Chapter 8 Chapter Eight: The Sparks of the Porcupine and the Dream

At first, he thought it was a snarl.In this dark hut, at midnight, he woke up suddenly, opened his eyes, and thought he heard a roar just now.But if he listened carefully, it was only the wind, and it was the sound of the strong wind blowing through the pines that had startled him and woke him up.He sat up and caught the scent immediately. It made his hair stand on end.The smell was something rotten, something moldy and rotten, and it reminded him only of cobwebs and dust and dead bodies.He opened his nostrils and widened his eyes, but he couldn't see anything.It was too dark, the clouds obscured the stars, and it was pitch black all around.But the smell, the smell was real, and it permeated the entire shed alive.He thought of the bear, and Sasquatch, and every monster in a horror movie he'd ever seen.His heart suddenly rose to his throat.

Then he heard skidding.A galloping slide had approached his feet.So, with all his strength, he kicked it out, and threw the hatchet at the sound, screaming in his throat.Unfortunately, the hatchet went off the hook and hit the wall, catching a trail of sparks the instant it hit the rock.Immediately, it seemed as if hundreds of steel needles were pierced into his leg, and the pain was unbearable in an instant. "Woo!" Now, he screamed, pain and fear in his voice.I saw him retreating into the corner quickly, gasping for breath, opening his eyes wide and stretching his ears, desperately trying to see and hear clearly.

The slithering sound started to move again, and at first he thought it was coming towards him, but he was too startled to breathe.He vaguely saw a short black figure, huddled in the darkness, a living figure, but it was gone now, gliding and scraping away.He vaguely saw or thought he saw it go out through the open door. He lay on the ground for a while, took a deep breath, and listened with bated breath: Will the intruder come back?He didn't feel a sharp pain in his calf until he was sure that the black shadow hadn't returned. The pain first concentrated in one place and then spread to the whole leg.

With his fingers he gingerly found a set of needles that went through the leg of his trousers and dug deep into the flesh of his calf.They were extremely hard, and the exposed ends were extremely sharp, and immediately, he knew who the intruder was.A porcupine recklessly stumbled into his shed, and when he stretched out to kick it, the idiot stabbed him with the steel spine of its tail. He caressed each steel hair lightly, and the pain was as if dozens of steel needles had pierced his leg.There were only eight of them, and they pinned the leg of his trousers to his skin.You can't just plug it in like this, you have to pull it out.But his mere touch can cause severe pain.

Too soon, he read, how quickly things changed.When he was going to sleep, he was still satisfied, but the situation changed drastically in the blink of an eye.He grabbed a steel hair, held his breath, and pulled it out suddenly.Oh, damn it, the intense pain is rushing straight to the brain.But he didn't know where the courage came from, he grabbed the second one, pulled it out, and then another one.He pulled out four steel hairs one after another before stopping.The pain quickly changed from a needle-like sting to a burning pain all over his leg, which made him breathe in continuously. Some steel wools pierce deeper and break when pulled out.In this way, he had to take two deep breaths, exhale halfway, and then pull out.Slam, pause, slam—three or four more times.He collapsed in the dark, OK, done.At this moment, the pain was spreading all over his leg, which made him feel another wave of self-pity.Think about it: a person is sitting alone in a dark place with an injured leg, and the hateful mosquitoes come up to him without knowing it, "Wow", he cried again.Enough was enough, too much, too much, he couldn't stand it.You can't do this to him!

I can't take it anymore, being here alone, with no fire, just surrounded by darkness, next time it might be something scarier, maybe a bear, then it's not just sticks in the legs Get stabbed, and it gets worse.I can't do it! He thought over and over again.I can not make it!Brian dragged his stiff left leg, moved it little by little, and sat up straight against the corner of the cave.He lay on his knees with his head on his arms and wept aloud. He didn't know how long he cried.Later, when he recalled the crying time hiding in the corner of the cave, he believed that it was at this time that he learned the most important survival rule, that is: self-pity is useless.Not only should you not feel sorry for yourself, or it is wrong to do so.Worst of all: Self-pity doesn't help.He sat alone in the dark and wept until he was exhausted, but nothing changed.The leg still hurt, the sky was still dark, and he was all alone—self-pity wasn't enough.

