King of the Wilderness

But at that time, hunger had already made her lose patience. She looked at that arrow that wobbled but ultimately landed into the snowbank and forcibly convinced herself.

”It’s okay, I know its trajectory veers to the left, and I know it sinks after ten meters. As long as I account for these variables, with my skills, I can still hit the target!”

She overly trusted her own meticulously honed archery skills, believing she could rely on her experience to control this imperfect tool.

So, armed with this fatal confidence, she began today’s hunt.

As a result, reality slapped her twice across the face, as with the first three targets today, the arrow missed by a hair’s breadth every time.

Her professional skills, all her pride and reliance, in this primitive wilderness, due to a small, irreplaceable feathered arrow, became worthless.

Hunger felt like a palpable demon, relentlessly squeezing her stomach.

She couldn’t remember when her last decent meal was; it felt like something from last century.

For the past two days, she had been enduring by gnawing at the inner bark of birch trees and drinking pine needle tea to maintain a sense of fullness.

She used a knife, painstakingly scraping away the paper-thin outer bark of the birch tree, revealing the slippery inner layer, a light yellow cambium.

She put this layer into her mouth to chew, carrying a faint sweetness, but mostly an unbearable woody astringency that filled her mouth. She forced herself to swallow, imagining it as some kind of ”creative cuisine” in a high-end restaurant.

Kelly showed a small piece of freshly scraped wet birch inner bark to the camera, her face wearing a numb smile.

”Look at this, the survival manual says this stuff can save lives. Ha, it’s a liar.”

”It can only deceive your mouth, giving you a bit of false sweetness, but can never, ever fill your empty stomach.”

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

She pointed to her temple, ”Now as long as I stand up quickly, everything turns pitch black, the entire world becomes a gray, buzzing static, and I have to hold onto a tree and wait several seconds to see clearly again. This feeling... is awful.”

Kelly extended the hand that once drew the bow with unparalleled steadiness, now uncontrollably trembling slightly.

She looked exhaustedly at the weapon beside her, her voice full of powerlessness: ”And my muscles, they’re not obeying me anymore. I used to easily pull it to its maximum poundage.”

”Now, just holding it up for a while makes my arm feel sore.”

Her voice lowered, for the first time showing concern in front of the camera, ”It’s when the body doesn’t receive energy, it starts eating itself; it’s decomposing my muscles to gain heat. It’s a kind of autophagy, a fast track to exhaustion and death...”

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

Her thoughts began to drift; hunger made her memory chaotic as she thought of the community college history teacher discussing the Inuit people’s traditional hunting methods in class.

Talking about how they utilized everything from the land, how they used stone shards as knives, animal bones as needles, and seal fat as fuel.

Discussing a special hunting technique they had, involving a ”spear thrower,” which greatly increased the distance and power of throwing weapons.

”Spear thrower...” The word hit her chaotic mind like lightning breaking through the night.

She suddenly sat up straight, a glimmer of light reigniting in her eyes.

”I was wrong... I was completely wrong!” She spoke to the fixed camera not far away, her voice trembling with excitement.

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

”The principle of a bow is energy storage and release, so is the spear thrower! It uses the principle of leverage to extend the arm and increase the span of energy release!”

Once this idea formed, it started to grow wildly.

No longer was she an archer abandoned by modern tools; she would use the oldest wisdom to solve the most modern predicament.

Kelly struggled to stand, pulled that failed ”arrow” from the snow, her gaze now was no longer of despair, but filled with focus and an almost fervent desire to create.

She didn’t bother to look at the long-disappeared grouse, but began carefully searching the surrounding woodland for suitable materials.

She needed a stick about the length of an arm, robust enough, preferably with a natural ”hook” at the end.

After nearly an hour and nearly exhausting all her strength, she finally found a perfect branch on a fallen dead tree.

It was the right thickness, hard texture, and most importantly, at its end, a natural upward hook formed after a side branch broke—a perfect natural catch.

She returned to her cleverly constructed A-frame shelter, inside was cold like a beautiful ice cellar.

But she no longer felt the cold; all her mind was devoted to this ”lifeline” in her hands.

She patiently smoothed the stick with a knife, carving anti-skid grooves where it was held, and trimmed the small hook at the end more neatly.