After clearing a small space, she placed the dug-up sunroot yams—three tubers—on the ground. Then she straightened, dusted her hands off, and walked forward again. This time, she went farther, though she was still safely within the zone of the blue-fern plants.
Even as she moved, her eyes scanned every patch of shadow, every rustle of leaves. The predator from earlier still lingered in her mind, and she wasn't about to let anything sneak up on her twice.
Finally, she spotted something ahead—tall, branching, familiar. A tree. She squinted, stepped closer, and her pace quickened when recognition clicked.
A mulberry tree.
Weirdly relieved, she approached and began plucking the clusters of dark berries. She didn't take much—just two small bunches—before jogging back to where she'd set the yams. She placed the mulberries beside them, nodded once, and headed out again to look for more ingredients.
Not long after, she found a low patch of leafy greens. The moment her finger landed on them, knowledge bloomed automatically in her mind—edible, nutritious, mild taste. Her plant affinity was doing most of the heavy lifting, and she wasn't complaining.
She gathered a handful and continued searching.
She walked, and walked, and walked—careful steps, eyes sharp—until another tree came into view. It wasn't a fruit tree, exactly, but something about it tugged at her memory. She frowned, trying to recall the strange pod-shaped fruits she'd seen before.
Instead of straining her brain, she simply reached out and placed her hand against the bark.
Instantly, information flowed into her thoughts.
[Tamarind — edible. High in minerals. Mildly sour. Aids digestion.]
"Tamarind… okay, that I can work with."
She walked back with her arms full of tamarinds and stopped where she'd piled everything she'd foraged earlier. One look at the little mountain of food made her sigh. There was no way she was carrying all of that to the cave in one trip—not when her legs already felt like soggy noodles.
So she exhaled sharply and summoned her tote bag onto the ground beside her.
The familiar fabric appeared, and for a second, she just stared at it. Inside were her purse, her phone, her makeup pouch, her card holder, and her jotter—all useless now, but still pieces of home. Her lips pulled tight as she reached in, took them out, and tucked it into the inner zipped compartment. She didn't need it getting crushed by yams.
Then she stuffed in the sunroot yams, mulberries, the tied bundle of greens, and finally the tamarinds. She lifted the bag and slung it over her shoulder. The weight nearly dragged her down, but after adjusting her stance, she got used to it and trudged back toward the cave.
Halfway there, the system piped up in her head, its tone annoyingly smug.
'I remember someone saying earlier that they wouldn't use their expensive tote bag to carry—what was it again?—vegetables. I wonder what changed. Host, can you tell me?'
"I don't remember," she muttered tiredly as she reached the cave.
The system made a laughing sound and Lavayla ignored it.
She crouched, ducked inside, and slid the tote bag close to the entrance where she could sort it later. The cave was dim and quiet, the air cooler than outside. She walked deeper until she reached the innermost area.
The baby lay where she'd set him earlier, wrapped in the soft cloth she'd placed around him. His little chest rose and fell steadily, his tiny fingers twitching now and then.
Lavayla stopped beside him and crouched, her breath easing a little. She checked his forehead, his cheeks, his hands—just to be sure he was still warm and comfortable.
"Still okay," she whispered, more to reassure herself than anything.
The baby let out a soft, sleepy sigh.
Lavayla sat back on her heels, exhaling slowly.
"Good. At least one of us is having a peaceful day."
She stood up and went back to the cave entrance. She bent down and pulled everything out of the tote bag, arranging the ingredients on the ground. She wasn't sure what to do first—wash the plants, check the tuber again, try to figure out where to start—when the system suddenly chimed in.
'I think you should harvest the… beast core first. Before you start to cook.'
Lavayla's brows scrunched together.
"The beast core? Right now? I don't think I can do that yet. I barely survived killing the thing, and if I start cutting it open in here, I'll get blood everywhere. And all over my hands."
She paused. A louder realization hit her like a slap.
"Wait. There's no water. None. What water am I supposed to use?"
'Well, don't worry about that, host! Since there is no water around the vicinity or anywhere in this forest, the system can provide limited assistance. You may purchase what you need from the mall. For example—water. It will be priced according to how much you want.'
