The Lost One

Chapter 4

Nova decided it would be best to search for supplies after she had recomposed herself, considering what she had just seen. She searched through the bodies in the plane, outside the plane, and the luggage. She didn't find much. Just clothes, wallets, and miscellaneous items she didn't care for.

There has to be something here. I cannot die out here.

The best she could find were the following: a compass, some sweets, a sledgehammer, and an empty mug. She placed these items into her bag that she recovered from the ruins of the cabin. She had also used the shirts from some of the luggage as a bandage for the cut on her shoulder. She wrapped and tied the shirts securely onto the wound with a pained grunt. The blood from the cut on her forehead was cleaned off with another shirt she found before hauling her bag over her shoulders and across her back. She took the sledgehammer in her hands and headed outside.
She needed food, water, and a fire.

The sweets were not going to be sufficient enough and she needed a fire to melt the snow into water she could drink. She gathered most of the clothes from the passengers' luggage into a pile and she needed to find something to light it aflame.

Such a waste... but I won't survive without the heat. She sighed. Damn it...

She could not find anything to light a fire in the plane, so the next best thing was sticks. She gathered some sticks from the nearby trees and rubbed them together in an attempt to start a fire. It was a long and tedious process, one she was unfamiliar with. She had only basic survival skills from the times she went camping in the past and from holographic videos she found at the library.
Surely this cannot be too difficult, right? People do this for fun, after all.

She rubbed the sticks together but she could not get anything from it. She cursed herself silently as she continued to rub the sticks together.

Come on, come on...

Her heart skipped a beat when she managed to get smoke. She continued, even as her hands and wrists began to ache. They burned and felt like they were going to lock up. She vigorously rubbed the sticks as she tried to get fire. But none came. She tossed the sticks on the ground in her frustration.

Fuck!
She rubbed her hands on her temples. She felt dejected, her hopes weakened. But tried to push it aside as she needed to address other problems. Perhaps she would try again later in the day?
The issue of the food supply would be tricky. It was going to be difficult to get close enough to an animal to bludgeon it to death with the sledgehammer. She was going to need a ranged weapon. A rifle or perhaps the old-fashioned spear should suffice. She didn't remember seeing a rifle on the plane so the spear would have to do. She considered the bow and arrow but she didn't think she had the skills to construct such a tool.
She searched the nearby trees for thick enough sticks to construct a spear. She gathered back five sufficiently thick sticks and set them down. But she forgot something. She had forgotten to get a knife. She sighed with frustration as she searched the plane yet again. She searched the luggage and the bodies and found nothing. She searched the entire cabin tirelessly and found noth- wait...what was that? At the corner of her eye, she saw a glistening metal. It was a small pocket knife hidden under one of the seats. She grabbed the knife and used it to slowly whittle down the tip of the stick into something sharp. It took her hours and there seemed to only be, at most, four or five hours left until sunset, according to the sun's position in the sky.

She started a second attempt at starting a fire. The most she got from rubbing the two sticks together was minimal smoke. There was yet to be a spark to set the clothes alight. After a while, she finally was able to set the pile of clothes on fire and provide herself with heat and light. She was delighted and smiled at herself.

Now I just need food to cook.

There was still sufficient sunlight left and she grabbed some of the spears she constructed over the last hours and got up to find an animal to kill. She snuck around the nearby trees and vegetation. She found a small animal, about the size of a small house cat. It was, however, nothing like a house cat. It appeared to be some sort of rodent, approximately thirty centimeters in length with bushy white fur.

A brief sense of excitement flowed over her that she tried to contain. Her eyes widened at this sight. She slowly inched forward toward the rodent, shoulder arched back, ready to throw the spear. She held her breath, as if the rodent had super-hearing and would run away at the slight sound. It didn't, however.

Until she stepped on a twig and the rodent ran away never to be seen.

She smacked her lips in frustration and cursed herself.

That's just fucking great... She shook her head. I need to be more careful.

She checked the sun's position in the sky. About two hours until sunset. She must hurry but she mustn't rush.

She searched the area for another half an hour and was increasingly annoyed and frustrated. This place was almost desolate. Except at night, when nocturnal beasts roamed about. These beasts had mostly been eradicated but some could still be found in the most remote parts of the land.

Another half an hour had passed. She was unable to find another animal to kill. The sun was going down and it was getting increasingly harder to see. She looked around and found nothing. There was nothing except plants that she was suspicious about consuming.

It was almost dark. She decided to head back to the wreckage and fed the fire more sticks.
The night had fallen and it was an eerie feeling. The carcasses of the dead and the sounds of nothing poked at her senses. It was greatly uncomfortable, especially the distant sounds of howling, distinct to the Duskfang.

I hope they don't come near. I don't plan on being eaten by beasts any time soon.

She had heard stories of these beasts. They stood at heights over three meters and had plagued the mountains since antiquity. She hoped they would not come around these parts and consume her. But that was not guaranteed.

She smothered the fire and went inside the plane's cabin. She would be sleeping there, using whatever clothes she could find as blankets and the dead as a deception from the Duskfangs that could pass by. The reason being, that they were not scavengers. They preferred their prey alive. But that didn't mean they didn't like dead, rotting meat

She laid back under the clothes she could find and pulled out the photo of young Kestral.
Just wait for me, I'll be home soon. I hope...
She kissed the photo before putting it away. Then a memory washed over her.

***

Eight months earlier.

A knock on Nova's door was nerve-wracking. Her husband had been deployed on a nine-month tour and she didn't know if it would be him or another man informing her of the unfortunate news of his death. She had trouble sleeping at night and raising her son because she didn't know if he would make it out alive. The anticipation gnawed at her. Her breath shook. Her hands seemed to tremble as she unlocked the door and opened it.

It was a man in a military uniform. But not one she recognized. Her heart dropped.

"Ma'am, I am sorry to be the bearer of unfortunate news," he said. "But your husband had been killed in combat."

"W-what happened?" she asked, breath shaking and tears about to drop from her eyes.

"He struck a landmine while attacking a position with his platoon. The medics tried their best but the blood loss was too great."

Nova gulped down a lump in her throat and said, "Thank you."

She shut the door and smashed her fist against the wall. The tears fully fell and the crying was ugly. She clutched her face as she wailed and cursed. Why, Cyrus, did you have to go? She thought. Why did you have to go fight this pointless war?
Her young son had heard the conversation and the commotion that followed it. He didn't say anything as he approached his mother. He simply embraced her in a hug that she returned.

"Your father is gone," she said through tears and cries. "Your father is gone."