A Rite of Passage (1)
With Ant trained as a hunting dog, the amount of game they caught during their explorations increased significantly. Originally, Chester and Monia had avoided active hunting as much as possible. Fish traps and snares provided more than enough food, and even when those failed, they had preserved stores like smoked meat to fall back on. There was no reason to waste precious stamina on exhausting hunts. Furthermore, just like traps, hunting offered no guarantee of success. Even the most skilled hunters had their off days. Even natural-born predators sometimes failed their hunts and starved; if they stumbled upon a carcass, they would gladly abandon the grueling chore of hunting to scavenge the meat for maximum efficiency. If even beasts prioritized efficiency, humans were no different. Therefore, unless absolutely necessary, there was no point in pushing themselves to hunt. At most, if they spotted a suitable target in an advantageous position while exploring, they would shoot an arrow or fling a stone with a sling. If they hit, they ate; if they missed, they let it go.
But everything changed once they had Ant. The efficiency and success rate of their hunts reached an entirely different dimension. What Ant lacked, Chester and Monia provided, and what the two of them lacked, Ant filled in. Of course, some hunts still failed, but the risk of failure had plummeted to a highly acceptable level. Since they had nothing to lose even if they failed, they attempted hunts far more often, and their successes yielded a steady supply of meat. Thanks to this, their storehouse filled up rapidly, to the point where they were seriously considering whether they needed to build a second one.
"Should we cut some bamboo if we're going to build another storehouse?" Monia asked, scanning the forest during their usual exploration.
"Hmm, no. Well..." Chester pondered for a moment. As he thought, his gaze drifted to Ant, who was busily digging up the earth to extract a wild tuber he had sniffed out.
Chester was currently facing several pressing issues. The first, naturally, was the cold. Although the temperature wasn't dropping as rapidly as it had risen during the island's scorching phase, he could feel the chill creeping in day by day. Winter was undoubtedly on its way. That was the first problem.
The second was clothing. The Ant-wolf hide, which had been thoroughly rubbed and cured with salt, had stopped rotting once all the moisture was completely drawn out, just as Chester had predicted. He had watched it like a hawk, ready to throw it away at the first sign of decay, but he was now certain it wouldn't spoil. However, while it wouldn't rot, the stiff leather had not been softened, making it a difficult material to fashion into clothes. He was still trying to figure out how to resolve this.
The third was the chili peppers. He had realized that if he could fashion a weapon out of the chilies, it would be incredibly useful for escaping if they ever encountered a massive predator like a bear. Thus, once the chilies grew, Chester divided them into three batches: one for eating, one for seeds to plant in their field, and one for weapon research. Initially, he had experimented with them in various ways. He tried chopping them finely with his knife, but the pieces were too small and light; throwing them would be useless as they wouldn't travel far. Next, he tried grinding them on a flat stone. However, due to the moisture in the fresh chilies, they clumped together into a paste. Should I throw chili paste? he wondered, but he wasn't satisfied with that idea. So lately, Chester had been drying the chilies. Once they were bone-dry, grinding them would yield a fine powder instead of a sticky paste. The real puzzle Chester was trying to solve was how to deploy this ground chili powder as a projectile weapon. Smear it on a rock and throw it? Ridiculous. Carry the powder around and throw it by hand when a predator approached? It sounded plausible, but it offered zero safety. What if a charging predator got hit by the powder but didn't stop, trampling them anyway? Or what if it became even more rabid and went on a rampage? If they were going to use chili powder as a weapon, the correct approach was to launch it from a distance, incapacitate the predator, and then make their escape. These were the three problems currently weighing on Chester's mind.
Chester watched as Ant finished digging up the tuber and rolled it to his feet. The pup knew that if he bit into it himself, it would be ruined, which was why he brought it over intact.
"Good boy." Chester picked up the plant Ant had dug up and patted him in praise. Then, he turned to Monia. "Monia."
"Yes?"
"Let's divide our labor."
"...What?" Monia tilted her head, not quite grasping the concept of a division of labor. Chester looked back at her and explained.
"When we first arrived on this island, I didn't trust you."
"Ugh... Well, you had every reason not to."
"But now, I trust you. I trust your abilities. You've grown so much, and you've done incredibly well."
I trust your abilities. Hearing those words from Chester made Monia feel as though she were floating to heaven.
"Ah, well, um... what do you mean by dividing our labor?"
