George's confusion deepened at Ava's incredulous response. Did she not like how he had prepared the meat, or did she prefer it whole and uncut? He couldn't shake off his disappointment, having put considerable effort into meticulously slicing the meat with his claws. Perhaps she preferred it raw and untouched—that must be it.
"Ava, what do you mean? Do you not like how I've prepared the meat, or would you prefer whole uncut chunks of meat?" George asked, eager to correct any mistake he may have made.
Ava's mind raced as she processed George's question. Whole and uncut? Raw chunks of meat? Did he really expect her to eat it like that? Suddenly, a memory from her past flashed before her eyes, reminding her that this was indeed how everyone, including her past self, consumed meat. No wonder they suffered from frequent bouts of illness.
With a smile, Ava replied, "It's not that I don't like it. It's just that I don't eat raw meat. It has to be cooked first before I can eat it."
George tilted his head to the side, repeating the word "cook" as if it were foreign to him.
Annoyed by his lack of understanding, Ava decided to explain further. "Cooking is when you use fire to slightly burn a food item," she elaborated. "It's important because it helps prevent sickness, like diarrhea. Simply put, if I eat raw meat, I'll fall sick and die," she concluded bluntly.
At the mention of the word "die," George was startled into action. He rose abruptly and began to walk out with the wooden board containing the meat. Ava instinctively grabbed onto his skirt, her concern evident.
"What are you going to do?" she inquired urgently.
"I'm throwing these away," George replied matter-of-factly.
"No, that's a waste of food. An animal sacrificed its life for us to get this meat. Please don't waste it," Ava implored, her voice tinged with desperation.
George's resolve remained firm. "If eating meat will make you die, then don't eat meat. I will go and find plant fruit for you. As for the meat, I'll eat it myself. It won't harm me."
Determined to carry out his plan, George was ready to act swiftly, knowing that evening was approaching and time was of the essence. But Ava had other ideas.
"How about we make a fire to cook the meat?" she suggested.
George's expression clouded with worry. "Fire is dangerous. It can destroy the forest."
"Fire, when properly watched over, won't be dangerous like that. Just trust me, please," Ava pleaded, her big, soulful eyes brimming with sincerity.
Unable to resist her earnest plea and blinding cuteness, George relented. Ava then explained the necessary steps to start a fire and described the materials they would need. After a while, George had everything prepared and brought Ava outside.
Surveying the cleared spot not far from the treehouse, Ava saw that George had meticulously followed her instructions. There were two stones that could be used as sitting stools, sharpened sticks, dried grass, hay-like leaves, finely shaved wood shavings, and small-sized rocks arranged in a circle. Ava instructed George to make a small hole on a dry, slim piece of wood and insert the sharpened end of the stick into the hole, spinning it as fast as he could. As George spun the stick, Ava added the fine wood shavings to the spinning end and gently blew on it, creating smoke and eventually small flames.
George, apprehensive at first, stopped spinning when he saw the flames emerge. Ava, undeterred, reached out to pick up the wooden flame but was stopped by George's firm grip. With determination, she held his shoulder, looked him squarely in the eyes, and whispered, "Trust me." His grip loosened, allowing her to gently place the tiny burning flame at the center of the circular stone arrangement, adding more wood shavings and blowing gently to fuel the fire.
As the flames grew, Ava added more dry leaves and stacked dried wood on top, from smallest to largest. Stepping back, she admired her handiwork with pride. Her camp training had not been in vain. With newfound happiness, she announced, "Let the roasting of meat begin."
With the fire crackling merrily before them, Ava and George set about preparing the meat for roasting. Ava carefully skewered the slices of raw meat onto sharpened sticks, arranging them over the flames with practiced precision. George watched attentively, intrigued by Ava's expertise in handling the food.
As the meat sizzled and browned over the open flames, filling the air with a tantalizing aroma, Ava periodically turned the skewers to ensure even cooking. George, meanwhile, fetched fresh water from a nearby stream, filling a hollowed-out gourd to quench their thirst, by now it was already nighttime.
