American Hunting: Starting with Solitary Life in the Wilderness

Chapter 201 Fortune smiles upon us
She was leaning against a birch tree covered in white spots, panting heavily. Each breath tugged at her empty stomach, sending waves of spasmodic pain through her.

Her face was as pale as the snow beneath her feet, and her lips were cracked and peeling from dehydration and cold, even oozing blood.

At her feet, stuck diagonally in the snow, was the crudely made, laughably simple "arrow" she had crafted herself.

It was a straight spruce stick, which I patiently sharpened with a knife and then repeatedly heated over a fire in an attempt to increase its hardness.

The tail feathers were made by gluing together two feathers from the wings of grouse she had hunted, resin scraped from pine trees, and a small piece of thread she had taken from her clothes.

This is the most "exquisite" work she could produce.

Just now, only ten minutes ago, Lady Luck seemed to smile at her.

A plump spruce grouse swaggered onto a bush less than fifteen meters in front of her, pecking at something with its head down.

That was a perfect goal, within reach!

After two days of running out of ammunition and food, this grouse was definitely a gift from Lady Luck to her!

Her heart pounded wildly, and the blood rushed to her brain with excitement, making her almost forget the dizziness caused by hunger.

I forced myself to calm down, using all my willpower to suppress the slight trembling in my body caused by weakness and excitement.

Then, with all her might, she raised her bow and nocked the "homemade life-saving arrow" that carried all her hopes.

She aimed, held her breath, and the whole world seemed to disappear, leaving only her, the bow, and the target so close at hand. She released her finger—a textbook release!

However, Lady Luck, after casting out the bait, mercilessly withdrew it.

After flying less than ten meters, the arrow began to swing and tumble uncontrollably, as if it were drunk, and completely lost its aim.

The flight path was no longer a straight line, but a struggling parabola.

Finally, it slumped into the snow a few meters away from the grouse in a limp and powerless manner.

The grouse was simply startled by the unexpected "visitor"!
But it seemed to feel no threat, tilting its head and curiously examining the stick stuck in the snow for a while with its small, black bean-like eyes.

Then he strode off and swaggered into the depths of the dense forest. That leisurely demeanor was, to Kelly, a more biting mockery than any words.

Failure, yet another complete and utter failure.

This is the third time today.

Kelly could no longer hold on; her body went limp, and she leaned against the birch tree behind her. A tremendous sense of loss and despair overwhelmed her like a cold tide.

"Why!" she spat out through gritted teeth, her voice filled with boundless anger and frustration. "Why just won't it work!"

She kept questioning herself, closing her eyes, and frantically replaying every detail of the arrow's flight in her mind.

"The center of gravity... it's still wrong this time!" She suddenly opened her eyes and found the problem.

"This stick is too light. Although the metal arrowhead provides enough weight for the head, the overall center of gravity of the arrow is too far forward. So when it leaves the bowstring, the drag generated by the fletching is not proportional to the inertia of the head, which is why it tumbles!"

Kelly was like a mad engineer, analyzing every parameter of the failure in her mind.

In the past, she only needed to know this knowledge, because there were perfect industrial machines to solve everything for her.

Now, every imbalance in the parameters has become a death sentence for her.

She regretted not being more careful when she missed the first few shots, and why she wasted her precious arrows on opportunities where she wasn't entirely sure of success!
"Idiot! Kelly, you're an idiot!" She pressed her forehead against the cold tree trunk, silently cursing herself.

Kelly looked at her recurve bow, which she had once been so proud of, then at the arrow stuck diagonally in the snow, and finally at her quiver, which now contained only two bear-hunting arrows.

The ten high-quality carbon fiber arrows she brought were all used up in the past twenty days of hunting and unexpected events. Only two bear-hunting arrows remained, which she had to keep as a trump card and could not use.

Two of them, due to misjudging the distance and wind drift, were lost in the boundless, deep snow.

Two other arrows, after piercing their prey, became deeply embedded in frozen soil or rock crevices due to their powerful penetrating force, resulting in damaged arrowheads and broken shafts.

The last four, while bringing her valuable prey, also developed minor cracks and deformations due to repeated use and impacts.

Without arrows, this highly skilled archer became a complete joke. The top-quality recurve bow in her hand was now no different from a fire poker.

So yesterday she made her own arrow, and when she removed the arrowhead from a broken arrow and carefully tied it to a spruce stick, she thought she had solved the biggest problem.

Instead of rushing off to hunt recklessly, she built a snowdrift near the shelter as a target and conducted several cautious test shots.

