes in to it? Well, that would take much more thought. "This big?" she asked him with a glance upward. "Maybe...scoop it out a little in the middle and then build up the outside with stones?" She wanted it large enough that they could spit animals over it. There were quite a few of them to feed now.
Cross nodded when she suggested scooping out the middle of the pit area; he, too, was thinking about huge hunks of grazer meat turning on a spit. He set his jaw and ignored the fresh hunger pangs that thought gave him and looked around for the large, flat rock with the pointed end he'd found earlier and planned to use as a shovel. It was going to take quite a while, but they didn't have any actual tools to use. Sticks would break off unless they were made of extremely hard wood. "You gonna dig or gather rocks?" he wanted to know as he settled himself in the area she'd picked out and began experimentally digging at the ground to see how well his makeshift tool was going to work.
Helena had ducked back to her tools and returned with the small spade shovel she'd made more than a week ago. It was simple, made from the slate rock scattered around the stream back in the forest and a split climber vine. They had been left to harden for days and now she found it to be a fairly sturdy tool - something she used every day to dig a personal latrine. "Here, Cross." She touched his shoulder with the lightest possible contact, mindful of his burns. "You use this, it'll go a little easier. I'll start hunting up rocks and I'll stack them here." She pointed a couple of feet away, so that she wouldn't be in his way while he dug.
"Thanks," Cross said, his smile warm as she touched his shoulder so very gently. It was simple to see that her makeshift spade would work a great deal better than his rock, so he put the rock aside and began digging, putting all his concentration on his work. He liked having a task that blocked out all thought on occasion; he was both man and machine, determined, efficient, tireless. He was only peripherally aware of Helena placing rocks nearby, and he had no idea how much time was passing. The sun shifted in the sky, he took one restroom break and two for water, and he dug, and that was it.
Helena, too, took her breaks as she needed them and otherwise fell into the routine of the project. Her pile of stones grew larger and larger. She found the flat shale that seemed to sprout from the earth near the stream and also smooth round rocks that were nearly white in their paleness and were quite heavy. She was toeing around in the sand near the water's edge since she'd managed to unearth quite a few of those stones around there when the tip of her makeshift shoe unearthed something new. Crouching down, she peered at it with curiosity. Using the tip of her finger, she turned over the shiny brown and gold streaked object and decided that it was shapes precisely like a spade, like what you might see on a playing card. It also held a familiar weight. "It's a clam," she murmured to herself, and she was fairly certain it was still alive.
She carefully set the clam aside and used her hands to dig deeper into the wet sand at the shore. Soon enough she had unearthed a cool dozen of the clams and she sat back on her heels. Her mother had been a teacher and so she had socialized with other teachers. One of her mother's friends had a beach house on Rhode Island that they had gone to a couple of times when Helena was still small. She distinctly recalled the Fourth of July clam bakes. She'd watched with interest as the rocks had been heated in a pit and then the fire was put out once the rocks were glowing hot. Then the wet seaweed had been layered in, followed by a layer of clams, then more seaweed. That thought had Helena peering up the beach toward Cross's broad back. They were both hungry, she knew that. A clam bake would be a perfect answer to their lack of cookware. Grinning, she splashed out into the lake to retrieve some of the drifting seaweed they had encountered. Fresh water clams! Who would have expected that?
There was dirt everywhere: around the newly dug firepit, caked on Helena's small shovel, all over Cross' hands and arms and legs. He was dripping sweat, which made him look even filthier as it mixed with all the dirt on his person. He had a sense of accomplishment, though, as he stood back and regarded the results of his work. It had taken him quite a while, and his rough, calloused hands felt tender in spots, but once they got the rocks placed around it, they'd have the beginnings of a firepit. He trudged over to the water's edge with the shovel to wash it off and to wash himself off, as well, which left his t-shirt and briefs clinging to his skin again. Cross didn't really care, because he was both cleaner and cooler, and that was exactly what he'd needed. He saw Helena a little ways out in the lake, and once he'd tossed the shovel aside, he swam out to her and then stood up in the waist-deep water where she was, pushing his hair out of his eyes and asking, "What're you doin'?"
"Getting some of this seaweed," she said as she huffed and yanked on the stubborn stuff. It might be drifting on the top of the water but it was certainly anchored well at the roots. "You'll never guess what I found!" she told him. "Did you see them on the beach? I found clams! Or at least, they really looked like clams. Mollusks of some type, and they were as big as my hand!" She traced a circle around her palm to illustrate the size. "I thought, since we don't have a pot to boil them in that we could try to steam them in the sand like a New England clam bake. What do you think?" She didn't need to guess. She could hear his stomach gurgling from where she stood. Poor guy. He was so big and so active. It must be miserable to try to power that huge frame on next to no food. If she could dig up another dozen or so clams, she could probably feed him rather well in a few hours. "All we have to do is start a fire in a little pit and heat up some rocks until they glow. Then, sweep out the ashes, layer in the clams and seaweed and then bury the pit. It'll take a few hours but it'll be better than nothing right?" She looked up at him, hopeful that he'd be pleased with her find and suggestion. Maybe he was too hungry to wait and wanted to just toss the clams directly in the fire and hope for the best?
