“You saved my life. Thank you.”

I knelt at the water’s edge and let the gratitude pool in my heart. The world probably had rituals for this--the giving of thanks--but I didn’t know them. I was a stranger to its customs and traditions, its expectations and common sense. Hopefully, my sincerity would be enough.

Or maybe... In the dream, the otter was pleased with the flint handaxe. Maybe she’d like another tool to add to her collection? I reached for the scraper, but my hand hesitated, hovering over it. There was a feeling, like I was making a mistake.

It wasn’t rational. There wasn’t any knowledge or information that made me think so. It wasn’t even intuitive. I spent enough time working with my intuition to know what that felt like. No, the hesitation came from elsewhere, outside of me and from within at the same time. It was weird and a little disconcerting, but also somehow natural. Well, let’s just say it was confusing.

I closed my eyes and tried to feel for the source of the hesitation. Immediately, the Skills page appeared in my mind, and my eye was drawn to the Taoism Skill. There was an attraction, a pull on my attention. My hand moved to the flint knife, and the hesitation eased, as did the pull on my attention.

Ooh. Is this how Skills worked? As guides? Not quite active, but not entirely passive either? Well, well, I could work with that.

I picked up the flint knife and placed it in front of me. “I offer this knife in gratitude.”

Nothing happened at first, but then a paw sneaked out of the water. It grabbed the knife before dashing away.

A goofy grin spread across my face. I sat back, content to be alive, and watched the waterfall.

My To Do list was getting longer--I needed to retrieve my digging stick and spear, make a new handaxe and knife, start a fire, catch a fish, and decide if I wanted to be a hermit, at least until I got my bearings. I sighed. That also meant I needed to figure out how to survive whatever served as winter around here.

But before all that, I had made a promise to myself to use all the tools available to me. I started poking at my Skills to see what else I could learn. I focused on each one in turn and made some interesting observations.

First, they were made from bundles of memories: Helen and I hiking along the Columbia River Gorge, me pouring over the books as I prepared the company for a visit from our auditors, my pottery teacher Ms. Candace talking to the class about the composition of different kinds of clay. I didn’t suddenly have an eidetic memory. It was more like, if I was patient, I could tease out information and experiences related to the Skill.

Second, it wasn’t just memories. There was no way for me to know that the knife was the more appropriate gift and yet I still knew. It was like there was an edge to the Taoism Skill, a boundary between the known and unknown, and information crossed over. That was conjecture, but if it proved true, it meant I could tap my Skills for guidance; not just for decision making, but also for further development of the Skill. Even without a teacher.

I felt my heart beat faster.

That was important, because the odds of me finding a teacher didn’t look good. Sure, the learning process would be slow, but theoretically, all I’d need is a foothold in a Skill and with practice, it’d grow as I pushed at the boundary between known and unknown. It was like being given a map for getting better, but seeing only one step at a time.

I jumped up and danced when I realized that. The only thing that stopped me was a pair of judgemental otter eyes peeking up from the water’s surface. She slipped back into the water when she noticed me noticing her.

Ahem. Back to my thoughtful contemplation of Skills.

Theory aside, what could I do with my Skills right now? Turns out that it was a lot.

For example, when I focused on Survival Forest, I recalled a conversation with the esteemed Dr. Singh, one where he mentioned something called pie-rye-it-tease. That’s how it sounded to me anyway, and I had to stop him. The word was unfamiliar, and it tweaked my ego that I didn’t know it.

He explained that pie-rye-it-tease was a common mineral ancient peoples used, along with flint, to start fires. He personally preferred a spindle and hearth board, or even a bow drill, as he found them more satisfying, but flint and pie-rye-it-tease were helpful tools too. There was even recent evidence Neanderthals used them to start fires.

Pie-rye-it-tease, he explained, was sometimes called Fool’s Gold. Or if you weren’t British, pyrite or iron pyrite. Which, by the way, was often found near flint deposits.

I slapped my forehead when I remembered that.

I’d completely forgotten about using pyrite and flint as fire starting tools. The blame was partly due to Meliune’s Blessing affecting my thinking, but mostly it was because I didn’t pay attention to the practice when I first learned about it. The only reason I listened at all was because of the confusion about the word pyrite. The actual practice of striking flint against steel (or pyrite) was so common in fantasy novels, I didn’t find it interesting. In a strange way, it was too familiar, and I didn’t feel the need to learn more about it.

Fool’s gold indeed. With me as the fool. Luckily, I knew better now.

If I’d gone ahead with my plan to use a spindle and hearth board, I would’ve rubbed my hands raw. The skin was brand new, as soft as a baby’s bottom, and the blisters would’ve set me back days, if not weeks, in my attempt to start a fire.

Flint and pyrite, or even a bow drill, were much smarter approaches, especially since the tools were so readily available. And that was confirmed by my Survival Forest Skill, as it nudged me towards those options. There was also a light connection to my Mana score, which likely indicated there was magic available to start small fires. Exciting stuff that. Assuming I ever got through the door blocking me from using my Mana.

All in all, I spent the morning sitting around thinking. And getting hungry. My stomach eventually forced me outside.

At the cave’s exit, I promised myself that I’d be careful. But also that I’d find a way to do more than just survive. I was gifted a second life, and I refused to waste it. To do so would shame the memory of my wife and everything I learned from her. All I had to do was reach for the life I wanted.

A pair of otter eyes watched me leave, but when I spun around, there was only a splash of water.