She stared at the air in front of her as if she could glare directly at the system.
"Really? Then how much would a litre of water be?"
'It would be 100 points, host~!'
Lavayla frowned.
"…One hundred? For just one litre? Is this water hand-squeezed from the tears of angels or what?"
'Host, it is purified, sterilized, detoxified, and freshly processed elemental water from a system-regulated source. Of course it's expensive~'
Lavayla dragged a hand down her face.
"I don't need your 'purified, sterilized, detoxified, freshly processed elemental water.' Just give me drinkable water that's not harmful."
'Huhh… really? Are you sure, host? That would be 20 points.'
She stared at the ingredients she'd gathered—the sunroot yams, the greens, the mulberries, the tamarinds—then glanced toward the baby sleeping deeper inside the cave. Cooking wasn't optional anymore. And she couldn't do anything, not even clean her hands, without at least a little water.
"Yes," she muttered. "Give me two gallons."
'Purchase confirmed~! 150 points deducted from your total.'
A sealed plastic container materialized beside her foot, cool to the touch. She picked it up carefully, feeling the weight of the water inside.
"Alright," she sighed, "that solves one problem."
'And for the beast core, host—'
She cut it off immediately.
"No. Not yet. I'm not butchering anything until after I figure out food, feed the baby, and maybe rest for a while. One thing at a time."
The system fell silent for once.
Lavayla dropped into a squat, looked at her small pile of forest ingredients, and exhaled through her nose.
"Now… what the hell am I supposed to cook with all this?"
Her stomach growled again, loudly enough to echo off the cave walls.
Great. Perfect timing.
She rubbed her face with both hands and looked again at the ingredients: three warm sunroot yams, a handful of greens, two mulberry clusters, and a pile of tamarinds. Not exactly a feast, but starving wasn't an option.
"System," she muttered, "I can't exactly roast a whole yam on bare stone."
'Correction, host. You can. It simply won't taste good.'
"Thank you for your useless contribution."
'You're welcome~'
Lavayla sighed. She thought back to the stories she'd read—characters stranded in forests, surviving with nothing but sticks and twigs and blind optimism. She wasn't those characters. But she wasn't hopeless either.
"Okay… think." She picked up a sunroot, feeling its warmth. "I can't boil it. I don't have a fire. Which means… heat. I need heat."
Her eyes swept the cave until they landed on a smooth, round stone near the entrance. Fire wasn't an option; she had no lighter, no flint.
But… she could steam.
A memory flickered—something she'd read in a random survival story she couldn't fully remember. Cooking food in leaves using heated stones.
"System," she said slowly, "if I heat stones in direct sunlight, they'll stay hot for a while, right?"
'Yes! Especially the dense ones. They retain heat longer.'
"And if I wrap the yam slices in big leaves… seal them… and put them around the hot stones… that should steam them a bit, right?"
'It is primitive but effective. Host is finally using her head~!'
She ignored that, got up, brushed off her knees, and stepped outside the cave. The sun was bright—perfect. She searched the area for flat stones, eventually collecting nine and placing them directly under the sunlight to heat.
When she stood, her gaze drifted, catching a glimpse of broad, smooth leaves on a tall plant a bit far from the cave entrance. Perfect for wrapping food.
She cut several of the broad leaves using her small dagger. They sliced easier than she expected. She carried the stack back into the cave, washed the inner part, laying them neatly to one side.
Now she needed something to prepare the yams on.
She went out again, searching until she found a flat, wide stone—rounded and smooth. She hauled it in, scrubbed it clean, and placed it beside the ingredients.
She grabbed the dagger-like knife and began peeling the yam skins. After peeling, she sliced the tubers thinly, spread the slices on the broad leaves, wrapped them tight, and tied the bundles using rope-like vines she'd grabbed from the cave entrance.
"Alright," she breathed, "that's one thing done."
She stepped outside again and dug a pit—shallow but wide. She retrieved the stones she'd been heating in the sun earlier, then carefully dropped them into the pit. The air hissed faintly around them. She placed the wrapped yam bundles on top, added more hot stones over them, then covered everything with soil.
