for any branches that might be long enough. He was feeling weak with hunger now, and his fear was getting a deeper grip on him, but he had to make sure he was going to be safe before anything else.
There was another sound, much closer. It sounded like something between a howl and a scream, and in a fraction of a moment all thoughts of food and shelter were driven out of Peter’s mind: he broke into a sprint. As soon as he saw one that looked suitable, he climbed up a tree as high as he could, and stayed there.
Peter didn’t sleep at all that night. When dawn broke, the combined sleep-deprivation and hunger made him feel as though he might faint at any moment. In fact, he wasn’t convinced that he hadn’t already, for a few seconds at least. He felt cold and scared, the same feeling he had had before, when he had been ill as a child.
Eventually he convinced himself that there wasn’t anything waiting for him at the bottom of the tree, and he slowly began to lower himself out of the branches to the ground. The air was still and cold, but it had a heaviness, which suggested it was going to be hot, like it had been yesterday.
He made his way back to the beach to get a drink of water, and while he was there he decided to see if he could find some fish to eat. He knew of a spell that might help him see small lifeforms such as fish, and another that might make it slightly easier to catch them, but he wasn’t entirely sure of how effectively he could cast them in his current state of sleep-deprivation.
Maybe this time he would have to do it the old-fashioned way. So, after stumbling to a low-hanging branch a few tens of yards before reaching the cliff, he hacked a branch off what looked like some kind of pine tree with his knife, and sharpened one end to a point.
‘Rough, but it’ll have to do for now,’ he said to himself.
He walked slowly, allowing himself to lean a little on his improvised spear as he hobbled along the cliff and looked for a gentler slope he could walk or slide down.
After a few minutes, he found a place where he could slide down on his backside, and when he had he made straight for the water. He threw himself prostrate before the water and drew his straw from his pocket, and drank as though he might never drink again. He hadn’t even known he was this thirsty.
When he felt like he had drunk enough, he sat up. He was going to have to go in, now, and look for fish. He took off his jeans and shoes and left them on the beach.
It took him most of the day to find anything. By the time it was starting to grow dark again, he had only found a handful of small fish, but they looked like enough to keep him going. Once he had eaten and slept, he thought he might be able to work out some of the magic he would need to be able to find and catch them more efficiently.
He wasn’t sure what kind of fish he had caught, but there were six of them impaled on his spear, and each one was about six inches long. Now he thought about it, that wouldn’t make a bad meal. Lifting himself out of the water, he stuck his spear in the ground next to his jeans and walked a short way to collect a few pieces of driftwood: he was grateful that putting light to wood was so easily, both magically and not magically.
Within ten minutes, he had enough wood in a small pile a few feet from his spear and jeans and shoes, and had managed to execute a small spell to make them take light. A few minutes later the fire was crackling away happily, and he was roasting his fish over it, feeling very pleased with himself.
As he ate, he felt his strength returning to him, little by little. He still felt light-headed from the tiredness, but now he wasn’t hungry any more, he felt like he actually could survive. Once he had eaten, he buried the bones and innards of the fish in the sand and put his jeans and shoes back on. It was getting dark again, and while he felt more human, he was still terrified of what might come out at night.
At least
There was another sound, much closer. It sounded like something between a howl and a scream, and in a fraction of a moment all thoughts of food and shelter were driven out of Peter’s mind: he broke into a sprint. As soon as he saw one that looked suitable, he climbed up a tree as high as he could, and stayed there.
Peter didn’t sleep at all that night. When dawn broke, the combined sleep-deprivation and hunger made him feel as though he might faint at any moment. In fact, he wasn’t convinced that he hadn’t already, for a few seconds at least. He felt cold and scared, the same feeling he had had before, when he had been ill as a child.
Eventually he convinced himself that there wasn’t anything waiting for him at the bottom of the tree, and he slowly began to lower himself out of the branches to the ground. The air was still and cold, but it had a heaviness, which suggested it was going to be hot, like it had been yesterday.
He made his way back to the beach to get a drink of water, and while he was there he decided to see if he could find some fish to eat. He knew of a spell that might help him see small lifeforms such as fish, and another that might make it slightly easier to catch them, but he wasn’t entirely sure of how effectively he could cast them in his current state of sleep-deprivation.
Maybe this time he would have to do it the old-fashioned way. So, after stumbling to a low-hanging branch a few tens of yards before reaching the cliff, he hacked a branch off what looked like some kind of pine tree with his knife, and sharpened one end to a point.
‘Rough, but it’ll have to do for now,’ he said to himself.
He walked slowly, allowing himself to lean a little on his improvised spear as he hobbled along the cliff and looked for a gentler slope he could walk or slide down.
After a few minutes, he found a place where he could slide down on his backside, and when he had he made straight for the water. He threw himself prostrate before the water and drew his straw from his pocket, and drank as though he might never drink again. He hadn’t even known he was this thirsty.
When he felt like he had drunk enough, he sat up. He was going to have to go in, now, and look for fish. He took off his jeans and shoes and left them on the beach.
It took him most of the day to find anything. By the time it was starting to grow dark again, he had only found a handful of small fish, but they looked like enough to keep him going. Once he had eaten and slept, he thought he might be able to work out some of the magic he would need to be able to find and catch them more efficiently.
He wasn’t sure what kind of fish he had caught, but there were six of them impaled on his spear, and each one was about six inches long. Now he thought about it, that wouldn’t make a bad meal. Lifting himself out of the water, he stuck his spear in the ground next to his jeans and walked a short way to collect a few pieces of driftwood: he was grateful that putting light to wood was so easily, both magically and not magically.
Within ten minutes, he had enough wood in a small pile a few feet from his spear and jeans and shoes, and had managed to execute a small spell to make them take light. A few minutes later the fire was crackling away happily, and he was roasting his fish over it, feeling very pleased with himself.
As he ate, he felt his strength returning to him, little by little. He still felt light-headed from the tiredness, but now he wasn’t hungry any more, he felt like he actually could survive. Once he had eaten, he buried the bones and innards of the fish in the sand and put his jeans and shoes back on. It was getting dark again, and while he felt more human, he was still terrified of what might come out at night.
At least
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