There was a loud popping sound followed by intense sizzling from the flat rock at the campfire.
Dinner was ready.
With two pieces of fragmented bone Ashwin lifted the flat rock out of the coal bed and used two sharp bone fragments as chopsticks.
Pecking at the fillets of fish with his improvised chopsticks Ashwin ate the sizzling hot fish slowly and one by one, savoring every bite.
“Meh” He thought.
“It would be better with some butter, lemon and garlic.”
Still, he was happy for the meat, fish was more substantial than fruit.
Afterward he climbed the baobab tree for another fruit pod, cracking it open and drinking the water inside.
The greasy fish had made him thirsty.
Returning to the campfire Ashwin decided to unhook his whip.
He pulled on the tail of the slippery half hitch, and the tension knot came undone.
Ashwin checked the filament tip of the whip.
It had suffered no damage.
“You’re tough, just like me”
Ashwin was relieved, now he could get in some practice with the whip.
He let the tip go and the whole filament drifted upward and curled around him like living smoke.
The mainline of the whip floated, its movements were swift, and the whip could detect the movement and direction of Ashwin’s wrist like it was alive.
Ashwins simple left to right motion generated an S like pattern that the filament end followed effortlessly.
Two loud cracks rang out on each side of Ashwin and echoed out over the lake.
Bugs went silent.
Ashwin went silent.
“How’d I do that!?” He thought.
He thought about his wrist movement and body position and the nature of a wave, it’s peaks and troughs.
He raised his right arm and pivoted on his left foot as he swung his right arm to the left and the right side of his body as he paid attention to the flow of his wrist and body posture.
Two more loud cracks rang out through the bright full moon night.
“A figure eight.”
That was the pattern.
This time instead of putting his entire body behind it, Ashwin stood still and simply let his wrist and for arm do all the work, soon a rhythmic quick popping sound filled Ashwin’s camping area.
The cracks that rang out this time were deafening.
It startled Ashwin.
“Wait…so less effort equals greater force?”
He couldn’t help but give a low pleased chuckle, this was fun.
Ashwin was so pleased with the rod whip that he decided to name it on the spot.
“Ghost Mantis Whip”
It seemed fitting to him.
After a break he threw some more wood into the coalbed and blew the flames back to life.
Ashwin stared into the fire and let his mind drift back to how he ended up out here.
This was his rite of passing, a test from his clan.
He was to sojourn in the wilds of Beast Vein, using everything his clan had taught him.
For him to be welcomed back by his clan he would need to return to them bonded to a beast crystal.
Or his rite of passing would turn into exile.
This was a common custom for most clans in Beast Vein.
Every student was a representation of that clan vying for power.
Ashwin was sixteen.
By the laws of his clan, he had until his twenty-first birthday to return bonded to a Beast Crystal.
However, it was his choice of zone selection that shocked everyone.
He had chosen the Death Valley Zone, the graveyard of the Beast Vein continent.
There were hushed whispers among his peers.
The Death Valley zone was in the top five most challenging locations Beast Vein had to offer.
Some accused Ashwin of arrogance, this region boasted some of Beast veins most fearsome beasts, if Ashwin returned from this zone as a bonded cultivator his influence in his clan and region would be considerable.
Then he thought about the prize.
Depending on his level of beast and bond obtained Ashwin could be accepted into one of the top five cultivation schools.
It was an incredible honor and opportunity, and he wanted to rise with the winds and not fail his clan or himself.
Ashwin’s thoughts were interrupted when he heard something odd on the wind, a sort of alternating hum back over the small hill and passed the huge jawbone, past his old camp.
”VROOM-VA-VROOM-VA-VROOM-VA-VR00M”
It repeated over and over.
Ashwin’s gut twisted into a knot when he heard an answering call in the dead night silence even further away, then four more.
He kicked dirt over his campfire and with a trickle of Animus he dashed up the baobab tree trunk with a series of small vaults.
There were seven of the odd roaring hums back towards land in the distance.
Soon the other hums began to travel towards the hum that Ashwin could hear nearest him.
That’s when a cold fear washed over him.
He realized the sounds could be manmade as a communication technique.
Had they found his old camp?
Cold sweat beaded on Ashwin’s forehead, he chose this location for its isolation, so that he wouldn’t run the risk of having to fight another cultivator.
“But who else would come out here” he thought to himself.