Enoch Crosslin (crossedwire) wrote in thefield, @ 2009-06-12 12:36:00 |
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Current mood: | working |
Entry tags: | cross, z - 1st tribe - day 24 |
Who: Cross
When: early morning through the afternoon
Where: across the lake and to the south
What: gathering and finding
Rating: G
Cross' day had started early. Once he'd ascertained that Helena was on the mend, he'd taken off due south, planning to cross the lake from a different location and see what building supplies could be found there. He'd seen that Rook, one of the blond kids, had made decent progress on another lean-to, and he had hopes of finishing the one he'd started working on within the next couple of days. Soon they could have a reasonable amount of shelters, hopefully improving both the technique of building them and the sturdiness of the small structures as they went.
He'd carried a couple of the bowl-shaped tree limbs with him, and once he reached what looked like a good crossing point, he stripped off his t-shirt, khakis, socks and work shoes and placed them on one of the discs to swim across. He'd become accustomed to this procedure by now, and he shook himself off once he'd gotten to the other side and re-dressed in everything he'd been wearing except the t-shirt. Then he struck out for the grove of vine-covered trees he could see in the distance, about a fourth of a mile away.
Cross thrived on staying busy. He didn't want to be gone from camp for more than half a day or so, but he knew that the further out he went, the more likely it was that he'd find a wealth of different things. He didn't have much to use to gather wood except his hands and feet-- his pocketknife wasn't big enough to do more than cut vine-- but he was strong and determined. Hopefully that would be enough.
Once he arrived, he found that he was able to grab handfuls of tough, ropy vine and pull them down to be cut, stretching them out as long as he possibly could before chopping them off. The wood proved not too difficult to glean as well; there were a multitude of flexible, skinny branches that could be used to build walls and maybe even roofs, and he set up a rhythm of hanging from them until his weight broke them. It was repetitive work, but he didn't mind. The only thing that was unusual was spying a spot of pink as he worked his way through the stand of trees. The pink thing, he discovered, was a bathrobe.
Cross simply stared at it for long moments, not sure what to think. It was clean, not smeared with blood or dirt, not ripped, just hanging over one of the skinny branches as if someone had left it there to step into the bath. Finally he huffed out a sound that was part exhalation, part soft laugh and gathered the robe up to take back along with the wood and vines he collected. He knew a lady who might like it, after all.