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B4—Chapter 46: Rue’s culinary retreat
🕑 Added 2024-11-21 10:18:14 +0000 UTCWe spent an entire week camped on the now-cleared lake’s shore before tackling the rest of the occurrence. That week was something else. Rue, in particular, had a field day with all the snakes and eels he devoured. I swear, he grew larger—his already massive frame looking just a little bulkier, his fur shinier, and his tail wagging faster.
Al hadn’t been exaggerating; the creatures in the occurrence were indeed extra delicious. Rue, of course, treated the whole thing like the ultimate culinary vacation. He savored every bite with the enthusiasm of a food critic at an all-you-can-eat buffet. His telepathic exclamations of “Bestest snake!” or “Yummy water snake!” became a regular part of our mealtime soundtrack.
As for me, I barely had a moment to sit still. I spent my days cooking, smoking, and grilling—over and over, on repeat. By the time I’d finished preparing one batch, Rue was already eyeing the next pile of snakes or eels like a kid waiting for dessert. Mahya and Al, for their part, didn’t mind. They were happy to let Rue enjoy his feast while they ate their share, stored some for later, and relaxed.
I, however, felt like a short-order cook in a mana-rich wilderness retreat. Naturally, Rue thought this was the best arrangement imaginable, and watching his tail wag at warp speed after every meal made it bearable. I loved cooking. It was my therapy, meditation, and problem-solving go to. But being chained to the grill and smoker turned out to be a less appealing proposition.
During this week, Al seemed to adopt the forest as his playground. He’d disappear for most of the day, only reappearing at mealtimes like clockwork. He always came back brimming with enthusiasm, happily rambling about the quality of the plants he’d collected. He even somehow found mushrooms, though none of us had seen any during our clearing operations. I had no idea where he unearthed them—or if I wanted to know.
Twice, Al returned with a different kind of story, reporting encounters with an earth-attuned bear that had wandered into the now-cleared ex-wood-cat territory. The first time, he managed to chase it away; the second time, he came back looking slightly disheveled and muttered something about "a tactical retreat."
Apparently, the bears were as tough as the rest of the creatures in this place. Much to my surprise, Lightning was utterly useless against them—their attunement to earth grounded it before it could do any damage. Fire wasn’t much help either. Al actually caused a fire twice trying to deal with them, but thankfully, he put it out both times with a potion he’d concocted specifically for such incidents after learning the Blazing Orb spell. Wind blades only scratched the bears, annoying them more than anything else. In the end, he couldn’t bring one down—just chase one off when it got too close to his foraging area or, when that failed, make a run for it.
When Rue heard about the bears, his ears perked up, and he trotted over to Al with his usual enthusiasm. “Bear tasty?” he asked, tail wagging expectantly. “Like Lis bears?”
It took me a moment to figure out what he was talking about, and then it clicked—he meant the quill-bears we’d brought back from Tuonela ages ago. Of course, Rue remembered their flavor, and of course, his primary concern was whether these new bears were equally delicious.
Al just sighed and shook his head. “I cannot answer that, as I have yet to defeat one. If you wish to test their culinary potential, perhaps you would like to volunteer for the next encounter?”
Rue huffed, wagging his tail a little slower, clearly undecided about whether he wanted to risk the effort. “Maybe later,” he muttered and trotted back to lie near the smoker with a resigned air.
To my immense delight and sheer relief, Mahya announced she didn’t plan to cut down the trees in the occurrence. When those words left her mouth, I swear my muscles threw a party complete with alcohol and music. The tension I’d been carrying melted away faster than ice under a fire spell.
That said, she did make an exception for one specific type of tree. They looked like African baobabs but with much more foliage, their thick trunks standing out like ancient giants among the other trees. Apparently, their wood was highly malleable—pliable enough to be shaped like clay with one of her skills—and Mahya had a method to make it rigid and durable after shaping. Of course, this caught her interest immediately.
Still, my happiness remained intact because she only wanted them for small items. Ultimately, she cut down about twenty trees, enough to last her for years, or so she claimed. Considering the size of those trunks, I didn’t doubt her.
Watching her work, I couldn’t help but sigh in relief. No endless hours of chopping trees, no aching muscles, and no rivers of sweat. Just Mahya, happily tinkering with a handful of unique wood she was genuinely excited about. It was a win-win—for her, for me, and especially for my muscles.
After a week of relaxation, we gathered to devise a plan to deal with the bears based on Al’s detailed (and occasionally dramatic) reports. The table was covered with a chaotic array of single-use scrolls and weapons as we debated our options. Al recounted his encounters with the creatures in meticulous detail, from their earth-attuned abilities to their apparent immunity to lightning and fire. Mahya took notes, occasionally raising an eyebrow at Al’s more colorful descriptions of his “tactical retreat.”
We reviewed everything we had—every spell scroll, weapon, and ounce of mana at our disposal—analyzing which strategies might work against the massive, magically grounded beasts. The consensus was that this would take much more coordination than our usual smash-and-zap approach.
I tried teaching Al the Exude Mana spell, hoping it would enhance his contribution to our upcoming operation, but I hit a wall almost immediately. No matter how carefully I guided him, his mana refused to connect with mine or let me take control fully. It was frustrating, to say the least, and it drove me crazy as I racked my brain for what I was doing wrong.
Then it clicked—he didn’t trust me completely, not in the same way Lis and Mahya did. It wasn’t about our friendship or camaraderie; it was about the sheer intimacy of the process. Teaching a spell like this required him to open up every part of himself—his mana, his essence—and expose it to me without reservation. That level of vulnerability wasn’t something you just handed over, even to a close friend.
