Chapter 6: Familiar
The forest at dawn was unusually tranquil.
Caelen strolled gingerly, gripping his axe as if an anxious traveler griping a directory in a zombie film. His belly growled loudly enough to chase a squirrel from behind a bush.
"Yeah, yeah, I get it," he grumbled. "Food, food, I'll find some food."
He combed the ground for flint as Google Brain directed. After a solid twenty minutes of kicking rocks and stomping down sticks that creaked too much like bones, he saw a dark, dimmishly shiny piece half-hidden in rock near a small cliff.
"Flint!" he exclaimed, raising a fist like he struck gold.
Out came the pickaxe. A few firm whacks later:
[You have acquired: 3x Flint]
"Let's Goooo."
Now—food.
He looked at a group of bushes. Red berries. Yellow berries. Blue-ish berries. He recalled his search earlier:
Red = regret. Yellow = absolutely not. Blue = maybe don't die.