He finally fell asleep again, but the sleep pattern had changed, and the sleep had become shallower, more like a restive nap than a deep sleep.In the remaining night, he was awakened twice by rustling noises.During his last nap, the last light sleep before dawn and the swarms of mosquitoes, he actually dreamed.This time he dreamed not of his mother, or of the secret, but first of his father, and then of his friend Terry. When the dream first started, Dad stood in a corner of the living room and looked at him. Obviously, judging from his expression, he seemed to want to say something to him.Dad's lips parted slightly, strangely, but there was no sound, not even a whisper.He waved at Brian, gestured something, seemed to be scratching something, and then he managed to get a word out of his mouth, but damn it, Brian couldn't see clearly.Then he made a "MMMMM" shape with his lips, but there was still no sound. "MMMMM", what's that?Brian just couldn't hear, couldn't read, but he just wanted to figure it out.It's so important to find out what Dad is talking about!Dad tried so hard to help him, so hard, but Brian just couldn't figure it out.Dad seemed angry, the way he usually does when Brian keeps asking questions.Then, the image receded, Dad gradually became blurred, Brian couldn't see anything, and the dream seemed to come to an end.But just as the shallow dream was approaching, Terry came.

Instead of gesturing to Brian, he sat on a park bench, staring at the pothole of the barbecue, and remained silent for a while.Then, he stood up, poured the charcoal in the bag into the cooker, poured in the combustion-supporting liquid, and took out a flick lighter to light it.When the fluid was burning and the charcoal finally warmed, Terry turned around, and in his dream Terry noticed Brian for the first time.He smiled and pointed to the fire, as if to say: Look, fire. The scene meant nothing to Bryan other than a desire for fire.He saw a grocery bag on the table next to Terry, oh, it must have hot dogs and chips and mustard in it, and all he could think about was food.But Terry shook his head and pointed to the fire again.He pointed twice more, asking Brian to watch the flames.Brian felt the disappointment and anger rushing to his forehead, and he thought: Yes, yes, I see fire, but so what?I still have no fire?I know fire, and I know I need fire.

I already knew this, and I don't need you to remind me. He opened his eyes, and a ray of light entered the shed, a gray morning light.He wiped his mouth and tried to move his leg, which was already as stiff as wood.I'm thirsty, and my stomach is growling.So he ate some blackberries wrapped in a windbreaker.Some of them were already rotten, and they seemed to be softer and more mushy, but they were still delicious to eat.He squeezed the blackberries with his tongue against the palate, and the sweet juice flowed obediently into his throat.Just as it was beautiful, a golden light flashed, attracting his attention.He saw the hand-ax drop on the sand where he had thrown it at the porcupine that night.

He pulled himself up, and the necessity of bending his stiff left leg made him shiver with pain, and he crawled to the hand-axe.He took up the hatchet and studied it carefully, and found a chip in the blade. Although the gap wasn't that big, he thought that the hand ax was extremely important to him. It was his only tool, and it was wrong to throw it around.He should keep it in his hand at all times, and make some other tool with which to drive away the beast.Make a stick, he thought, or a spear, but keep the ax firmly in your hand.While holding the hatchet, he had a sudden idea, something to do with the dream, Papa, and Terry, but he couldn't say exactly.

"Aha!..." He climbed out, bathed in the morning sun, stretched the muscles in his back, and kicked his sore leg.The handaxe was still in his hand as he stretched, and when he raised it above his head, it met the first rays of morning light: the first faint light hit the silver handaxe, and suddenly there was a flash of light in the morning light. A golden light, like fire.That's it, he thought, that's what they're trying to tell me. fire!The handle ax is the key.It reminded him of throwing the hand ax at the porcupine in the cave last night, and when he missed it, the hand ax hit the rock wall and sent a stream of sparks.The rain of golden sparks in the dark night is like the sun at this time, shining golden and blazing. Hand axes were the answer, and that's what Papa and Terry wanted to tell him.He had to find a way to get the fire out of the hatchet.Sparks always light a fire! Brian went back into the shed and looked at the wall carefully.It's some kind of chalky granite or sandstone, with a lot of dark rock embedded in it, harder and darker rock.After a while, Brian found where the hand ax had hit the rock face.The ax blade scratched the side of a dark rock.He deflected the blade slightly, and tapped the black rock lightly with the flat back of the axe.It was so light that nothing happened.He added some strength, struck obliquely, and two or three faint sparks shot out from the rock, and they were fleeting. He flanked harder, letting the hatchet rub against the rock longer this time.The black rock burst into flames, sparks flew out densely, and some naughty sparks were still jumping and playing on the sand under the rock.Brian laughed and hit the rock over and over again. There is going to be a fire here, and he is happy. "I'm going to start a fire here, and make flames with this hatchet."