A Hunter's Mark
"A bow? A bow?!"
"Yes. A bow."
"Uh, but... is it really possible with a string like this?" Monia asked, flustered.
"What is?"
"This is just an ordinary string."
"Ah. People often misunderstand this, but an arrow is propelled by the elasticity of the bow stave, not the bowstring."
The bowstring merely served to pull the stave and create tension; the most crucial element of a bow was the material of the stave itself.
"Do you even know how to shoot a bow?"
"My father drilled it into me. What about you? Didn't the Duke have a passion for hunting?"
"Yes. That's why luxury bows were hung all over the mansion instead of swords."
"And to think the Duke's family descended from the general who led the army during the founding of the kingdom."
"He did have some training with the sword, but Father viewed swords more as conducting batons for commanding rather than actual weapons."
As he conversed with Monia, Chester set his stone knife against a split piece of wood and began to delicately shape it. He paid the closest attention to the grip. He shaved it down to a thickness that fit perfectly in his palm. Once that was done, he wrapped cord tightly around the handle to make it easier to hold.
Next, he shaped the limbs on either side. Shaping them simply meant shaving them down appropriately and carving notches at both ends to secure the string.
After carving the notches at the tips of the stave, Chester attached the cord he had prepared. When the cord, which was slightly shorter than the one-meter stave, was tied to both ends, the wood bent slightly, forming a slender 'D' shape.
It was a bow shape Monia recognized, but at the same time, it looked incredibly crude.
"Can you actually shoot with that?"
"Of course. The arrows are the real issue."
Chester spoke as he pulled out the rounded branches he had gathered to make arrows. He pressed his stone knife against the thin, round sticks, stripping away all the bark and twigs to smooth them out.
"I need to attach fletching to the back of the arrows."
Chester first carved one end of the finished arrow shaft into a sharp point. After sharpening the tip to serve as the arrowhead, he carved several barbed notches into it so it wouldn't easily slip out once it pierced the prey.
Next was the rear. Chester pulled out the bird feathers he had been collecting ever since he first thought of making a bow. They were scattered all over the forest, so gathering them hadn't been difficult.
After selecting the straightest and most even feathers, Chester split them down the middle and aligned them against the back of the shaft.
"Hmm."
Chester first bound the protruding quill tightly to the shaft with some cord.
"Will this do?"
He had tied it down, but the loose back end of the feather fluttered wildly, which wouldn't do at all. Chester lightly flattened the end of the feather with his stone knife, then wrapped more cord around that section to secure the fletching firmly to the shaft.
Will this work?
For the second arrow, he attached leaves instead of feathers to the end.
"Why are you putting leaves on it?"
"If leaves can do the job, they're much easier to find and replenish than bird feathers. It's just a test."
Chester inspected the arrow with the leaf fletching.
Once the leaves dry out, they'll crumble easily... but I can just replace them when that happens, right? I tied the cord pretty tight, though. I wonder if I can reuse it.
It was tied so securely that untying it seemed like it would be a hassle.
For now, I'll mostly use leaves, but it's probably best to gather as many feathers as possible.
After fletching all the arrows with either feathers or leaves, Chester scraped the rear ends of the shafts with his stone knife to carve nocks for the bowstring.
"Done."
By the time Chester finished the bow, the sun had dipped below the mountains, and darkness was settling over the area.
"Shall we turn in?"
"Yes... But when are we going to make our beds?"
"Hmm? Ah, right. Well, let's take our time. We have plenty of it."
"A bed is my highest priority, though..."
Ignoring Monia's grumbling, Chester broke up the charcoal and firewood from the campfire and spread them across the dirt floor. Finally, he placed a large, damp log on top to let it smolder slowly over a low heat, and then the two of them lay down.
Though they hadn't built beds or a proper windbreak, the leftover logs from constructing the Beach Villa were piled at the edge of the shelter. The heat from the campfire reflected off those logs, wrapping Chester and Monia in a cozy warmth as they lay inside. Basking in that warmth, they drifted into a comfortable sleep.
The next morning, Chester woke up and fashioned a simple quiver. He cut a long piece of bamboo, leaving only the bottom node intact while hollowing out the inner joints.
After chipping away the joints with his stone knife, he used a rough stone to sand down the sharp, jagged edges of the inner walls that could easily slice open skin. Then, he bored a hole near the top, threaded a cord through it, and looped it through his belt. Just like that, a simple quiver that could hang from his waist was complete.
With the quiver secured at his hip, Chester took a light jog along the beach to wake up his sleeping muscles before returning to the Beach Villa.
Upon his return, he saw the beast's claws—tied with cord and hung from a branch in front of the villa—swaying in the wind. He had set them aside when butchering the beast, but because he lacked a proper whetstone to grind them down, he hadn't been able to fashion them into knives yet.
I need a flat slab of stone.
Staring at the claws, Chester approached Monia, who was still fast asleep.
"Wake up. We have to go check the fish traps."
"Ngh... mmph..."
"Wake up."
*Slap.*
"Mmmgh..."
*Slap, slap.*
When Monia didn't budge even after he gently nudged her shoulder, Chester resorted to tapping her cheeks.
*Slap, slap.*
"Hieee...! I-I'll kill you...!"
What on earth is she dreaming about?
Chester poked the cheek of Monia, who was flailing her arms and muttering death threats. Her cheek had grown slightly flushed from his repeated taps.
"Jordyyy...!"
Ah, so the Prince made an appearance in her dream.
Chester extended his hand toward Monia's outstretched arms. Immediately, Monia grabbed his arm with both hands and squeezed with all her might. To Chester, the grip was incredibly weak, but in her dream, Monia was clearly exerting every ounce of her strength.
