The Bear and the Bait
Asdin, too stunned to speak, watched the scene unfold while sprawled on his back. The fish was massive—easily the size of his own torso. Srem rotated the line sideways, dragging the catch onto the land with frantic urgency. He then grabbed a nearby stone and struck the fish’s head, not once, but repeatedly. It took eight heavy blows before the thrashing finally ceased.
Wiping his brow, Srem said, "Did you see that? That’s how you fish."
Asdin replied with a dazed expression, "I didn't know you could actually catch them. With something like that... such a huge fish..."
"I don't know the name of it, but I know it's edible. This should be enough to last us a day or two, right?"
Still reeling from the shock, Asdin nodded. He stood up, brushed off his backside, and approached the dead fish to examine it closely. "I've never seen a fish like this. None of the ones I've caught before were this big."
Srem looked at him with an understanding gaze. "That's because they usually live further downstream. When winter comes, they head upriver to where the water is warmer."
As he wound the line around his rod, Srem added, "Well, after trying it myself, I think I understand why you didn't use this method. If something like that bit, you'd lose the rod before you ever landed the fish. Using a trap was the right call."
In truth, it wasn't for that reason—he simply hadn't known. But Asdin guessed that the reason was likely the same as why Urnil hadn't taught him: it was too dangerous.
"What now?" Asdin asked.
"We need to smoke it. Fish spoils quickly."
"We have to prepare for the Taung, too."
"Right. We'll split the work. You know how to smoke meat, so I'll show you how to build a trap while I'm at it."
"Sounds good."
The two returned to their shelter with light steps. Asdin set up the wooden frame he had stored in the back of the cave, moved the fire beneath it, and began the preparations for smoking. Seeing this, Srem let out an exclamation of surprise.
"So that was a smoking rack."
"Yeah. It was hard to get the lengths just right."
Asdin sighed, remembering those days. At the end of summer, trying to practice Firmo while still barely grasping the basics, chopping wood had been no easy task.
Urnil chimed in. Unlike before, Urnil didn't speak much when others were around, offering only brief advice or encouragement. It was a thoughtful gesture to ensure Asdin wouldn't be distracted while talking to someone else. Asdin nodded, grateful for the support.
"Ah, that's it."
Once smoke began to rise from the low fire beneath the rack, Asdin left it for a moment and stepped inside the cave. Quite a bit of time had passed, and the meat he’d left in the warmth of the cave had thawed nicely. When he told Srem, the man checked the meat and shook his head.
"Not yet. The outside is thawed, but the inside is still frozen. We have to wait longer."
Asdin returned to his spot in front of the smoking rack. In the wild, smoking was a great method. While the smell of roasting meat was pleasant, the smoke produced during the process acted as a warning scent to dangerous beasts.
"That's why some Exiliers prefer to smoke meat on windy days," Srem explained.
Asdin showed just the right amount of interest. It was something Urnil had told him when he first learned to smoke meat. Suddenly, Asdin realized he had heard something in Srem’s words that was hard to overlook.
"Mister, have you met other Exiliers?"
"Other Exiliers?"
"Yes."
Srem looked at the boy before him with eyes full of complex emotions. This was a child who had to learn how to avoid people rather than how to befriend them. Yet, seeing the boy living so resiliently, Srem nodded.
"Yes. I've met many. There are Exiliers who live in villages, you know."
"There are villages?"
"Yes. But they don't welcome outsiders. As you know, we are Exiliers."
Asdin wore a worried expression. He was thinking of the nine Exilier corpses annihilated by the Sun's Messenger. He judged that if they were a village rather than just a small group, they would be an even greater threat to him. Srem, however, interpreted the boy's look as the loneliness of a dejected child and spoke quickly.
"If you want, I can recommend you as a member of the village."
"Recommend me?"
Srem nodded. "Yes. Exiliers are hostile to outsiders, but they take great care of their own. There are even couples who have had children. They won't look down on you just because you're a child. Well, it would be difficult right now, though."
"Why?"
"Two reasons."
It was a question just to keep the conversation going. Srem answered kindly.
"First, they are sensitive about surviving the winter. Even if you can pull your weight, they'll just see you as a child. It's better to go in the spring."
It was a reasonable explanation. Asdin, who had been using a long branch to remove some firewood because the heat was too intense, asked immediately, "And the second?"
"If the Taung has already taken an interest in us, going to the village would just give it a much larger target."
"That's the most important reason."
"Hmm. So, taking you there will have to wait until spring comes. If you'd like to, of course. You have skills, and though I only came out here for the hunt, it seems we'll be spending some time together. It'll be good for surviving the winter."
This time, the image that crossed Asdin's mind was the woman holding the child who had been murdered by Kizzel. Exiliers had children and raised them, too. But all Asdin had ever experienced or remembered of Exiliers was their inhumanity. In the memory of such a boy, only one adult remained, supporting him from within his heart.
Asdin's heart grew heavy as he thought of Hisoral's end. *Mister, Mister!* Hisoral Mut, the brave Martial Priest of the Wind Temple, had been killed by a cannibalistic murderer to protect him. Even though they had only known each other for a day, the warmth he had craved so deeply had seeped into the boy's soul. That was why he hated the Exilier who had stolen that source of warmth.