"I'm suggesting it precisely because I trust you," Chester said. "Up until now, we've always done everything together to prepare for any unexpected accidents or mistakes."
Accidents. Mistakes.
"Of course, we still need to explore the forest together. Two people are always better than one for that." But camp chores were a different story. "With how you are now, you can easily handle most tasks on your own."
So, Chester proposed the split. "One of us will build the storehouse, and the other will work on making a weapon out of the chili powder."
Working together on a single task might technically be more efficient. It would certainly take less time. However, Chester believed this division of labor carried a deeper value. Just as Ant, upon reaching maturity and completing his training, had gained Chester's recognition through hunting and realized his own growth, Monia needed a similar milestone. To grow further, she absolutely needed the experience of accomplishing something entirely on her own, without Chester's help.
In other words, this wasn't about efficiency; it was a division of labor designed for Monia's growth—for her future. Conceptualizing and attempting something alone, and then successfully executing it by oneself. Chester believed that such experiences were essential for human growth. Just as warrior tribes in remote lands sent their youths to face dangerous trials alone for their coming-of-age ceremonies, one had to step beyond the protective fence of a guardian and navigate a harsh world with nothing but their own body. Only then could they proudly establish a stable life and foundation for themselves. That was not merely physical growth, but the growth of the soul—a true rite of passage. Independence, trials, and triumph.
"What do you think?" Chester asked quietly. "Want to try doing it on your own?"
"..." Monia stared at Chester in silence. The man who had protected her. The man who had guided her. The man who had taught her. To Monia, Chester was a parent, a teacher, a savior, and, at the same time, the man she loved.
He had taught her how to survive. He had taught her how to fight. He had shown her how to craft the things she needed, taught her the respect due to even a mere beast, and revealed both the hardships of the world and the ways to overcome them.
Chester had always said that the ways of the world were simple. At a glance, they might seem overwhelmingly vast, complex, and dizzying, but in truth, they were so straightforward that even a child could easily grasp them with just a little thought.
Monia recalled the very first thing she had learned from him. What had it been? Finding water. She had been absolutely desperate to get the water trapped inside the bamboo. Once she had secured water, her second realization had followed. I learned that you have to actually do something to obtain something. It was a far cry from her past life, where everything was handed to her at the mere twitch of a finger. She now understood that she had to actively strive to win anything for herself.
The sugar fruit, which had tasted horribly bitter and astringent at first, was now a delicious treat. Snakes, which she had initially feared so much she mistook them for demons, were now creatures she could catch and eat with her own hands. She could run through the forest where she had once dreaded to even walk. She could now fell and carry as much bamboo as she wanted, whereas before, cutting down a single stalk had been an ordeal. She had learned how to build traps to secure food. She knew which plants to forage when her stomach or head ached. She had learned that mushrooms, which had been luxury ingredients back in the kingdom, could easily snatch her life away if eaten carelessly. She had learned so much. So much had changed. Monia knew this better than anyone.
Yet, a lingering anxiety still remained deep within her. She had learned from Chester. She had been saved by him. When she had wanted to give up on life, how much strength had she drawn from his promise to stay by her side? Though the ring on her ring finger was gone, a length of rope was still tied around her wrist. A symbol of the promise Chester had bound there on that storm-ravaged day. Monia gently caressed the rope.
And now, Chester was asking her. Asking if she would try doing something on her own. Without his help. She was anxious. She was terrified. She felt as though the moment Chester stepped away, she would forget how to even walk. She had certainly adapted well to the island so far, but the mere thought of Chester not being right beside her filled her with a suffocating dread, as if she might die the very next day.
But... He believes I can do it, doesn't he? Chester would never ask her to do something she was truly incapable of. The fact that he was proposing this meant he had faith in her. If I don't do this now... She would never be able to walk beside him as an equal. She would always stand in his shadow, remaining a mere child who had to be led and protected. I don't want that. To Monia, that prospect was far more terrifying. Even now, her heart, which pounded fiercely whenever she drew close to Chester, urged her forward.
"I'll do it," Monia said, looking Chester straight in the eye. Seeing her resolve, Chester smiled.
"Good." Chester reached out. But instead of patting her head or shoulder, he gently took her hand.
"Let's both do our best." His rough palm squeezed her hand firmly.
"Yes," Monia replied, a slightly shy smile playing on her lips. "Just you watch and see how well I do!" Swallowing her fear and confusion, she puffed out her chest with proud, playful bravado.