Securing Emergency Food
The dead rabbit was skinned right there on the spot.
The arrow made from trimmed bamboo was thicker than expected.
The wound, wide as Juhwan’s finger, overflowed with blood, soaking the rabbit’s fur, which had not yet lost its body heat.
The body, where the arrow had not struck, was relatively clean. The fur had blocked the flowing blood, so it wasn’t too messy.
“....”
Juhwan had often seen animals being cut apart, but this was his first time actually doing it himself. When he dealt with the wolf before, he had made many mistakes.
“I shouldn’t repeat the same mistakes.”
He focused carefully on his hands, remembering what his grandfather had done.
He had lived with his grandfather for about a year, when he was in middle school. His grandfather passed away after that short time.
Afterward, he stayed at a few relatives’ houses for short periods, but soon ended up living alone in a small house.
He was lonely, but he didn’t blame anyone.
Among his relatives, rumors spread that his parents and even his grandfather had died because of him.
He also believed it himself—that anyone close to him, anyone he cared about, would die.
It felt natural for a child followed by death to live alone.
Even though he accepted it that way, it still hurt. In high school, whenever he bumped into someone, he would throw punches without thinking.
“In this world… I don’t want to lose anyone.”
Lizzy and Dorothy…
No—Santa had guaranteed it, so it should be fine. It had to be.
While thinking these scattered thoughts, Juhwan skinned the rabbit and removed its insides. Gus stood quietly beside him, watching.
From time to time, Gus lightly tapped Juhwan’s arm to signal him to stop, then showed small details—like how to hold the knife or where to cut the skin. Other than that, he didn’t interfere much.
After finishing, they hung the rabbit briefly on a tree and removed the snare. It was just a simple looped rope, easy to set and easy to remove.
Using a hook-like metal tool, Gus scraped the hard ground and buried the organs. Then he covered it lightly with snow.
Juhwan found it strange. Even if animals were drawn by the smell of blood, they were far from the house—so why bury it?
He asked in broken speech:
“Blood… leave… okay?”
Gus shook his head.
“Bad… beast… big… no.”
They exchanged a few more words before Juhwan realized he had been confusing the words for “big” and “wide.”
Once he corrected it, the meaning became clear. Carnivorous animals have wide territories, so even far from home, it’s better to hide all traces after killing something.
“So even hunters must hide their tracks.”
Juhwan nodded in understanding.
In the mountains, hunters could also encounter dangerous predators. It made sense to leave no trace.
He began recalling everything Gus had done while they were together. Even actions Gus never explained must have had meaning—some possibly critical.
“I need to pay attention to those things too.”
Hunting wasn’t something learned through words. It was learned by watching and following.
Even though he understood that, in real life, it was still difficult. He kept missing small things without realizing.
Then the rabbit’s eyes came back to him—filled with pain and fear as it looked at him.
“I must not forget today.”
Even though he could have killed it instantly, he had deliberately caused it pain.
“That wasn’t hunting… it wasn’t right.”
It felt cruel, something against nature.
But since Gus made him do it, there must have been a reason.
“Those eyes… I’ll remember them forever.”
Juhwan let out a small breath.
Suddenly, he imagined a bear or wolf entering his home and harming Lizzy and Dorothy—biting their hands, tearing at their legs…
The terrified eyes of his family overlapped with the rabbit’s eyes.
“Stop.”
He shook his head.
Now he had tools. With what the villagers had given him, he could build a fence around the house.
“I’ll start today.”
Hunting was not romantic. For both humans and animals, it was about survival.
“And remember… humans are not the only hunters.”
Animals hunted too—often even better.
Gus rummaged through his bag. It was slightly bigger than Juhwan’s and seemed to hold many things.
He pulled out a rolled piece of cloth. When unfolded, it became a worn cloth bag.
He handed it to Juhwan.
“Here… rabbit… put… take.”
It seemed Gus was giving him the rabbit. Juhwan accepted without hesitation and slightly bowed his head.
“Thank you.”
Gus just grinned silently.
Juhwan placed the skinned rabbit and fur into the bag, tied it tightly, and hung it from his waist. The weight made both his body and heart feel heavier.
They checked other snares. At the second one, another rabbit was caught.
This time, Gus handled it. In an instant, he killed and skinned it.
His method was faster and rougher—but cleaner.
“I should follow his way.”
Juhwan memorized every movement.
That rabbit belonged to Gus.
At the next snare, nothing was caught.
But at the fourth—and final—snare, there was another rabbit.
Gus smiled, as if today was lucky.
“Take… rabbit.”
This one was for Juhwan.
As he walked toward it, he suddenly stopped.
What if… he raised it instead?
Raising rabbits wasn’t that hard. Just feeding and cleaning. They didn’t even smell too bad, from what he remembered.
Rabbits reproduced quickly.
“They could become emergency food.”
He thought of Lizzy and Dorothy’s thin bodies.
“I don’t want them to go hungry.”
He turned to Gus and explained with gestures:
“Rabbit… take… not kill.”
Gus covered his mouth, trying not to laugh, but nodded.
He didn’t object.
Juhwan approached the rabbit, and Gus gave him another bag.
After putting it inside, the rabbit struggled briefly, then became still.
Juhwan worried for a moment that it might attract predators—but Gus’s reaction suggested it was fine.
After that, Gus took Juhwan to his house.
This time, instead of waiting outside, he led him to a storage shed behind it.
Inside, it smelled of wood.
Juhwan’s eyes widened slightly.
One wall was lined with bamboo arrows—so many of them. Some had metal tips, others didn’t. Some tips were blunt, others barbed. There were even simple sharpened wooden arrows.
Nearby were large wooden containers filled with bamboo shafts. Another held long bird feathers. A smaller one held metal arrowheads.
On the opposite side were flat wooden boards, about Juhwan’s height—likely for bows. Some were unfinished, others shaped like the bow he carried.
“Bow?”
Juhwan asked.
Gus nodded.
He pointed to a workbench where an unfinished bow lay.
Juhwan had thought bows and arrows were bought somewhere. But it seemed Gus made everything himself—except for things like metal tips.
“Gus… make? Bow? Arrow?”
“Yes. I make. I teach you.”
“You… teach me?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll learn to make bows and arrows.”
Juhwan suddenly understood why the bows were almost straight.
Curved bows would be much harder to make. They would probably require bending wood over long periods or special tools.
But this simple design could be made alone.
“Can I… look?”
Gus nodded.
Juhwan walked around the shed, touching things carefully.
The feathers were different—some curved left, others right. That felt strange to him.
He also noticed the wood used for bows had different levels of dryness.
“There’s so much I don’t know.”
Since coming to this world, he kept realizing how little he understood.
The knowledge he had from Earth was mostly useless here.
A bitter smile appeared on his face.