Completed Fruits of the Wilds II

[Trevor Hightly]

Timestamp: 16th of Summer, 517 A.V.

Trevor's hands chafed a bit, as he stacked the sticks together into a brown and green-ish teepee of kindling. The young man built the cooking fire slowly and dutifully out of the various branches and debris that he'd collected from the forest's edge's undergrowth.

The sticks that Trevor had collected quickly grew into a somewhat awkward looking, small tower of wood with a hollowed center big enough for a person's hand to fit inside it--this gap inside the teepee of wood would allow Trevor to put a bit of kindling under the sticks of the cooking fire to start their burning.

In all actuality, Trevor's construction was a bit odd looking and not quite the most efficient design. He had never built a fire before, but he knew that wood burned and that leaves caught fire quickly, so in his mind, the two being combined must lead to at least something like what the cooking fire that he wanted.

Trevor reached for his flint and steel, but not before first looking at the unlit fire that he'd built one last time--he hadn't given the fire too much fuel, surely things couldn't get too out of hand.

The young man's hands wrapped around his flint and steel and he grabbed the small piles of dead, dried leaves that he'd gathered along with the sticks he'd used to build his cooking fire.

Trevor slid the dried leaves into the open space below the collection of sticks that he'd stacked together, and then withdrew his hands. The young man then held his flint and still above the whole construction of wood that he'd stacked and made, but hesitated and instead brought it down closer to the kindling below the cooking fire's frame.

Trevor did his best to smash his flint and steel together, but only a minimal number of sparks were produced--none of which caught on the leaves which the man was trying to light.

Seasonal Wordcount: 2,916 + 321 = 3,237

[Trevor Hightly]

Timestamp: 16th of Summer, 517 A.V.

Trevor pursed his lips and shifted them to the sides in contemplation. Getting a spark out of steel and flint was harder than he thought it was going to be.

The young man wondered if the number of sparks that he was producing every time he struck together his flint and steel was normal, no matter how minuscule that number seemed to be to him.

For a moment, Trevor entertained the thought that he might need more tinder and kindling to get his fire going. His hands stopped working his flint and steel and he pondered on the leaves that he'd intended to use light up.

Trevor's blue eyes only absentmindedly stared at the leaves under the would-be-cooking-fire for a fraction of a second only; the young man's mind flickered with the desire for the leaves to be engulfed with flame--and then they were.

Trevor almost didn't notice the leaves warming up at first--why would he, he wasn't touching them? However, when one of the small, green pieces of foliage began to glow with actual heat Trevor did notice.

The leaf appeared to catch flame all on its own. Trevor glanced down at his flint and steel but quickly ruled it out as the source for any sparks that might have lit the leaf ablaze. The man wondered if perhaps one of the few embers that he'd created a moment ago, when he was actively striking together his fire starter, might have simply taken a moment to catch onto a leaf, but then Trevor realized that the leaf that was now sparkling with heat had been the exact one he'd been staring at while he thought of fire--something just felt a bit odd, Trevor's intuition was telling him that something that was more than the possibly a bit more than mundane was occurring.

Seasonal Wordcount: 3,237 + 310 = 3,547

[Trevor Hightly]

Timestamp: 16th of Summer, 517 A.V.

Trevor's mind couldn't quite accept what his intuition was trying to tell him. The young man watched, now completely unconcerned with the surrounding world, as the small leaf that he had been staring at spread its flame to another one beside it.

Trevor's brow furrowed and his mind reeled with curiosity and just a bit of excitement. He could barely believe that what he thought that he had just seen could be true.

Trevor directed his attention to one of the leaves that had not been lit by the few leaves that the fire of the first had spread to and that was separated from them by a few of its unlit kin. The man tried to recreate what he'd felt before when the first leaf had begun to blaze; he thought of fire, and heat, and a desire for it, but this time he also willed that said heat would enter the mortal plane even without any physical reason for it to.

The man focused, much as he did when he willed his body to change shape, but unlike when he willed his physical body to forget itself he felt no djed being consumed by his willpower. Trevor had never heard of any type of magic, other than gods-given miracles, that didn't require djed. He didn't even know if it was possible for a mortal mind to alter the physical plane without either using djed or physical effort.

Trevor wondered if he might have imagined everything, but only for a second--then the second leaf that he'd directed his attention to sizzled and burst into flames just as the first one had.