She dusted her hands off, feeling oddly proud.
Back inside, she gripped one of the mulberries, rinsed it, and popped it into her mouth. After eating about ten, she grabbed the tamarinds, cracked them open, and scraped out the sticky pulp. She tossed the mulberries into the mix and mashed everything together using a smooth stone.
A tart, sweet, weird-smelling paste formed—edible enough.
Sighing heavily, Lavayla reached for the tote bag to dust the dirt off when something clattered to the floor… and then she froze.
A lighter.
A literal lighter sitting right there.
Her eyes twitched.
She had suffered through heating rocks… when she had a lighter.
"System," she said slowly, "how do I make a fire with this? Properly. Like… something I can put a pot on."
'Oh! Host can create a small cooking station. Gather dry twigs, branches, and stones to form a stable frame. Ignite kindling with the lighter. Simple!'
Lavayla stepped out of the cave again, squinting as the sunlight slapped her across the face.
She scanned the ground first. A carpet of dried leaves, broken brown stems, and scattered twigs lay everywhere. She crouched and sifted through them with both hands, picking out the brittle, snap-clean twigs she remembered being called "kindling" in one of those survival novels. Each twig cracked satisfyingly between her fingers—good, dry, and perfect for catching a spark.
Next, she searched for thicker branches. Some lay half-buried under the leaf litter, so she used her foot and the edge of her makeshift dagger to pry them free. They were rough, uneven, and heavier than she expected, but they'd burn longer and stabilize the fire. She gathered an armful, cradling them awkwardly against her chest.
Finally, she needed stones—solid, heavy ones that wouldn't crack in heat. Her gaze wandered until she spotted exactly what she needed near a cluster of tree roots: two squat, flat-topped stones. Perfect for holding a pot.
She dropped the branches and crouched, sliding her fingers underneath the first stone.
It didn't budge.
Lavayla gritted her teeth, shifted her weight, and lifted again. The stone finally came loose with a deep thunk, almost pulling her off balance. She grabbed the second stone more carefully, heaving it up with both hands before hugging it to her chest.
By the time she returned to the cave, she was breathing hard, hair stuck to her forehead, arms aching.
Inside, she set the stones down first, arranging them in front of her carefully—two squat pillars with a narrow gap between them. Just wide enough for a small fire beneath, just sturdy enough for a pot to balance on top.
Then she knelt and built the fire bed.
First, she laid a small pile of dry leaves. Then she added the thin twigs, crossing them loosely so air could slip between them. Next came the thicker branches, angled together like the ribs of a tiny wooden hut.
It wasn't pretty. But it looked… fire-ish.
She wiped her hands on her knees, pulled out the lighter, and hesitated a moment.
"Please," she whispered to the tiny metal cube, "don't embarrass me."
She flicked it.
A bright flame jumped to life with a click, catching the edge of a leaf. The leaf curled inward almost instantly, orange licking across its surface. The twigs caught next—sharp snaps and hisses as fire chewed through them. The thicker branches blackened, then glowed faint red at their edges.
"Finally."
She opened the system mall and purchased a pot, a bowl, and a spoon—more points gone, but her sanity was worth it.
Once the pot was on the fire, she scraped the mashed tamarind-mulberry paste into it, added some water, and stirred until it loosened into a bubbling mix.
A thought hit her mid-stir.
The yams.
Lavayla ran outside, dug up the pit, and unwrapped the leaf bundles. Steam burst upward, carrying a nutty, earthy smell. The slices were soft—soft enough to mash.
She dumped them into the pot and stirred everything together until it combined into a thick, purple-tinted porridge.
She stared down at it, hair sticking to her sweaty forehead, soot on her cheeks, and hands shaking from exhaustion.
"…If this tastes horrible," she muttered, "I'm blaming the system."
'Host, statistically, it should be edible~'
Lavayla smiled wryly. "Well, even if it doesn't taste good, at least it'll be edible."
She couldn't help the tiny swell of pride in her chest.
For someone with zero survival skills, one dagger, a lighter she forgot existed, and a baby to feed, this was… honestly impressive.