1st of the Day, Fall of 511 A.V
Jonathon glared at what remained of the rabbit corpse. Already picked over of all valuable meat, it was worthless and would be starting to attract predators soon. He would have to bury it; either that or dump it somewhere out in the forest, which was dangerous and time-consuming.
Jonathon sighed heavily and brought out his shovel from the lean-to. Digging was sweaty and blistering work; he was used to it by now, but it wasn't nearly as fun as hunting. Shovel in one hand, corpse in the other, Jonathon walked a few dozen feet away from his clearing and began the shoveling.
As he shoveled, he debated with himself; aloud, so that he didn't lose his voice. He learned to do that his first few months out, although it still made him feel a bit silly. "Now, do I bury it shallow and get back to something useful, or bury it deep to make absolutely sure predators don't dig it up?" After a few moments of thought, he decided to take the risky first option, and watch the burial site over the next few days. If he was lucky, he could make off with a wolf pelt; useful for the coming cold weather.
Rabbit successfully buried, Jonathon made his way back to his lean-to. The lean-to was rather sophisticated compared to others of it's kind; a number of stitched-together pelts with a solid wooden base. It was more of a tent then anything. The inside was frugal; a bedroll and a small end-table for cutting and crafting.
Jonathon took a seat in front of the table, pulling a bunch of straight, medium-thickness sticks from his pack he had gathered on his walks. Using a small whittling knife, Jonathon began sharpening the tips and making the shafts straighter.
Two hours and seventeen broken sticks later, Jonathon was ready to admit defeat. He had hoped to find a way to make arrows by himself, so he wouldn't have to travel to town so often, but it was surprisingly hard to make even simple arrows. Jonathon resolved to ask the fletcher for some pointers next he went to Syliras.
Frustrated, he stepped outside, breathing the calm air of the mountain. The cool air was the best part of the mountains; he couldn't imagine living in a stuffy apartment in the city like he had just five months before.
Still, the mountain had plenty of downsides. There was the lack of common supplies, the plain fair (although his cooking skills were improving), and the danger. But the primary downside would be by far the lack of people. Jonathon visited with his father when he went to Syliras, but it wasn't the same as having a relaxing drink in the tavern, or the occasional hunting trip with a friend...
With a jolt, Jonathon realized he was absolutely food-less. That was never good; time had taught him to always have a meal around in some shape or form, in case a hunting trip went south. Jonathon grinned. Time for a hunt, then.