The garden was complete.
Rows of future flavor now slept under sun-warmed soil, mint and lavender standing watch like silent guardians. Ken had just finished watering the beds when his father stepped into view, bow slung over one shoulder and a coil of rope in hand.
"Off again?" Ken asked, wiping dirt from his hands.
"Just checking the trap lines. Haven't had luck with the bow lately," his father said. Then he paused, giving Ken a once-over. "You've been working like a real farmer lately."
Ken stood, stretching. "Actually, I was hoping to learn. Not bow hunting—not yet—but trapping. I want to start gathering meat on my own."
His father raised a brow, then nodded thoughtfully. "Good. You won't always have time to stalk your food. Traps work while you sleep."
They headed into the woods together, the forest filtering sunlight down like golden mist. The morning air was crisp, and the trees cast long shadows over the dew-damp forest floor as Ken walked beside his father, a length of gut string wound around one shoulder and a satchel slung over the other. His garden lay behind him, quietly taking root in the warming earth. Today, he was taking the next step in self-reliance.
"Traps don't sleep," his father started. "They work through the night, in the rain, while you cook or sleep or sit by the fire."
They stepped off the path and into a narrow stretch of brush where animals often moved unnoticed.
"First lesson—learn the terrain. See that?" His father pointed to a barely visible trail of crushed grass. "That's a rabbit run. Low, narrow, always hugging cover."
Ken knelt and studied it—tufts of hair on thorns, a small, dark dropping, and the scent of damp soil and fur. His mind clicked.
"Snare it?"
His father smiled. "Exactly."
They spent the next two hours going from trail to trail as his father demonstrated various types of traps and the logic behind them.
A spring snare using a sapling and tension cord—perfect for small mammals.
A deadfall trap using a rock propped by a twig tripod and bait.
A bird snare set between two trees with a loop of cord at head height.
A funnel trap of interlaced sticks for herding animals into confined space.
Even a pit trap, though crude, was explained for larger prey.
Ken practiced each setup, his fingers fumbling at first but slowly adapting. The system chimed after every successful completion.
[Skill Gained: Basic Trapping (Lv. 1)]
Trapping EXP: 0% → 14%
+10 EXP | Ken EXP: 35/60
As the sun neared its peak, they finished resetting a few old traps and marked the new ones with simple grass knots and tiny stone piles.
On their way back, Ken stopped near a shaded rocky outcropping where the ground was soft and moss-covered. Something drew his attention—a shimmer from his Seasoning Sense.
He knelt and carefully pulled aside the moss.
There, growing in a shaded cluster, were small stalks with purple-striped stems and bulbous white bases.
Wild fennel. Sharp, aromatic, with a licorice bite.
Nearby, growing in dappled light, he spotted flat, arrowhead-shaped leaves and tugged gently at the roots.
Arrowroot. Starchy and smooth, perfect for thickening or grinding into powder.
Finally, just before the forest broke into open field, he noticed round, bulbous clumps growing beneath nettles. Pulling one free revealed a gray-green knob with a textured skin.
Woodland wasabi. Rare, sharp, and powerful when grated.
[Ingredient Identification EXP +9% → 45%]
[Seasoning Sense EXP +6% → 55%]
Ken cradled the finds in his satchel as they reached home by mid-afternoon.
His father turned to him before heading inside.
"You've got sharp eyes," he said. "You keep at it, and the forest will feed you for a lifetime."
Ken smiled, already thinking about dinner.
That Evening
With no meat caught yet, Ken kept things simple. He wanted to test the wild fennel's aroma and arrowroot's starch. He also wanted to try something that could be repeated at a food stall: quick, hearty, and cheap.
He kneaded a simple dough—flour, water, and a pinch of salt—flattened it with a rolling pin and toasted the rounds on a flat iron plate over the fire.
Unleavened bread. Rustic tortillas.
Next, he stewed green onions and fennel in a clay pot with salt and garlic, adding slivers of leftover Crownroot and a starchy spoonful of boiled arrowroot to thicken it into a paste.
He spread the mixture into the warm bread, rolled them, and served them wrapped in mint leaves as makeshift holders.
His parents took cautious bites… then warm, satisfied ones.
"This—" his father mumbled through a mouthful, "—this tastes like something a traveler would buy on the road. Clean, rich, easy to hold."
His mother nodded. "And it smells amazing. You should make more of these."
Ken grinned and tore off a piece of his own.
[New Recipe Added: Forest Flatwrap (★ ★ ☆ ☆ ☆)]
[Ingredient Prep EXP +6% → 47%]
[Fire Control EXP +5% → 30%]
[Seasoning Sense EXP +5% → 60%]
[Basic Trapping EXP +6% → 20%]
After the dishes were cleared and Ken sat by the window, the system chimed gently, offering his updated stats:
KEN — STATUS
Level: 3
EXP: 35/60
Unspent Attribute Points: 0
ATTRIBUTES
STR: 7
DEX: 9
INT: 11
END: 8
CHA: 7
PER: 6 (+1 active bonus)
LCK: 9
TS: 3
SS: 4
UNLOCKED SKILLS
Ingredient Prep (Lv. 1 – 47%)
Fire Control (Lv. 1 – 30%)
Seasoning Sense (Lv. 1 – 60%)
Ingredient Identification (Lv. 1 – 45%)
Basic Gardening (Lv. 1 – 15%)
Basic Trapping (Lv. 1 – 20%)
Ken exhaled deeply.
Traps laid. Garden growing. Wild flavors harvested.
And with a flat piece of bread and a bit of forest spice… he was already shaping his own cuisine.
One day soon, he thought, this flatbread will be passed hand-to-hand across the village square.