As she feared most, the flight trajectory was very erratic. The homemade arrow shaft was too soft for her powerful recurve bow, causing the arrow to sway from side to side like a fish tail after it was released, greatly affecting its accuracy.

But by then, hunger had made her lose patience. She watched the arrow, which, though wobbling, finally pierced the snowdrift, and forced herself to accept it.

"It's alright. I know its trajectory veers to the left, and I know it will sink after ten meters. As long as I take these variables into account, with my skills, I can still hit it!"

She had too much faith in her honed archery skills, believing that she could master this imperfect tool with her experience.

And so, with this fatal confidence, she began her hunt for the day.

As a result, reality gave her two resounding slaps in the face. When facing the first three targets today, the arrow missed the target by a hair's breadth.

Her expertise, all her pride and reliance, were rendered worthless in this primitive wilderness by a single, irreplaceable arrow.

Hunger, like a tangible demon, kept squeezing her stomach.

She couldn't remember the last time she had a decent meal; it felt like it was from the last century.

For the past two days, she has been eating the inner bark of birch trees and drinking pine needle water to keep herself full.

With a knife, she painstakingly scraped away the paper-thin outer bark of the birch tree, revealing the slippery, pale yellow cambium layer underneath.

She put the substance in her mouth and chewed it. It had a faint sweetness, but mostly an unbearable woody astringency that filled her mouth. She forced herself to swallow it, imagining it was some kind of "creative dish" from a high-end restaurant.

Kelly held up a small piece of freshly scraped, slippery birch bark to the camera, a numb, bitter smile on her face.

"Look at this, the survival manual says this thing can save lives. Ha, it's a scam."

"It can only deceive your mouth, giving you a little false sweetness, but it will never, ever fill your empty stomach."

She paused, her eyes becoming vacant. "My body... it has begun to punish me in the most direct way."

She pointed to her temple. "Now, if I stand up even a little quickly, everything goes black, and the whole world turns into buzzing gray noise. I have to hold onto a tree and wait several seconds before I can see things again. It feels... awful."

Kelly stretched out her hand, which had once been incredibly steady in drawing the bow, but now it was trembling slightly uncontrollably.

She glanced wearily at the weapons beside her, her voice filled with helplessness: "And my muscles, they won't obey me anymore. I used to be able to pull them to their maximum weight with ease."

"Now, my arms ache just from holding it up for a short while."

Her voice lowered, revealing worry for the first time on camera: "When the body doesn't get enough energy, it starts to eat itself; it's breaking down my muscle to get heat. It's autophagy, a fast track to exhaustion and death."

After uttering her last sentence, she seemed to have exhausted all her strength. She sat blankly in the snow, letting despair erode her reason.

Her thoughts began to wander, and hunger made her memories become confused. She recalled her history teacher at the community college teaching students about the traditional hunting methods of the Inuit.

They talked about how they used everything on the land, how they made knives from stone flakes, needles from animal bones, and fuel from seal fat.

They have a special hunting technique called a "spear," which greatly increases the distance and power of thrown weapons.

The word "spear thrower..." struck her confused mind like a lightning bolt piercing the night.

She sat up abruptly, a glimmer of light rekindling in her eyes.

"I was wrong... I was so wrong!" she said to the fixed camera not far away, her voice trembling slightly with emotion.

“I’ve always wanted to adapt this wooden arrow to my bow, but there are too many uncertainties! I should do the opposite and create a bow that suits this imperfect arrow!”

"The principle of a bow and arrow is energy storage and release, and so is that of a spear thrower! It uses the lever principle to extend the arm and increase the energy release distance!"

Once the idea took hold, it began to grow wildly.

She is no longer an archer abandoned by modern tools; she will use the oldest wisdom to solve the most modern dilemmas before her.

Kelly struggled to her feet and pulled the failed "arrow" from the snow. Her eyes were no longer filled with despair, but with focus and an almost fanatical desire to create.

Instead of looking for the grouse that had long since disappeared, he began carefully searching for suitable materials in the surrounding woodland.

She needs a stick about an arm's length long, strong enough, and preferably with a natural "hook" at the end.

After nearly an hour and almost exhausting all my strength, I finally found a perfect branch on a fallen, dead tree. It was the right thickness to hold, the material was hard, and most importantly, at its end, there was a small hook that had naturally formed upwards due to the breakage of a side branch—it was simply a match made in heaven.

She returned to her intricately designed A-shaped shelter, which was cold inside, like a beautiful ice cellar.

But she could no longer feel the cold; all her attention was focused on the "lifeline" in her hand.

She patiently polished the stick with a knife, carved anti-slip grooves in the grip area, and tidied the small hook at the end to make it more regular.