But who was this man? Why was he being like this to someone who had built such high walls around himself? Even after being bruised and having his weapon stolen the moment they met.
"Why are you going this far for me?"
Why give your heart away? Asdin asked, forcing strength into his voice so his choked tone wouldn't be discovered. Srem smiled faintly.
"I don't know your circumstances, but you're still just a child."
"Are you looking down on me? Saying I'm just a kid?"
Srem looked flustered. "Oh, sorry. I'm not looking down on you or anything. I just want a child to grow up like a child. That's why I want you to go to the village."
Those words breached the dam Asdin had built around his heart for the first time, soaking it, if only slightly. Asdin bit his lip hard. If he didn't, he felt like he would burst into tears.
"...The smoke is stinging my eyes."
As the wind shifted, Asdin covered his eyes and said that. It was the perfect moment.
***
Once the fire reached the right intensity, Asdin tossed in some damp pine twigs to keep the smoke thick. Meanwhile, he watched and helped Srem craft the 'trap'. While Asdin sliced the meat into thin strips, Srem coated his hands in mud and dried them by the fire.
"Why are you putting mud on your hands?" Asdin asked.
"If I get a cut while working, poison could seep in. The mud creates a barrier. It's an old method."
"But then the meat will get all dirty. You could just wear gloves."
"The Taung doesn't care about that, so it's fine. And I'd have to keep wearing gloves all winter; if poison gets on them, I'd have to wash them unexpectedly. I can't let it touch my skin carelessly. This is the better way."
As he spoke, Srem began tearing up poisonous mushrooms and herbs. He shredded the leaves by hand and crushed the stems on a stone slab with a rock, and soon a small mountain of toxic plants had piled up.
"So there are mushrooms and herbs that grow in winter, too."
Asdin, who knew not to eat mushrooms lightly but hadn't realized there were so many poisonous herbs, looked pale. If not for Urnil, he might have died long ago from eating the wrong plant instead of hunting.
Srem shook his head. "There are only two types of poisonous plants here. The rest are all strong spices."
"Spices? Why?"
"To enhance the flavor of the meat and mask the scent of the poison. Animals born and raised in the forest can distinguish poisonous plants. It's good to remember."
As Asdin nodded, Srem looked at him and asked, "How's the meat?"
"Here. It's ready."
Asdin gathered the meat he had cut and handed it over.
"Is this the trap?"
"Yes. We'll knead this together, shape it, and then roast it."
"And then we feed this to the Taung?"
"Exactly."
"What happens when it eats it?"
Srem said with a savage expression, "Its stomach will be completely ruined."
Asdin asked in surprise, "Is that possible? I heard the Taung has an incredibly sturdy stomach."
"You know that much?" Srem looked at Asdin with wide eyes. It was true. While hibernating animals varied, the Taung ate a massive amount of food to store nutrients before entering hibernation. In other words, it had a belly full of waste until spring, and it intentionally ate poisonous plants to purge these old, hard impurities. This was information usually known only to hunters or those who handled meat—not something a kid would know. That was why Srem was surprised.
"I know what you're worried about, but this works on the Taung, too. This is a recipe passed down from my ancestors. The ingredients aren't hard to find, and it's a method often used when hunting carnivorous predators."
Srem shrugged and added, "Normally, making a poison arrow would be the best way, but I don't think you'd return my weapon."
"...Are you blaming me for that?"
"I'm just saying we're going with a reasonable method. Anyway, watch closely."
Asdin’s glare shifted back to Srem’s work. Srem used a sharp, rough stone to shred and grind the meat on a flat rock. Once the meat was finely minced, he kneaded in the shredded poisonous herbs and mushrooms, forming six meat patties. Looking at the amount, Asdin asked suspiciously,
"Isn't that too little?"
"The goal is to catch the Taung, not to feed it a feast."
"No, I meant, is the amount of poison enough?"
"It's enough."
Srem was certain. Asdin decided to trust him. His own life wasn't the only thing at stake in this situation.
"Now we're going to roast this meat. Not all of it, just a little."
"Just a little? Why?"
"If we roast it too much, the toxicity might weaken."
Srem took some embers from the smoking fire to start another one. He stacked large, thick stones to make a small grill and placed a thin, flat rock on top. While waiting for the temperature to rise, Asdin went into the cave and brought something out, handing it to Srem, who looked at him with curiosity. Srem recognized what it was immediately.
"Huh? This is rock salt, isn't it? You can distinguish rock salt, too?"
"I found it by chance. I don't have a grinder, but I've been crushing it on a flat stone."
"...The young men in the village could learn a thing or two from you."
At the sudden praise, a warm feeling bloomed in a corner of his heart. Asdin pretended not to care and tossed the salt over. "Use it well."
Srem grinned and ruffled Asdin's hair. While the stone heated up, he used a little water to dissolve the rock salt and dabbed it onto the surface of the meat. Soon, the meat was placed on the stone. The appetizing sound of meat sizzling, mixed with the aroma, filled the air. Asdin sniffed the air and felt dizzy from the strong scent of the spices.
"The smell is incredible."
Startled by Urnil’s words, Asdin stepped back. Hearing Asdin’s comment, Srem chuckled and said, "If two people ate this, both would have a taste of death."
Asdin backed away even further. Srem looked at him, completely bewildered.