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--------------------------------------------------------------- *From the original writings and work of DiZhu Ikarus* ~The Earth Teaches in Layers~ --------------------------------------------------------------- The earth spoke three different languages today. I felt the first beneath my boots as we gathered. Packed sand, somehow still breathing faint moisture upward despite the dry surface. The ground had not seen rain in many Hyuls. I pressed my heel lightly into it, testing the compression while Quotah addressed the group. Negative Shar Qi lingered strongly here. <b>Who here has never been on a scouting trip? My hand rose with a few others. A faint smile tugged at the corners of my beard. I had walked half the kingdoms, but wandering is not the same as scouting. One ponders when they wander. Scouting prepares. Quotah framed the trip plainly. Survival by observation, restraint, and adaptation. Not bravado. Not speed. The kind of patience the land respects, and one I felt even the Earth Dragon recognized. We moved into discussion as a group. Food sources first. Rats and snakes. TongChi joked about raw meat. I shook my head gently and cracked a smile. We spoke about fire and the danger of eating raw food, but more importantly how to make it. Deadwood, kindling, fuel, fire. We knelt and brushed aside loose debris. What wood remained surrendered easily. Brittle enough to snap and dry enough to catch a spark. Quotah emphasized containment. Digging a pit, lining it with stone, controlling our surroundings. Small decisions that keep a fire from becoming a liability instead of a survival tool. Shelter followed. Lean to construction, branch angles, wind direction. ?Let the land do the work,? I muttered. The desert and dirt both teach efficiency, I noted. Waste anything and danger arrives faster than hunger or thirst ever will. Security grew more important as we pushed deeper through the woodlands. I watched landmarks shift and orientation falter in places where the terrain offered little consistency. 'Criss cross alarms guide movement,' I explained. I learned under the Barbarian survival ways that alarms and traps do more than warn. They shape approach and keep you on the eating side of arrangements. Then came the snow. Sound softened first. Even voices seemed swallowed by white noise. The ground preserved everything. Every track and every careless step recorded. Cold pressed upward through the soles of my boots, steady and patient, while the wind tore through every seam in my earth robes. We spoke of melting snow for water, insulating sleeping areas, elevating shelter to avoid melt runoff. Fur for warmth. 'Snow forgives,' I said quietly, 'but it also remembers and it can kill you slowly.' Throughout it all, Quotah moved the group forward with steady clarity. She listened more than she spoke and reminded us to take only what we needed. Preparation without waste. Leadership that respected both people and land. As the lesson closed, she assigned reflection as preparation for future scouting lessons. I made it seventy two years. I plan on making it to seventy three. I stood quietly for a moment as the others began to disperse. Dirt beneath my nails. Sand in my boots. Cold lingering in my breath. Three terrains. Three temperaments and one solid reminder. The earth does not demand conquest. Only attention. | |