Then he took the homemade arrow and examined the broken arrowhead that was tied to the head. At the tail, he used the tip of his knife to carve a shallow hole that would just fit into the hook of the spear thrower.

This brand-new "weapon system" has only been completed, but it is full of unknowns.

She walked to a relatively open snowfield outside the shelter and continued to use the previous snowdrifts as targets.

Take a deep breath, wed the end of the wooden stick used as a "javelin" onto the hook of the spear thrower, lean back, and swing your arm forward with a sudden burst!

"Whoosh-"

The javelin flew out of his hand. The first attempt was far from perfect. Although its flight was still somewhat shaky, its accuracy was much better than his bow and arrow. Perhaps the throwing device was more suitable for the weight of this homemade arrow.

She retrieved the javelin and tried again, throwing, retrieving, and throwing it again and again, feeling the amazing sensation of power flowing from her body to her arm and then through the lever to the tip of the javelin.

The snow was covered with rows of footprints of varying depths and javelin holes, recording her entire journey from clumsiness to proficiency.

Kelly, panting heavily, finally managed a smile.

She now knew that the weapon's effective range was about ten to fifteen meters; beyond that, its accuracy dropped drastically. And its power was far greater than she had imagined!
Confidence had finally returned to her. Now, she placed all her hopes on this ancient tool.

Armed with this brand-new "weapon system"—a spear thrower and a wooden arrow serving as a "javelin"—he once again ventured into the perilous forest.

She understood that she had to find an opportunity before she ran out of energy.

Moreover, we can no longer pursue "long-range shooting" at a distance of ten meters or so as before; we must get close enough to use this primitive weapon to kill with a single blow.

Fortunately, dusk is the peak time for birds to feed for the last time before returning to their nests.

She lay in wait at the edge of an open area for a long time, so long that her hands and feet became numb again.

Just when she was about to give up, a snow-white rock ptarmigan appeared on the snow not far away, pecking at the tender buds under the snow.

The distance is about twenty meters, which is an excellent range for a bow and arrow. But with a javelin thrower, it's still too far and too risky.

Kelly didn't move; she was like a real stone, one with the land.

She controlled her breathing, suppressing her heart pounding wildly with excitement and hunger.

The thunderbird seemed oblivious to the danger, and slowly approached the direction where she was hiding.

Fifteen meters... twelve meters... ten meters!
It's now!

Kelly's movements were fluid and full of primal power! Without the slightest hesitation, she suddenly exerted force from her squatting position, leaned forward, swung her arms back, and flicked her wrists!
The wooden stick, used as a javelin, was launched as if by a slingshot with a low, whistling sound as it cut through the air, aided by the spear-throwing device!

"puff!"

A dull, reassuring thud rang out!

The wooden stick struck the Thunderbird's body with unstoppable force from a distance of ten meters!
The enormous impact knocked it to the ground, its wings flapped futilely twice, and then it fell silent.

It worked!
Kelly's nerves, stretched to their limit, snapped completely at that moment! Instead of immediately going forward to pick up the spoils, she collapsed on the spot like a lump of mud, gasping for breath in the cold air, tears streaming uncontrollably down her face.

Those were not tears of sorrow, but tears of ecstatic joy after surviving a catastrophe and crawling out of the abyss of despair!

She scrambled to the still-warm ptarmigan, her hands trembling as she cradled her hard-won prey in her arms as if it were the most precious treasure in the world.

Instead of rushing back to camp, what we need most right now is to replenish our energy immediately.

With her hunting knife, she skillfully cut open the Thunderbird's warm chest and abdomen, her fingers precisely probing inside, skirting the tiny ribs, and first finding the heart that was still trembling nervously.

It was only the size of a thumb, deep red, like a warm, life-giving crystal. Without hesitation, Kelly cut it off with the tip of her knife, then closed her eyes and put the whole thing in her mouth.

The warm, bloody taste and firm texture exploded between my teeth, and a pure, primal power surged into my throat instantly!
She could even feel the last warmth of the thunderbird's life being directly converted into her own heat. She didn't stop; her second target was the dark red, slippery liver.

This is the real treasure, a vitamin-rich energy block, the best antidote to prevent scurvy in this land of ice and snow. Unlike the firm heart, the liver is soft and slippery, with a stronger metallic odor.

The smell was enough to make any civilized person vomit on the spot, but Kelly's body was greedily cheering!
Of course, it was not delicious at all, and even a little disgusting. As the heart and liver slid down her esophagus into her stomach, the heat and nutrients, like two warm currents, were simultaneously injected into her nearly depleted body.