Trevor felt a shot of shock run up his spine and, without thinking, directed his mind to another leaf that wasn't burning, and, to his growing shock, it caught fire even quicker than the other two that he had lit previously had.

"Gods," Trevor whispered to himself quietly.

He had certainly never been able to lit fires with his mind before, but now--somehow, someway--it seemed that he could. Trevor didn't know if this discovery of a power was a good thing--could it be dangerous? Trevor mused that it was indeed possible that such a power could cause a lot of trouble, but it at least seemed that it was under his control.

Trevor glanced at a nearby tree. The man thought of fire, but did not directly will the tree to be engulfed--and nothing happened; the man quickly scolded himself for such a reckless action, but when nothing proved to happen he risked directing his attention to the tree's leaves and those of multiple other trees and still no horrific forest fire was born from his thoughts.

Trevor stood up abruptly and looked down to his cooking fire, which was now truly beginning to sizzle and crackle. It seemed to be acting like a normal fire and didn't seem apt to spread--he figured that it should be fine to leave it on its own for only a bit. The man turned his attention away from his cooking fire and made his way to the very close by forest's edge.

Seasonal Wordcount: 522 + 3,547 = 4,069

[Trevor Hightly]

Timestamp: 16th of Summer, 517 A.V.

Trevor approached the jungle's treeline with a certain air of hurry that was spurned on by sheer curiosity. The young man needed to satisfy his mind's questions about what was happening.

Upon reaching the jungle's edge, Trevor scanned the underbrush for any fallen foliage; he was careful to only be on the lookout for any fallen debris that was not in the area that he'd collected the fuel for his cooking fire from. In Trevor's mind, it was still quite possible that, perhaps at least, there was something peculiar about the nature of the leaves that he'd previously gathered, rather than there being anything intrinsically different about himself that'd explain the seemingly supernatural events that had taken place with the fire he'd built; it was not that he'd ever entertained the idea of there being any existing plants that would react to thoughts of fire by spontaneously combusting, but he'd also never thought on if his mind could summon fire out of Mizahar's aether.

Even on the edges of Syka's jungle, where the sand of the settlement's beach line intermingled and mixed with the soil of its jungles, there was a heavy amount of undergrown. Trevor could feel the fern-like plants, vines, and shrubs rubbing up against the outside of his brown pants, as he collected a handful of dryish jungle moss into his palm's grasp.

Holding the dried plant life, Trevor carried himself on his legs and his collected moss in his hands back to Syka's sands. He walked far enough away from the jungle to ensure that nothing disastrous could happen as a result of what he would do next.

Trevor bent low and allowed his knees to sink into the soft sand of the beach, which cracked and shifted aloud as he displaced it with his body weight. The man then sat the moss that he held in his hand atop the sand in front of himself.

Seasonal Wordcount: 4,069 + 320 = 4,389

[Trevor Hightly]

Timestamp: 16th of Summer, 517 A.V.

The sinew and muscles in Trevor's right hand squeezed and clenched and lifted said hand up to point at the pile of moss.

The moss' brown and green colors faded to a matte and vibrant, ashy black, as the small pile of vegetation ignited. All the colors of fire danced within and atop the flesh of the moss; purple'ish blues, crimsons of every hue, and oranges of every variation flashed and danced in a ballet of heat, and fire, and passion.

Trevor's blue eyes reflected the image of the burning moss, as it burnt itself out. The edges of the moss were the first of the plant to be consumed by the dance of the multi-colored flames that licked across its surface; the fire spun, spread, and drove up from the moss, until the plant had all but been turned to ash. And yet, despite having consumed all of its fuel, the flames that Trevor had lit with his will alone did not dissipate into the air, they instead burned on above the sand of the beach.

Trevor's brow contorted somewhat. He couldn't help but wonder why the universe had chosen to grant him such a gift--nevertheless, a gift he did see his new found ability as. Being able to create fire without a spark and with only a thought was truly something amazing and astounding.

Trevor stood. He figured it would be best not to tell anyone about his discovery for now; he didn't know how long his new abilities would last, and as long as he didn't intend to hurt anyone with his new ability he did not see it as anyone's business but his own.

Trevor smiled in a reserved amazement and simultaneously brought his boot down on the flame that he'd started with the moss. The man snubbed the flame out with the toe of his shoe and was satisfied to see that the flames that he'd called from the air could still be quenched by normals means, or at the very least with the tip of a boot.