"Clams," Cross said ruminatively. He blinked, and then a smile broke on his face. "I didn't see 'em. Guess I was distracted diggin'." He'd known Helena was gathering rocks, but he hadn't noticed anything else. He was, indeed, starving. He'd found that he was hungry the majority of the time out here, but there wasn't any point complaining about it. Everyone was hungry. He just tried to focus on other things when the hunger tried to sink its claws into him. He nodded to her suggestions about how to steam the clams, thinking that steamed clams for dinner would be absolutely incredible. "We've waited this long. What's a few more hours?" he asked rhetorically. They'd have to arrange the rocks around the firepit, but after they got the clams cooking, they could work some more or rest awhile, then eat until they were full. It seemed that getting full might actually happen if there were enough clams and just the two of them.
Helena smiled and nodded, resuming her tugging on the seaweed. "This stuff is tough though!" She grunted softly as she yanked on it. "Can you get it?" She'd tried her best and only managed to strip the slimy leaves off of that water plant. Her handfuls of plant matter muck wouldn't cut it for steaming the fat clams. "Clam shells would be good to keep, too. We could probably use them. Maybe they would make a better cutting tool than my rock." He'd smirked at her when she'd shown him the little hunk of shale she'd been using to saw through climber vines earlier this morning. It was easy for him to be smug (emotions she was getting much better at reading in her stoic travel companion) since he had a pocket knife!
There was something that amused him about seeing the tiny Asian woman yanking on the seaweed fronds and trying to get them loose, but Cross did his best not to laugh. That might offend her, and he certainly didn't want to do that. He might've even said that it was cute to see her do that, if he would have ever admitted to such a thing. "I'll give it a try," he said. Of course, his knife was in his pants, which were folded up on the shore, but he had a lot more upper-body strength than she did, so he could possibly get the plant pulled up, anyway. It took more effort than he'd anticipated, but he was determined to follow through, so he tugged masterfully for several minutes before the seaweed finally gave up and unanchored itself from the floor of the lake. Cross hurtled backwards to splash down in the water, seaweed in hand, snorting in surprise and suppressed laughter. He shook his hair out of his eyes and propelled himself upright again, offering the seaweed plant to Helena.
Helena gasped and had taken a step to help him when the seaweed let go. She was ashamed to admit that she had been far too distracted watching the muscles under his t-shirt bunch and strain under the effort to be anywhere near close enough to help. When he resurfaced, long strand of seaweed in hand, her eyes lit up and she didn't bother to suppress her laughter. He almost presented the plant to her with all of the solemnity of someone offering a rose and she reached out to take it, one hand covering her giggles. She wiped her hand away from her mouth, eyes dancing. "You alright?" She lifted the plant he'd given her and then gave him an apologetic look. "We might actually need a couple of these." She turned toward the beach. "I can go get your knife if you like."
Cross was outright grinning as she started to laugh, because it was funny. Down he'd gone, and it was like his mom had always said: the bigger they are, the harder they fall. "Fine," he said in answer to her question. "Nah, I could use some more exercise today." His dry tone was as close to sarcasm as Cross allowed himself, and he was still smiling as he said it. "I'll pull it up." He set to work on the next closest seaweed plant, bracing his feet on the lake floor for leverage, his jaw set and his grip tight. He was able to get this one pulled up without falling over, and he handed it to Helena, as well. "That it?" he asked.
Helena nodded and started to slog back to shore. Standing up, water ran out of her scant clothing in rivulets. The long stems of the seaweed trailed from her hand on the surface of the water. Back on the beach she took a moment to wring the water out of her hair. She'd thought she might have needed a haircut back in New York. Now she was sure that she needed one but aside from trusting her hair to Cross's straight razor, she didn't think she had any choice but leave it. She twisted the locks together and then flipped them back over her shoulder as she bent to scoop out a pit. To her pleased surprise, she unearthed another dozen clams as she did so. Perfect! She set them aside as she piled handfuls of sand to the side, to be covered over again once the rocks were heated enough. Panting, she worked with the sun beating down on her and soon enough she had wrestled the stones into place and wandered up the beach to find some wood.
Cross headed out of the water, too, figuring he might as well let himself drip dry. The sun was plenty hot enough for that. After draining the rest of the water from his bottle and refilling it, he worked at finding wood, as well. Settling in for what was akin to an actual cooked meal after working as hard as they had today would be heavenly, he thought. They might have to wait for the clams to cook, but it would be well worth it.