FREE USE in Primitive World

Chapter 53: Chapter 53: Sneaking Out

He would set up a stall. He would accept payment in the form of raw ingredients. You want a bowl of this heavenly, life-changing soup? Bring me that ugly tuber you dug up. Bring me the bones you stripped the meat off. Bring me the intestines you don’t know how to clean. Bring me the tough neck meat you can’t chew.

“It solves everything,” Sol grinned, rubbing his hands together. “I feed my family for free. I get unlimited supplies for the stall. And most importantly… I become the most popular man among the women.”

“It’s a perfect loop,” Sol grinned. “I turn their garbage into their addiction.”

The plan crystallized in his mind.

He stood up, excitedly, dusting off his hands. The logistics were solid. But there was one final piece missing. The soul of the dish.

Flavor.

He could make do with some of the aromatic herbs collected by Arelia to kill the gamey smell, but to truly hook them… to make them crave his soup like a drug… he needed a kick. He needed something that released endorphins.

He needed the one thing the tribe feared.

“Chili,” he whispered reverently.

He remembered the “Fire-Devil’s Droppings.” The tribe thought it was poison because it burned. Sol knew it was just capsaicin, the chemical of the gods. If he could introduce that heat in a controlled, savory way… they wouldn’t know what hit them.

Because he knew the power of the pepper. It stimulated the appetite, it made the body sweat (which was oddly cooling in the jungle heat), and it was addictive. Once you got used to the spice, bland food became unbearable.

“I need those peppers at all costs.”

He accessed the chaotic jumble of his predecessor’s memories. He remembered seeing a bush with bright red, curved berries. Which tribe avoided like a plague.

Thankfully, the plant wasn’t far from the tribe. He recalled the location…a thorny patch near the southwest perimeter, close to a secluded, overgrown path that the hunters rarely used because nothing edible grew there.

“Time to go shopping.”

Without wasting much time, he grabbed a small empty sack and hurried toward a secluded road he recalled from his memories. He knew that the main gate was guarded, and they might stop him, asking why an invalid was leaving the safety zone. But there was a secret passage…a small gap in the natural rock wall that the kids used to use for hide-and-seek.

The passage was small, overgrown with thorns, but still manageable.

He moved casually, keeping to the shadows, avoiding eye contact with the few villagers still lingering about.

He reached the dead end. A massive pile of boulders blocked the path, overgrown with thick, scratching vines. To anyone else, it was a wall. To Sol, it was a door.

He pushed aside a heavy curtain of thorny vines, revealing a small, jagged hole near the ground.

“Here goes nothing,” he muttered.

He crouched down, checking for snakes or spiders. Finding none, he took a deep breath and got in, legs first. It was a bit too tight, the rough stone scraping his hips.

It was claustrophobic. The rough stone scraped against his skin, and the smell of damp earth filled his nose. For a second, he got stuck at the shoulders, panic flaring in his chest.

“Note to self: getting stronger also means getting broader,” he grunted, struggling to shimmy through.

He held his breath, sucked in his stomach, and with a final, undignified shove, he popped out the other side, tumbling onto soft grass.

He scrambled up, dusting himself off, and finally had a good look at the world outside for the first time.

His breath caught in his throat.

“Whoa.”

He was standing on the edge of a vast, primitive plain.

It was a world of green… an ocean of tall, swaying grass that stretched as far as his eyes could see, rippling in the wind like water. In the distance, a colossal jungle rose up like a dark green wall, the trees so massive their canopies seemed to brush the clouds. This must be the place where the villagers went to forage, the edge of the true wilderness.

Looking up, the sky was a piercing, impossible blue, vast and unbroken by smog or contrails, with only a few fluffy clouds drifting lazily.

It was populated by strange, four-winged birds that circled lazily on the thermals, their cries echoing like distant flutes. The scale of it all was humbling. Everything here was bigger, wilder, more vibrant than the world he had left behind.

“This is heaven,” Sol muttered, his lungs expanding to take in the incredibly fresh air, rich with the scent of crushed grass and blooming wildflowers.

He felt small, but also exhilarated. This was the world outside the cage. This was where the monsters lived, yes, but it was also where the power lay.

“Okay, focus,” he told himself, shaking off the awe. “Southwest. Find the spicy bush. Don’t get eaten.”

Following the path in his memories, he began to move through the tall grass,his new ash-gray enhanced eyes scanning every shadow, every rustle. The hunters cleared the area near the tribe regularly, so it should be safe, but Sol knew better than to trust “should” in a world where the rabbits had six ears.

He moved through the tall grass like a ghost… or at least, what he hoped was a ghost. In reality, he was a sweaty, paranoid mess crouched low to the ground.

His new Ash Gray senses were a double-edged sword. The moment he stepped into the tall grass, the volume of reality cranked up to a deafening eleven. The buzzing of insects sounded like power drills. The scent of blooming flowers was so thick it tasted like perfume on his tongue.

Sure, he could hear a beetle fart from ten yards away, but that also meant every rustle of a leaf sounded like a footstep; every snap of a twig sounded like a gunshot. He crept forward, his eyes darting around like a nervous prey animal. There was no “protagonist swagger” here. Because life was most important.