Seasonal Wordcount: 341 + 4,389 = 4,730

[Trevor Hightly]

Timestamp: 16th of Summer, 517 A.V.

Trevor wiped the ashes from his boot gently against Skya's sand, in the process knocking and smearing off most of the dead fire's remains from his boot's tip.

The man made his way back to his cooking fire, which was now burning down to coals. The wood above the leaves that he'd used to start the fire had already spread their flames to the small tepee of sticks that he'd framed the fire with; still, all in all, he'd not built that big of a frame for his fire and the flames of it were relatively low and tame--although they did sparkle with a beautiful blending of fiery hues that just almost seemed a bit preternatural in the amount of aesthetic appeal that they held for anyone who might choose to look at them.

Trevor lowered himself down to one knee in front of his small fire. He wasn't worried about how he'd started the fire anymore; he'd demonstrated to himself that the flames he'd created could be controlled and that they were seemingly like any other. And, he still had things to do this day; although, he would be lying if he were to say that his newfound abilities weren't still on his mind.

Trevor reached for the pot of quassia bark chips that he'd soaked overnight, picking said vessel up and gently placing it down on the bed of coals that he'd made his cooking fire on. Trevor removed his hands from the side of the cooking pot and simply waited--he'd seen his mother use a fire and a pot like this a long time ago but had never had much practice doing it himself until now.

From what Uta had told him, he simply needed to bring the bark chips to boil, and then dilute the liquid that would be left over--a liquid which would then be infused with the properties of the quassia plant, which were particularly useful in a jungle environment as the wood could create a substance that repelled insects of almost all kinds and that could also be used to remove ticks, lice, flees, and their like.

Seasonal Wordcount: 340 + 5,525 = 5,865

[Trevor Hightly]

Timestamp: 16th of Summer, 517 A.V.

The bottom of the pot quickly heated up on the bed of coals and low flames, bringing the water inside it to a continuously-growing higher temperature as it did so. Trevor sat back on his hands, watching the filled pot, as it's water began to churn of its own accord from the heat, and then bubble and tremble powerfully.

The bark chips inside the boiling water were pulled under the liquid and then thrown about by the heat before being pushed back to the surface, over and over in an underwater cyclone as the heated water drained more and more energy from the coals that it sat upon. The boiling concoction's bubbles rose the water's surface and popped in quick succession, creating a sound that was somewhere between sounding like a release of steam and the marching of hundreds of tiny, tiny feet.

It wasn't very long before the pot began to steam. At first, Trevor watched this development neutrally, but then he sat up a bit--he didn't want to lose all the water in the pot.

In order to save his bug repellant, Trevor sat up and nudged the pot off of the coals of the fire with his boot. The fire wasn't very high, so as long as he wasn't reckless, it wouldn't likely scorch him or his footwear. So with caution in mind, the cooking pot was pushed from the coals of the fire and onto the outer ring of ash that surrounded them and then onto the sand of Syka's beach.

With the cooking pot dislodged, Trevor withdrew his foot and rolled onto his knees. The young man made his way over to the pot that had been previously boiling, just as the liquid inside said pot had begun to settle.

There was a bit of sappy-smelling steam still wafting out of the pot of boiled quassia bark and juice, but said steam quickly began to dissipate after the heat source that had caused the hot mist to form had been removed from the equation. Trevor stared in at the pot's contents and noticed that the water within it had taken on a light brown, almost tea-like coloration--he only hoped that this was what was supposed to happen.

Coming to the conclusion that he would have to find out from someone more knowledgeable from himself whether he had successfully brewed anything useful, Trevor turned his attention back to the fire. He didn't spend much time reflecting on his newfound ability to seemingly spark flames from nothing, as he had done when creating the cooking fire; his day would need to go on, no matter what odd things had happened at its beginning--not to say that he wouldn't feel the need to further investigate said ability, it would just have to be at a time when he didn't have his day already planned out.

Trevor dug his hands into the sand beside himself, cupping and pulling a handful of the sediment into his grasp. He then tossed the sand atop the burning embers of the fire that he'd started; each piece of sand made a small thudding noise as it descended onto the burning wood and ash of the fire, with all of the sand combining to produce a muffled cacophony of noise as it fell to combat the flames.

Trevor repeated the action of digging up sand and then dousing it over his fire, until the heat from it was all but completely buried--and then some, just so that he could be sure it was truly drowned with sand.

Seasonal Word Count: 581 + 5,865 = 6,446