Tag Archives: Bartlett

Fire and Food (The Ghear)

The sounds of the night filled Reilly’s ears, darkness closing in around him. The sun had set, the last vestiges of natural night disappearing. They had managed to set up a fire; a man had saved a packet of matches, luckily, the light creating shadows that danced across the nearby lake. He had set up a watch system, but Reilly planned to stay up all night anyway. He saw shadows prowling around the edges of the light, much smaller than the monstrous Saber he had killed early today, but he could tell by the way the moved, that they wouldn’t mess around if they caught him. They would kill efficiently, and with ease.

Reilly prayed to whatever lived up there, whatever they called God on this planet. Nothing had bothered the camp during the night, none of the horrific creatures daring to breach the barrier that the fire had formed. Now the challenges of surviving through the day presented themselves. He had to find not food just for one, which would be an unenviable task in itself, but for a group of thirty. They had to figure out a way to make a more permanent house. Trees were all around him, but they had few tools, only a dozen or so pick axes from the mines, and Reilly’s seemingly eternally sharp knife from the Ghear. Water, luckily, was no issue, with the lake at their side. One less challenge, he thought to himself, but there was still plenty to do.

He set the men with pick axes to bring down some of the smaller trees, and if they couldn’t lug it over, to chop it into parts in order to allow them to carry them. If they still couldn’t do so, then they were to simply chop it up into firewood. Made for smashing their way through earth and rock, the pick axes were far from ideal for tree chopping, but like the sword that Reilly wore around his waist, were sharp, and very strong. The people with him were strong too. It sounded terrible to say, but the mines had weeded out the weak. All these people were fit, able to work. As such, they kept a good pace bringing down the trees. It was tough work, no doubt, but was absolutely necessary.

*     *     *

He followed the herd of Brachiosaur as they strode across the plain. He stalked silently through the tall grass, the monstrous herbivores immune to his presence. And rightly so. He was no threat to the creatures, but he was interested in ones the size of ostriches. With long necks and larges eyes, they were like the antelope of this world. They were bipedal, and moved with immense speed. The only way Reilly would ever catch them was through surprise, catching them off guard and as the dumb creatures tried to flee, cutting their throats. The creatures were so big that they could feed the troop for at least two days, and they would be eating well. He crouched lower, preparing his sword. One had split from the herd, stopping to graze. Reilly swore it would be his last action, as he leapt to his feet.

Reilly’s legs pumped underneath him, quickly traversing through the long grass. A bellow echoed through the air, the larger Brachiosaurs having spotted him. He didn’t care; his eyes were completely focussed upon the frightened looking Runner, alarmed by the Brachiosaurs braying. It was isolated from the herd, an easy target. It started to run, but Reilly was already on its back, tearing at it with the ever-sharp knife of the Ghear. With a ferocity that surprised himself, he brought the once majestic creature down, dead. He roared in delight. Food.

They had managed to keep the fire going. There was always someone stationed at it, always somebody to add more firewood. They only had limited matches, and they had no other way to start a  fire. Therefore, the fire was always blazing. Reilly arrived home a hero, dragging the beast behind him. The men had been surprisingly efficient, with the camp surrounded by large logs, at least offering them some protection

The sounds of the night filled Reilly’s ears, darkness closing in around him. The sun had set, the last vestiges of natural night disappearing. They had managed to set up a fire; a man had saved a packet of matches, luckily, the light creating shadows that danced across the nearby lake. He had set up a watch system, but Reilly planned to stay up all night anyway. A tall, muscled black man, who went by the name Frank Jones, was ex-Marine and his official second in charge. He saw shadows prowling around the edges of the light, much smaller than the monstrous Saber he had killed early today, but he could tell by the way the moved, that they wouldn’t mess around if they caught him. They would kill efficiently, and with ease.

Reilly prayed to whatever lived up there, whatever they called God on this planet. Nothing had bothered the camp during the night, none of the horrific creatures daring to breach the barrier that the fire had formed. Now the challenges of surviving through the day presented themselves. He had to find not food just for one, which would be an unenviable task in itself, but for a group of thirty. They had to figure out a way to make a more permanent house. Trees were all around him, but they had few tools, only a dozen or so pick axes from the mines, and Reilly’s seemingly eternally sharp knife from the Ghear. Water, luckily, was no issue, with the lake at their side. One less challenge, he thought to himself, but there was still plenty to do.

He set the men with pick axes to bring down some of the smaller trees, and if they couldn’t lug it over, to chop it into parts in order to allow them to carry them. If they still couldn’t do so, then they were to simply chop it up into firewood. Made for smashing their way through earth and rock, the pick axes were far from ideal for tree chopping, but like the sword that Reilly wore around his waist, were sharp, and very strong. The people with him were strong too. It sounded terrible to say, but the mines had weeded out the weak. All these people were fit, able to work. As such, they kept a good pace bringing down the trees. It was tough work, no doubt, but was absolutely necessary.

*     *     *

He followed the herd of Brachiosaur as they strode across the plain. He stalked silently through the tall grass, the monstrous herbivores immune to his presence. And rightly so. He was no threat to the creatures, but he was interested in ones the size of ostriches. With long necks and larges eyes, they were like the antelope of this world. They were bipedal, and moved with immense speed. The only way Reilly would ever catch them was through surprise, catching them off guard and as the dumb creatures tried to flee, cutting their throats. The creatures were so big that they could feed the troop for at least two days, and they would be eating well. He crouched lower, preparing his sword. One had split from the herd, stopping to graze. Reilly swore it would be his last action, as he leapt to his feet.

Reilly’s legs pumped underneath him, quickly traversing through the long grass. A bellow echoed through the air, the larger Brachiosaurs having spotted him. He didn’t care; his eyes were completely focussed upon the frightened looking Runner, alarmed by the Brachiosaurs braying. It was isolated from the herd, an easy target. It started to run, but Reilly was already on its back, tearing at it with the ever-sharp knife of the Ghear. With a ferocity that surprised himself, he brought the once majestic creature down, dead. He roared in delight. Food.

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