The Hunt - Dream Team + BBH

Chapter 2: The Sorry Fate of the Wandering Tradesman

Getting wood fucking sucked.

Clay had never met his uncle - the man had died long before the twenty-one year old had been born - but he was almost positive that he'd agree with him.

It was hot, even in the shade, and he'd already had to take his sweatshirt off and tie it around his waist as to not lose it immediately. Mind you - with it's neon green coloration he was almost certain it would be near impossible for him to lose it anyway.

The heat wasn't the worst part though, no.

His fingertips were already bleeding from pulling against the bark in an attempt to peel away salvageable pieces. One's that he could craft into a tool - preferably enough to make an axe. Clay had already found quite a few sticks and had them stuffed in his inventory. A person's inventory... it was a strange thing, almost like magic. It allowed them to store things, without having to carry around a heavy backpack. It made for easier travel, and most chose not to question its origin.

Clay was one of those people.

He spent a while pulling a few more small planks from the tree, taking a moment afterwards to examine his hands. He cursed quietly, a sharp stinging feeling overtaking the throbbing pain. He could deal with his hands later. Right now he needed to focus on finding basic resources.

As Clay looked over what he'd managed to scavenge, he frowned a bit. He only had enough wood for a a crafting table and an axe - and that was certainly pushing it. He crafted them though, the table first in order to aid in his making the axe.

Within a few minutes he held the wooden axe in his hand, still wincing a bit at the pain in his fingers as his grip shifted. Clay let out a sigh, nodding a bit to himself.

"This should make things a little easier..." He hummed softly to himself, chest tight as he approached the nearest tree. He spun the tool a bit in his hands, almost instantly regretting it as his finger's seemed to cry out at the action.

Clay let out a sigh, before raising the axe. 'It's time you meet my little friend." The words escaped his mouth as he slamming the blade against the side of the tree. The bark splintered beneath the axe, and he couldn't help but to smirk slightly. How does it feel? He thought smugly, hitting it again. Within a few minutes, he had a good amount of wood, having chopped down two or three trees to get it.

He settled back beside his crafting bench, making a pickaxe, sword, and a shovel - you never knew when you'd need one. After situating himself, tools in hand, he looked around the forest again. He was along the edge of it, and he could still see the plains biome where his village resided. Clay couldn't go back to the plains, he could be seen. Would anything happen if he was? What would they do? They wouldn't kill him, would they? He was almost certain they couldn't even if they wanted to.

So what if he went back to see them again? After all, he'd already broken almost every other one of the Champion's rules. Clay almost took a step, before he stopped himself. No. It's easier this way... for all of us.

With that internal dilemma hardly settled, Clay turned his attention back to the forest. He already had plenty of wood, but he knew that some cave systems had openings beneath the trees, and animals often rested in the shade of the forest's leafy canopy. Animals... food.

Just the idea of it made Clay's stomach grumble in response. He hadn't eaten prior to leaving, and now that he was on his own he couldn't just wait for it to be handed to him on a silver platter.

Mind made up, Clay moved further into the forest. It was much cooler here, he noticed. A gentle breeze weaved between the trunks, rustling the leaves above. It was very serene, leaving Clay in awe. He'd been in this forest before, during his training, but that had always been near its edge, where the plains were still visible. This was unfamiliar territory now, could be dangerous, but Clay wasn't even considering that fact as his eyes shifted around. He'd hardly been out of the village, and he deeply regretted that he hadn't forced his father to allow him to accompany any of the hunting parties.