A Trek of A Storyteller

Ch.6: Throwing Knife

Skylos awoke with Bast curled tightly against his stomach, both of their legs and torsos curled tightly into one another. Remembering that knife which sliced his pants and scratched his leg, he hopped up and crawled out of the makeshift tent, leaving Bast alone and yawning with confusion.

His brow furrowed with determination, the boy found a sturdy yet thin stick and a rock. Climbing the steps once again with a newfound goal, he picked up Bast despite the protesting meow the cat let out which was hushed patiently by Skylos, he immediately set to work at removing the throwing knife, moving the tarp aside and working with a hunched back. It was not yet rusty, the boy could tell, and the edges were not yet dull, as he had found out.

He worked until the sun was nearly a quarter way into the sky and it was then that he paused, frozen fingers becoming useless. He sat back, avoiding the thought of food and water for the time being by instead thinking of the solution to this conflict.

At last, he decided. He would work until the light spilling through the tarp hole was touching the edge of the groove in the floorboard, a time close to ten in the morning, and then he would search more shops and find better supplies.

And so, he sat and kneeled and crouched while he worked with his quickly reddening fingers, but never once did he give up. Reluctantly, he saw that the sun had indeed reached it's finish line and so he set down his caveman-esque tools, picked up his satchel, and set off towards the Gypsy Robin Hood Stage for supplies with Bast trailing at his heels faithfully, stopping to sniff the occasional fallen leaf before trotting to keep up.

The first shop left of The King's Gate, West of his camp, which he searched thoroughly, had nothing but a few empty bottles which the boy stole away in his hands, not wanting to break them in his bag. He found a small length of rope and tucked it away as well. The next shop had a single trash bag which was again taken, and there were a few empty containers around but they smelled strangely and so Skylos was reluctant to take them and instead left them behind. He did not find anything in the next three shops, but he was fortunate enough to find a mismatched deck of cards in the fourth, scattered about and missing many numbers but he took it nonetheless, figuring he could add it to his collection. 'For charm,' he smiled and moved along.

After hours of searching, he came back with his satchel and arms laden with supplies. Most would be close to useless but not bad to have.

He laid out the bottles to catch rain on the rails of the building, which he soon decided to call the Oaktale Compass, since he was relying on it to mark his adventures, measuring every direction in relation to his camp. He found two stacks of empty notebook paper which he weighed down with rocks and, using his hands, tore a piece of tarp to wrap them up so they did not get wet.

He was quick to empty out his satchel, putting his own items in better spots. His books were stacked on the opposite corner of his bed with three of his empty notebooks, the fourth staying in his satchel, only three story books remained in his satchel: Romeo and Juliet, Treasure Island, and The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood. He kept the trash bag as a poncho in case it rained and left it inside his tarp. He found a few old pens which he kept in his satchel, a worn map which he swore to redraw in one of his many empty notebooks, and besides these things, he'd found several plastic utensils and a half used ball of twine. The utensils were placed next to his books and the twine stayed in his satchel.

He had found a dull, rusty paring knife and set back to work on the throwing knife with it, deciding it was too dull to be of use for anything else.

When at last, after another hour with aching joints and cramping fingers, he got a proper angle on the knife, Skylos took his chance and snatched the blade. He admired it for a moment, noticing the worn tape on the bottom and the un-dulled point.

Smiling, he took the length of rope from his satchel and tied it around his waist, resigning to figure out how to create a sheath for the knife later that day. For now, he slid the knife through the threads in the rope, splitting the fibers but catching the knife on the grip tape. He tore off a small chunk of bread for himself and one for Bast, admiring his new, sharp find.

He looked at the cat fondly as she ate, having more time to look at the small animal, no more than two years of age. Bast was an ashy grey tabby with a long scar across her nose that passed right above her icy blue left eye. She had several notches taken out of her ear and her short fur was decorated with scars. Skylos gave her a gentle pet and the cat purred gently.

When Bast was done with her food, the boy set off again. He knew not exactly what he was looking for but he had the strong sense that it was a new story. Gone were the days of abuse and neglect, he was his own Master now. Smiling to himself, he set off to the right of the steps after a quick glance around, headed for Legend Stage.