Is she strangling the Prince right now?
Chester gently pried away Monia's hands as she desperately tried to choke her dream prince.
Her grip strength is pitiful.
Well, it made sense, considering she had never lifted anything heavier than a fork and knife in her entire life.
In any case, after waking Monia from her sweet, vengeful dream, Chester headed to the river first to fetch water for the day and check the fish traps.
"Now, let's see what we caught."
The first trap he checked was his own. As he cautiously approached, the trap wedged between the rocks was thrashing violently. When he pulled it up, he saw three fish trapped inside.
"Oh."
"Wow."
"Not bad."
Though it was just one large fish and two smaller ones, they were all plump and meaty, which was excellent. Chester pulled out the twigs he had wedged into the trap's opening to secure it, retrieved the fish through the gap, placed them in the basket, and checked the bait.
"...Still good."
He wedged the twigs back in to block the gap and lowered the trap back into the river.
Watching the basket shake with every flop of the fish as Chester moved, Monia grew excited about what might be in her own trap. And as she approached her trap, which was set slightly upstream from Chester's, her eyes sparkled at the sight of bubbles churning inside.
"Whoa! I caught something!"
"So you did. Want to pull it out?"
"Yes!"
Beaming, Monia pulled up the trap and checked the contents.
"Wow! Two big ones!"
"Oh, nice. Good job."
"Wow! Fish! I caught them! I really caught them!"
"Yes, yes, you did."
"They're all mine!"
"Sure."
Chester chuckled as he watched Monia grin at her trap. Her excitement over claiming all the fish reminded him of his own childhood, when he had successfully caught his first rabbit after learning the ropes from his father and insisted on keeping it all to himself.
"Please let there be lots of fish tomorrow too."
She was so deeply moved that she even offered a prayer to the trap she had set. After resetting Monia's trap, the two headed into the forest to inspect the land traps.
"I want to make another fish trap!"
"Shall we? It might be a good idea to set another one slightly further upstream."
Just as Chester had anticipated, Monia's motivation soared after succeeding with a tool she had crafted with her own hands.
"Traps are amazing! Once you build them, hunting is so effortless!"
"As if you've ever hunted the hard way."
"I haven't, but Father often came home empty-handed from his hunts."
"Ah, that's true."
Loving the hunt did not equate to being good at it. The Duke adored hunting, but his archery skills were abysmal. Perhaps that was why Monia had looked upon Chester's crude bow with such deep skepticism. If the Duke frequently failed even with top-tier bows and knights driving the game toward him, how could anyone succeed with such a primitive weapon?
"Whenever Father went hunting, a crowd of nobles would gather and throw a massive party."
"Hahaha."
Chester knew exactly why the nobles swarmed those hunts. For the usually majestic and charismatic Duke, the hunting grounds were a place where his "human flaws"—namely, his terrible aim—were laid bare. And since the Duke loved archery and the hunt itself, he remained in high spirits even when he missed. Thus, nobles seeking to curry favor or ask for political boons gathered in droves during his hunting trips.
Naturally, during the Duke's hunting parties, even the most renowned archers among the nobility failed to bag a single beast. Catching anything risked bruising the Duke's ego, so everyone intentionally missed their targets, offering excuses like, "My, hunting in these parts is no easy feat, hoho," or "To hunt in such rugged terrain, Your Grace truly possesses remarkable skill, hahaha."
Since the heavy rain must have left many beasts starving, I hope we caught something in the traps.
Of course, such antics were reserved for nobles who viewed hunting as a leisure sport. For Chester, his only hope was that at least one trap had sprung so they would have something to eat today.
The first one they checked was the Figure-4 deadfall trap.
"Oh."
"Ah."
Seeing at a glance that the trap had collapsed, Chester and Monia approached the log. Peering underneath, they found a small animal pinned beneath the heavy wood. As they carefully lifted the log, they revealed a creature whose face had been completely flattened by the weight.
"It looks strangely flat."
"Because a log fell on it."
"Eek!"
While Monia stared at the log with a newfound look of dread, Chester retrieved the carcass.
"We're in luck today."
They had caught a decent amount of fish in the traps, and now they had a land animal as well. In high spirits, Chester and Monia headed to the next trap with anticipation. Unfortunately, the other traps were empty, but the snare trap was a success.
"What is that? ...A pig?"
"Looks like a pig, but it's small. A piglet, maybe? Or is it just a small species?"
Caught by its torso in the snare, a small wild pig was squealing and thrashing wildly.
"Perfect timing."
Watching the struggling pig, Chester pulled out one of the arrows from his basket.
"Let's test it out."
He nocked the arrow, aiming at the frantic pig. Aiming, drawing back, holding his breath, he calmly lined up the shot... and released.
The arrow flew straight and struck the pig, which had been thrashing so violently it shook the nearby saplings. The arrow pierced its heart in a single shot. As the wild pig went limp instantly, Monia stared at Chester in sheer disbelief.
She had heard him say his father was a hunter and that he had learned a lot from him. But hearing it was one thing; actually seeing it was another. It hadn't felt real before, but now it did. Watching him pierce a wildly moving target and kill it instantly, Monia realized anew: the man standing before her was a true hunter.
...Wait, how did that hit? This is literally my first time shooting this bow.
Of course, beneath his calm exterior, Chester was actually thinking something entirely different.
"Well, this should secure our food supply for a while."
Chester smiled as he gathered the pig carcass, which was about as thick as two of his forearms combined.
Now, it's time to start building a proper house.