The burning sensation in my stomach was slightly soothed, the dizziness in my brain began to subside, and a long-lost feeling of fullness and warmth began to spread through my body.

She leaned against a tree, chewing very slowly, releasing every bit of energy and savoring the taste of life!
Kelly knew she had survived, thanks to ancient wisdom.

After a short rest, she tightly hung the hard-won thunderbird around her waist and, with weary but hopeful steps, headed toward the shelter.

She didn't venture into the complex forest where she needed to be constantly vigilant. Now that she had finished her hunt, she no longer needed to bother observing footprints or searching for animal tracks; she just wanted to return as quickly as possible.

Therefore, she chose to proceed along the edge of the fixed ice along the coastline, where it was relatively flat and open, allowing her to move at a faster speed and conserve more energy.

The afterglow of the setting sun dyed everything in a poignant crimson hue, and the shadows of the floating ice were stretched long, casting menacing outlines on the sea.

Just then, her gaze was drawn to a black object that was gently rising and falling with the waves at the point where ice and water met in the distance.

In this monotonous world of white and blue, that pure black stands out starkly.

"What is it?" Kelly's heart jumped! Her first thought was a live seal.

She immediately crouched down, hiding herself behind a raised ice ridge, her heart pounding uncontrollably! If it were a live seal, in her current state and with her weapons, there was no way she could hunt it down; she had to think of another way!

But she dismissed the thought after only a few seconds.

The black object remained motionless, without the seal's signature head-raising breathing motion, simply rising and falling gently with the waves.

Kelly's breathing quickened as she peeked out from behind the ice ridge, squinting and using her excellent eyesight to observe carefully.

In the sidelight of the setting sun, she could see the iconic ring-shaped spots on it, like ink spreading out. It was stuck between a newly formed shore ice and the open sea, half submerged in the water and half draped on the ice, like an abandoned, heavy carpet.

In the end, Kelly covered her mouth with her hand to keep from screaming!
"My God...that's a seal skin!"

Her mind raced; this couldn't have fallen off naturally. The only explanation was that, not long ago, a predator—likely a polar bear—had enjoyed a meal nearby and then discarded this piece of skin, which was of little value to it.

This is because bears will prioritize eating the energy-rich fat layer beneath their skin, while tearing off and discarding the skin itself.

A surge of immense joy, like an electric current, instantly pierced through her exhaustion and chill! This was undoubtedly a tremendous reward from Lady Luck for her indomitable will!
But she wasn't blinded by elation. She immediately forced herself to calm down and swallowed back the cheers that were about to burst from her throat.

They began to look around warily, their eyes scanning every ice floe and distant snowdrift like radar, carefully discerning any milky-white figures that might not fit the outline of the snowdrifts and could indicate danger.

Polar bears have an extremely sensitive sense of smell; they can smell blood from kilometers away and may return at any time to check their "storage room" by following the scent.

After confirming that the surrounding area was temporarily safe, she focused all her attention on the immediate problem: how to safely retrieve it.

The location of that piece of skin was very delicate; the layer of newly formed shore ice that it was covered over at night looked as thin as glass, and you could even see the dark green seawater below through the ice.

This layer of ice is absolutely unable to support her weight. If she approaches rashly, and the ice breaks, she will fall into the sub-zero seawater and die from hypothermia within minutes!
Hope was within reach, but death was also just a step away.

Kelly suppressed her urgency and began searching for tools nearby, her gaze sweeping from the cold coastline to the edge of the land behind her.

Not far from the shore, in an area exposed by the wind, there was a dead tree lying there, with several long branches that were not short.

Kelly was overjoyed. She walked over quickly and, with all her might, broke off a three-meter-long dead branch from the main trunk.

She dragged the life-saving deadwood to the edge of the ice, lay down again, and moved forward in a standard crawling posture, distributing her body weight as much as possible on the solid ice surface.

As she drew ever closer to the newly formed shore, she finally reached a length within reach of the driftwood. She carefully extended the driftwood, attempting to hook or pry the seal skin with the tip of the stick.

This is a task that demands immense patience and skill. The fat layer under the seal's skin becomes as slippery as if it were coated with oil in the icy seawater, and the smooth, deadwood slipped weakly off the skin several times.

Waves surged in, gently propelling the seal skin, sometimes drawing closer, sometimes drifting further away. Each time it receded, her heart clenched tighter.

She dared not exert too much force, fearing the ice beneath her might break. Each attempt drained her already weakened body of precious energy.

After several failures, she finally seized the opportunity when a wave lifted a corner of the skin during one attempt and successfully used the end of the dead wood to lift it all onto the newly formed dark ice!

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(End of this chapter)