Another twelve steps brought Nick to the lava’s edge. After making sure that this patch didn’t appear to be bubbling and splattering, he raised one hand to shield his eyes from the heat and then touched the tip of his branch to the smoldering stone. The dry wood caught instantly, greedy flames licking the sides of the stick before Nick raised it upright. He took two big steps back, turned around, and then walked over to his fire pit, arriving just before the burning branch singed the hair off his knuckles.

With a grin of anticipation, he leaned the firebrand against the woodpile, then sprinkled some kindling on top to ignite the tinder below. Releasing a great cloud of white smoke, the rest of the wood caught, and his bonfire sprang to life, hot enough to make him take a hasty step back.

At last, it was time for the good part, preparing and then savoring his feast. Nick walked over to where he had hidden his prize, brushing off the wrappings so that no sand fell onto the meat below. He untied the knots in the twine and put the cord back into his belt pouch. After unwrapping the fronds he had used as casing, Nick realized that he had a dilemma on his hands. Which one do I want to eat first?

After mulling it over, he decided that the claw meat looked enough like lobster that it might be palatable. Perhaps even delectable. He would still eat the lizard’s tail, but as reptile had not been a regular part of Nick’s diet back on Earth, he had a hard time getting excited about the prospect of consuming it. Besides, while the swordclaws were omnivore hunters, the komos were predator scavengers. The flavor of their meat would likely leave something to be desired.

His decision made, Nick picked up the claw and tried to slide out the meat trapped inside. He quickly realized that there were several places where cartilage was anchored firmly to the shell. He took out his tiny scissors and carefully cut the flesh free from the chitin, wishing for the twentieth time that he had found a proper knife. A steel blade would make his life easier in so many ways.

At last, fingers covered in the crab’s blue blood, Nick severed the final strands and the meat slid free. The swordclaw’s flesh was spongy and pale, streaked here and there with pink and orange, marbled thick with muscle and fat. It made his mouth water just looking at it.

Nick speared the steak through the middle with his crude spit and, after testing to make sure that the meat would not slide off the wood, he held it over the open flame. Soon, the steak started to sizzle. Rich drops of fat falling into the open flames below, releasing rich clouds of greasy smoke that smelled absolutely delicious.

Nick was careful not to let his dinner burn as he roasted the claw meat over the firepit, waiting until the surface shimmered with a bronze sheen as it seared on the spit. By this point, his stomach was growling like a big bear trapped in a small cage. It felt like a singularity had formed inside his abdomen, a desire to consume so intense it felt more like a demand.

Rendered ravenous by the anticipation of the feast to come, it took everything that he had to resist the aroma of roasting meat until both sides were fully cooked. The instant it looked ready, Nick set the hot steak onto a flat stone he had rinsed clean in the ocean, then used his scissors to cut through the center.

The moment he was sure that the flesh was cooked all the way through, Nick shoved half of the filet into his mouth and started to chew, shuddering in pleasure as a savory tide of flavor broke over his palate. He singed his tongue in his haste, but he didn’t care. He was utterly captivated by enjoying what was unquestionably the best meal of his life. At least as much of his life as he could remember.

The next thing Nick knew, the last bite was sliding down his throat and into his stomach, which was lounging in contentment like a puppy getting a belly rub. He didn’t even remember picking up the other piece. While I respect their live and let live philosophy, I need to figure out a way to hunt some of these crabs without pissing off the rest. Nick wiped away the hot grease running down his chin, then licked every drop of flavor from his fingers before turning his attention to the lizard’s tail.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

The komo’s scales proved too tough for his miniature shears to sever, and without a way to remove the skin, Nick had a harder time cooking the tail. As a result, he wound up burning the shit out of his impromptu kabob, but at least the interior wasn’t black when he scraped off the layer of char. While the aroma was one step above rank, it made his nostrils flair in disgust.

He really didn’t want to eat the tail so soon after bringing his tongue to heaven, but food was food and Nick needed all the energy he could get if he wanted to survive the ordeals to come. Wrinkling his nose, he proceeded to take his first bite.

The komo’s meat was as disgusting as the swordclaw’s had been divine, and he wished that he had something stronger than water to wash it down. Pinching his nose to mute the flavor, Nick forced himself to devour every bite of the stringy mess until only scraps were left hanging on the bone. He would have used the rest to make stew if he had a way to boil water, but there was no point in wishing for what he didn’t have. Nick rinsed away the lingering traces of nastiness with the last of the water in his canteen, then pulled the hollowed-out claw onto his lap to take a closer look.

The interior edge was rock solid and razor sharp, and this observation gave Nick an idea. Enjoying the sensation of a belly full of warm meat, he ran his fingers across the uneven stubble covering his face. At long last, Nick was going to shave. He pulled the claw apart and carefully arranged the smaller piece between a pair of flat rocks, then used a third to break off a segment near the tip. He inserted the fragment of chitin into a crack running along the side of a short stick, formed as it had dried in the sun.

He used his scissors to cut a strip free from his roll of gauze and wrapped it around the bottom of the shattered bit of claw, to keep it from cutting through the twine he wound around the base. Now, he could grip the makeshift razor without slicing open his fingers. Nick grinned as he walked over to the shore so that he could rinse off the razor as he went to work.

Fifteen minutes later, he ran his hands over his clean-shaven face, wincing as the salty spray carried by the breeze splattered against his raw flesh. Nick had given himself the worst case of razor burn in his life, but he had managed to shave without slicing his throat in the process. He wished that he had a mirror to look at his reflection, because Nick finally felt like himself again.

Before he called it a night, he used the rest of the claw to whittle away at the end of a long branch, shaping it into something resembling a spear. It was crude and would likely break after scoring a few solid hits, but at last Nick had something that felt like an actual weapon, although he doubted that it would even qualify as a basic item to the System.

Hoping that the fire would discourage any beasts from drawing near, Nick settled down into the sand. He had set up his camp on a triangular strip of land. With the lava running along one side and the ocean on the other, anything dangerous would approach from the south, where its view of him would be obstructed by the bonfire. Just to be safe, he rubbed handfuls of charcoal and ash into his skin and clothing to mask his scent, covered his body with fronds, and worked his way deeper into the hole he had dug.

With this setup, Nick should be hard to notice. The flame-warmed sands would even keep him from being spotted by creatures that could sense body heat. While he by no means felt safe, this was the best arrangement he could come up with, and Nick needed to get some sleep, or it would dull his mind and impair his reflexes going forward.

He then turned his attention to the soundscape of the shoreline. He filtered out the snaps and pops of his fire and listened as closely as he could, trying to get a sense for what this environment sounded like when everything was calm, so that he would have an easier time noticing anything out of place later. Nick eventually hoped to train himself to wake instantly after hearing anything unexpected, but for now he had to accept that falling asleep was the most dangerous part of his day. At least with his Survivor trait, he only needed six hours of shuteye a night.

While he attuned himself to his surroundings, Nick reviewed his plans for the next stage of his survival-vacation on the Searing Isle. He would continue to train his body and skills along the beach, but now it was time to consider how to approach penetrating deeper into the island’s interior, starting with the southern forest around the giant tree. It was bound to have its fair share of danger, but at least the terrain was not as overtly threatening as the territory of the spiders and shrooms.

He spent longer than usual trying to unravel the mystery of the wand, running his fingers along the gems. He thought he felt something for a moment, like there was something slumbering inside that wasn’t quite ready to wake up, before giving up for the night and closing his eyes.

Nick slept remarkably well under the circumstances, too deep in dream to hear the thunder rumbling in the distance.