CHAPTER 30

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With each new passing second of thinking about the consequences, the clouds only thickened over the lad's head, and the situation was painted in the darkest and dullest colors, not boding anything well.

Having figuratively put a stop to his reflections, Isaia began to dig one large, but deep hole with only one reliable conclusion. The conclusion was that he had to rely only on himself to get rid of the evidence.

The lack of any equipment made the whole process overly time consuming. He had only knives at hand, and, taking the longest and widest, he began to stab at the ground, so that it would loosen and be easily removed. The whole thing looked rather ridiculous and clumsy, but there was no other way out.

The alternative was to dig doggy-style with his hands, though they had to be used when the soil became soft and easily transportable.

It took two hours just to create a one and a half meter hole. It was wrong to do everything too superficially, in case some beast decided to dig up and let all the labors of the young man go to the wind, but there was no sense in going too deep, though it was more about willingness.

Not only was his physical strength wasted, but with each passing second, he was becoming even more unattractive in his already ragged ragamuffin image.

Having thrown the corpses to the bottom of the pit and stacked them quite compactly, he began the final procedure, which did not exceed ten minutes of rhythmic and hurried work for the speedy conclusion of the affair.

Washing the mud off himself for thirty diligent minutes in the nearest body of water, Isaia was surprised and frustrated at the amount of wasted energy at the unexpected and thankless task he had been engaged in for the past three hours.

By this time the sun was setting in, but he didn't care, as the lack of light didn't interfere with his hunting.

Of course, he had no right to talk about his personal achievements, because only the presence of a magical skill that had come out of nowhere allowed him to sense forest life at night, and thus to hunt successfully.

There was neither patience nor desire to put up with it and wait for the new day to come to get on his hunting spree. On the one hand, the need to get rid of annoying physical sensations, on the other hand, the desire to quickly return to the proper combat performance, no longer being at the bottom of the food chain.

After all, even a trio of wolves now posed a sufficient threat to Isaia's existence. Especially since the future was very vague and unpredictable, and nothing prevented today's events from repeating themselves, but with much more serious developments and less desirable consequences.

Another, less obvious reason was that he liked the feeling of power that a full supply of stamina offered. Having the ability to pose a threat to all living things was enticing and tempting, and on the contrary, every time he went to the bottom of his energy reserves, he felt a certain uselessness and insulting pity for his own person.

Isaia was already an overly proud individual, and now such a dangerous skill had arisen out of nowhere that could decide a person's fate in an instant, adding oil of conceit to the wildfire of arrogance that had already spread inside young man's head.

He had originally wanted to make his own clothes, deciding that it would be easier to learn on his own and forever forget the need to seek help from others in such matters. It was also very dangerous to go out into the open plains, especially since he had no rush as such.

He had already resigned himself to the fact that he might have to spend several months in this wilderness, which made it seem a sensible idea. At other times such idea would have seemed utterly delusional and absurd, namely to sit down and start sewing clothes for oneself.

But he considered the idea a matter of pride, for if others could do it, he was no worse than they were. He had no idea how difficult it was to make his own clothes by himself. 

As he began the task, Isaia instantly realized that it only looked so easy from the outside, and that skinning an animal was an overwhelming task for him. And it's only the very first step, also one of the easiest when it comes to tailoring.

The sight of boar carcasses reminded of an abuse, as if someone was excessively angry with the animals and took out all his accumulated grievances on them.

Seeing that there was no way to make something good, he changed his mind and gave up trying to make the garment himself. At the same time, he lost all respect for some authors, having personally gained first-hand knowledge.

These writers fooled their readers and hung noodles on their ears. Isaia had repeatedly read how the heroes of the stories had to make their own garments out of skins without access to the amenities of civilization, hence his belief that he was just as good and could do the process himself in a week or two. How wrong he was to trust these woeful scribblers and act on their narratives.