The days I spent hunting, gathering, and building are mostly a blur. I remember completing projects, but it seems the time worked was shorter and less arduous than I should expect, and I remember almost nothing about the work itself. As I see them regularly, I know I put up four walls and a roof, fenced in a sizable plot around them, and even relocated some of the fruit bearing trees into my new yard. I once suspected some invisible force was compelling me to build, and granted me strength and speed to do so. I found this absurd idea to be as such after weeks without meeting anything more intelligent than the giant butterflies that shy away from felled lumber.
My land was much further north of the abandoned towns, and I found few shreds of long gone travelers in the area, so I slept easy for awhile. I lost track of the days since settling once the routine truly took hold. I became bored and content. I was rich by anyone who might collect skins or rocks or flowers, but I felt the need for more. Taking the dog exploring no longer had the same sense of wonder, and I tired of leaving behind land markers of my own that I'd never visit again, like those before me. It was time, I knew, to retrace steps and investigate the unknowns I'd been hiding from. The abandoned towns were still a spooky thought, but now I had somewhere to run to if things went wrong.
The first one I approached was smaller than I'd imagined when I first passed it at some distance. Having developed my hunting skills, I could tell early on and with certainty that none who built there remained there. I was free to move about the town structures, quickly realizing the probable reason for their existence: resources not found elsewhere. The black oil from underground seemed to contain magical properties, and the clear blue stone was likely a currency of its own. I felt there must be some economy surrounding these materials that was full of life, but was perplexed that it could be left to ruin in such abundance.
I took what I could carry as I continued around the town. What I thought were residences were more of storehouses, often without amenities leaving only floor space to stack their owners' harvests. I was excited to recognize insignia on some of the houses corresponding to the same on land markers I'd encountered before. In one instance, a house clearly belonged to the same owner as a cabin I found quite some distance from the town, furthering my new found theory that people did not live in the towns so much as work in them.
I thought to raise my own storehouse here, but considered it would be merely an extension of my solitude. I wanted to find active civilization. It was the only possible next frontier for me. I preferred the chance to find allies and enemies across the unknown, versus the probability to find neither behind my fence. I needed new means of personal advancement, and I could not do it alone. I wasn't afraid anymore, though, I remember my heart sinking at the thought of returning to where I entered the world. Not due to fear, but guilt. How long had I been dying a simple hermit instead of pursuing the truth of my origins? In a way, I was born there, someone must know something, and so I had to go back.
My land was much further north of the abandoned towns, and I found few shreds of long gone travelers in the area, so I slept easy for awhile. I lost track of the days since settling once the routine truly took hold. I became bored and content. I was rich by anyone who might collect skins or rocks or flowers, but I felt the need for more. Taking the dog exploring no longer had the same sense of wonder, and I tired of leaving behind land markers of my own that I'd never visit again, like those before me. It was time, I knew, to retrace steps and investigate the unknowns I'd been hiding from. The abandoned towns were still a spooky thought, but now I had somewhere to run to if things went wrong.
The first one I approached was smaller than I'd imagined when I first passed it at some distance. Having developed my hunting skills, I could tell early on and with certainty that none who built there remained there. I was free to move about the town structures, quickly realizing the probable reason for their existence: resources not found elsewhere. The black oil from underground seemed to contain magical properties, and the clear blue stone was likely a currency of its own. I felt there must be some economy surrounding these materials that was full of life, but was perplexed that it could be left to ruin in such abundance.
I took what I could carry as I continued around the town. What I thought were residences were more of storehouses, often without amenities leaving only floor space to stack their owners' harvests. I was excited to recognize insignia on some of the houses corresponding to the same on land markers I'd encountered before. In one instance, a house clearly belonged to the same owner as a cabin I found quite some distance from the town, furthering my new found theory that people did not live in the towns so much as work in them.
I thought to raise my own storehouse here, but considered it would be merely an extension of my solitude. I wanted to find active civilization. It was the only possible next frontier for me. I preferred the chance to find allies and enemies across the unknown, versus the probability to find neither behind my fence. I needed new means of personal advancement, and I could not do it alone. I wasn't afraid anymore, though, I remember my heart sinking at the thought of returning to where I entered the world. Not due to fear, but guilt. How long had I been dying a simple hermit instead of pursuing the truth of my origins? In a way, I was born there, someone must know something, and so I had to go back.
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