Realizing this didn’t offend me. If anything, it deepened my appreciation for Lis and Mahya, who had placed that kind of trust in me. It made me reflect on just how much we’d built together.
Al’s reluctance wasn’t a flaw—it was human. It didn’t diminish our friendship or the respect I had for him. Trusting someone with every part of yourself is a monumental leap, and not everyone can—or should—take that lightly. I could hardly blame him for holding back. It was a reminder of how complex and fragile those connections can be.
Once the plan was finalized, we packed our gear, closed up the house, and headed cautiously into the bear's territory. The forest here felt different—denser and heavier, as though the air itself carried a warning. Even the trees seemed to lean in closer, their branches forming a tangled canopy that filtered the light into shadowy patches. The tension was palpable, like the entire forest was holding its breath.
Rue trotted ahead of us, his tail wagging just enough to fake confidence, though his ears swiveled constantly at every faint rustle or crack. He was our “bait,” striding through the undergrowth as if he were the only one there. Meanwhile, the three of us remained invisible, carefully tracking his every move and waiting for a bear to take the “bait.”
The plan was simple enough in theory: let Rue draw the bear out while we stayed hidden, ready to strike. In practice, it felt like walking into the jaws of a trap, hoping to slam them shut before they snapped down on us instead. My grip tightened on the spear in my hand as we crept forward. For this operation, I chose the runed spear from Tuonela—the one I’d restored but never used before. During our inspection, we discovered that the runes contained embedded spells, activated by channeling mana into them. We hoped the spear’s nature attunement would be useful, and I was immensely relieved I’d used the nature affinity stone. Without it, the spear would have been little more than a decorative relic in my hands.
Rue’s telepathic voice floated back to me, calm and measured despite the situation. “Big bear soon?”
“Hopefully,” I sent back. Now, it was just a matter of waiting for the first bear to "bite."
When a bear did, our plan worked like a charm.
The bear’s appearance caught me completely off guard. I had expected something resembling a regular bear—maybe larger, a little otherworldly, but still... bear-like. What emerged from the underbrush was anything but. It looked more like a giant capybara that had spent every day at the gym for years. Its muscles rippled under fur the color of dark soil, and its sheer bulk made it look more like a boulder with legs. Despite its strange appearance, it acted like a bear, rearing up on its hind legs and letting out a bone-rattling roar that echoed through the forest. Standing on its hind legs, it towered over three meters tall, swiping at the air with massive, clawed arms as if daring us to make a move.
Rue was the first to act, darting to the side with the agility of a much smaller creature. “Big bear big!” he barked telepathically, excitement and nerves rolling off him in equal measure.
That was our signal. The four of us tore the single-use Ice Wall scrolls in one synchronized motion. The spell erupted around the bear, forming a crystalline cage that trapped it on all sides. It roared again, smashing its paws against the icy walls, but the barriers held—for now.
Mahya and Al wasted no time, leaping onto the nearest trees with the ease of practiced warriors. I shot into the air, hovering above the bear as I prepared my next move. The beast roared its defiance, but it had nowhere to go. Channeling my mana, I cast Exude Mana three times in rapid succession.
“Now!” I shouted.
Mahya and Al immediately opened fire, the deafening cracks of their Barrett M82 sniper rifles shattering the forest’s tense silence. Each shot was expertly aimed, the massive bullets slamming into the bear’s head like miniature battering rams. The rounds didn’t penetrate far into its thick skull, but that wasn’t the goal. The repeated impacts rattled its brain, throwing the creature into disarray.
The bear roared in fury, its bellow so loud it reverberated through my chest. It reared back onto its hind legs, swaying as if trying to shake off the disorientation. Then, with a thunderous crash, it collapsed onto all fours, the ground trembling beneath its massive weight. The impact sent shockwaves rippling through the area, nearly shattering the ice wall directly in front of it. The crystalline barrier groaned under the strain but held firm—just barely.
With the bear momentarily stunned, I descended, gripping the runed spear tightly. As it thrashed, I plunged the spear into its side, pouring mana into it with everything I had. The bear bucked and roared, slamming its massive body against the ice walls, but they held firm.
I gritted my teeth, focusing all my energy into the spear. The runes lit up, glowing with a vibrant green light as the nature-attuned magic took hold. Slowly, branches sprouted from the bear’s body—at first small, then growing larger and thicker, twisting out of its flesh like a living prison. The beast thrashed violently, its roars turning into guttural growls as the branches grew and spread, tangling around its limbs and chest.
The bear fought against the magic for an eternity, slamming itself against the ice walls. But the branches tightened, wrapping around its body like a cage until finally, with one last shuddering roar, it stilled.
I pulled the spear free, panting as the glow from the runes faded. The ice walls shimmered in the light, cracks spiderwebbing through them as they melted. The massive, branch-entwined beast lay motionless within.
I stored it, and we looked for the next bear.
It took us only two days to clear the bears’ area. It wasn’t smaller, but there were less bears. The walking stomach was ecstatic. The bears were even more delicious than the bears from Tuonela. This occurrence was Rue’s culinary retreat.
Comments
Jachin Nelson
You're Welcome
TravelingDreamer
LOL. Now, it's stuck in my mind. It took me years to get rid of it after my son grew up.
Jachin Nelson
Does anyone else imagine Rue singing 'Yummy snake' to the tune of Baby Shark?
Angela Roberts
I keep feeling sorry for these animals until I picture them in the world and think, "yeah, no, horrible plan." John needs to involve Rue in the cooking!