As they waited for the meat to cook, George observed Ava's deft movements with the skewers, carefully turning the slices of meat over the flames. Inspired by her skill, he decided to give it a try himself. With Ava's guidance, he skewered a slice of meat, mimicking her actions as closely as possible.
Despite his initial clumsiness, George soon got the hang of it, his confidence growing with each successful turn of the skewer. As they worked together, laughter bubbled between them, filling the air with a sense of camaraderie and joy.
Finally, when the meat was cooked to perfection, Ava and George eagerly tasted their culinary creation. The savory flavor of the UNSALTED roasted meat danced on their tongues, satisfying their hunger and filling them with a sense of contentment.
As they savored their meal together, Ava couldn't help but feel grateful for George's willingness to trust her and embrace the unfamiliar concept of cooking. And George, in turn, marveled at Ava's resourcefulness and resilience in adapting her surroundings.
Under the canopy of stars, with the fire casting flickering shadows around them, Ava and George shared a moment of quiet gratitude, grateful for each other's company in the vast wilderness.
Hidden deep within the convoluted tunnels, far removed from the watchful gaze of the tribe, lay an expansive and ancient cavern. Within its shadows dwelled a fearsome creature, a massive blue snake whose mere presence inspired dread in those who dared to draw near. With its scales shimmering faintly in the subdued light and its eyes gleaming with a fierce intensity, the snake slithered into its lair, only to be greeted by a scene of utter chaos and ruin. Fury surged through the snake as it beheld the wreckage strewn about its domain. Its cherished possessions lay strewn and shattered, but the true sting came with the realization that its most prized possession, a radiant crystal orb of power, had been stolen away. The snake's heart boiled with rage at the audacity of the thief who had dared to defile its lair and rob it of its most precious treasure.
With a savage hiss of fury, the snake lashed out in a frenzied rampage, its colossal coils thrashing and smashing everything in their path. Amidst the turmoil, however, the creature's keen senses detected a familiar scent – the unmistakable tang of blood. With a flick of its forked tongue, the snake tasted the dried blood, its senses sharpening as it committed the scent to memory. But there was something else intertwined with the scent, something unexpected – the delicate fragrance of a female.
Driven by a burning desire for retribution, the snake emerged from its cavernous lair, its sinuous form weaving effortlessly through the labyrinthine tunnels with deadly precision. With each passing moment, the scent of blood and female lingered in the air, guiding the serpent ever closer to its elusive quarry.
Emerging from the tunnels into the moonlit night, the snake cast its gaze across the river and the vast expanse of wilderness beyond. With an instinctual urge propelling it forward, the creature embarked on a relentless pursuit, its senses honed to perfection as it sought out the faintest trace of its prey's scent.
Through dense forests and treacherous terrain, the snake pursued its quarry with unwavering determination. Though the trail of blood grew fainter with each passing mile, the snake pressed on undeterred, its singular focus fixed on reclaiming what had been unjustly taken from it.
Arriving at the outskirts of the tree tribe, the snake slithered towards a towering tree, its senses heightened with anticipation as it closed in on its target. Yet, as it drew nearer, the scent of blood began to diminish, replaced by the lingering fragrance of a female. This must be where she resides, the snake surmised, though it sensed she was not alone. With caution in its movements, the snake paused to assess the situation, its keen gaze sweeping over the surroundings.
Beneath the moon's serene glow, the snake chose to bide its time, retreating into the shadows of the wilderness to await the opportune moment to confront the thief who had encroached upon its domain. Concealed within the dense vegetation, the creature remained perfectly still, its form obscured from prying eyes as it patiently waited for dawn to break and the right moment to reveal itself. With every coil of its sinew, the snake remained poised for action, its resolve unyielding as it prepared to reclaim what rightfully belonged to it.