After experiencing Sofare’s first every temper tantrum, none of them forced her to join the daily baby gatherings. Cabg and his parents had a heated discussion about this, but ultimately decided it was pointless, since she proved she could just run away again and go back home.

One benefit that came out of that entire fiasco was that Sofare was oddly motivated to learn how to speak. Cabg was very happy to help her, although quickly realized that a big stumbling block was that she had horrible pitch differentiation. After trying and failing for a week, he gave up and let his parents teach her instead.

After a year or so, Sofare finally could communicate well enough, which excited Cabg, as he could finally talk to his sister. This is when Cabg realized that his sister was never antisocial, but rather only seemed like it because she couldn’t understand the language. Rather, he felt that she was way too chatty, since she would always ask him random questions about the world that even he didn’t know.

In fact, even their parents didn’t know the answer to a lot of the strange questions she asked, such as “Why is the sky purple?” or “Why are there only 292 days in a year?” That last question made Cabg realize that she was rather sharp in a few areas, since even he couldn’t count past 144, and no one taught her the number of days in a year yet.

Naturally, her parents tried to get her to join the daily baby gatherings, and she reluctantly accepted in the end. She was oddly insistent on walking back home herself, claiming that it would be embarrassing for her to need to be picked up. They just let her be, and she always came back home on time.

More time passed, and Sofare became three years old. Her family was no longer worried about her mental capabilities, as she overtook her peers in that department, but her physical growth was another story. She still looked to be two years old and had horrible stamina and strength. Frankly, her family would be happy to shelter her forever, but since she had often said that she wanted to help around, they decided that she might as well start to work, even though they wondered if she was even fit enough to do so.

 

---

 

On my third birthday, my family threw me a small celebration, and after wolfing down the succulent deer with a helping of berries, my parents had an announcement for me. Since I received a leather ball and a few wooden blocks previously, I was expecting some other toy as my birthday gift. What I definitely was not expecting was employment. I mean, isn’t that usually something people want to avoid? That being said, I did remember pestering my parents to let me help around since sitting around doing nothing gets boring real fast and I have no friends to talk to.

“Okay, so the first thing I want you to help out with is to help make spears.”

“Okay!” I replied, while thinking, Um, what? Letting three-year olds make pointy weapons? I still can’t get used to how lax my parents are, even though it’s probably better for me.

“First thing to do is to go and collect a basket full of rocks.”

“Okay?” I replied, bending down to pick up the random pebbles strewn across the dirt floor.

“No, make sure there are around the size as… half your fist”

“Oh, right.”

I left the tent and began looking for rocks, which weren’t as common as I was expecting. I ended up digging around the dirt with my hands, and eventually, I found seven of them and came back.

My father inspected the rocks, one by one, commenting on each one of them.

“So this rock is too hard, this rock is fine, this rock is also fine, this rock is too soft, this rock is fine, this rock is too hard, and uh,” my father lifted the last rock up and sniffed it. “This last one is not a rock, but a dried-up terpomo.”

“Wait, a what?”

“Terpomo. You know, the starchy tuber that you’ve eaten before?”

“That hard thing is actually food?”

“Well, you have to get rid of the hard skin and soak it in water, but yes. Anyhow, these rocks that I said are fine can be used as spearheads. So first, you want to knap the softer rocks with the harder one you found here, like this,” my father said as he struck the rocks against each other. The softer rock began to flake off, and eventually, started to resemble a spearhead.

I picked up the rocks and tried to copy him. What happened was nothing. I tried again, but applied more force. Nothing happened. I struck with all my might. Nothing. Happened. I wildly struck the rocks against each other, and I ended up scrapping my hands on the rock, causing me to bleed a bit.

“Actually, on second thought, maybe you aren’t ready for this. Uh, you can just clean up the house?"

“Don’t I already do that?”

“Right… Well there has to be something a weakling like you can do. Like um -”

“Why don’t you just have her help forage for food?” my mother interrupted.

“Isn’t Sofare a bit too young for that? What if she mistakes something with a poisonous variety and snacks on it?”

“Don’t worry, as weak and small as she is, she is actually really mature. Surely she wouldn’t eat anything secretly.” My mother than turned to me and added, “Isn’t that right?”

“Of course I wouldn’t,” I replied. “But did you really have to rub it in that I grow slowly?”

“Don’t worry, you’re much cuter this way.”

Not wanting to dwell on my size any longer, I asked, “Anyways, so about foraging for food, you mind teaching me the basics?”

“I can do that!” Cabg shouted from the room next door.

My mother yelled back, “Did you finish cleaning your room yet?”

“Of course!”

My father said, “Well, I guess we might as well make this a family picnic then. What’s on the menu is whatever you guys find.”

“What if we don’t find anything though?” I asked.

“Then too bad!”

My entire family left our tent, and we took a leisurely stroll while my brother held hands with me, supposedly to prevent me from getting lost.

“Hey, sis! See those berries in the bushes over there? Those tasty really good when boiled into a sauce! Come, let’s pick some!” Cabg said, yanking on my arm as he dashed forward.

I yelled, “Ah my arm! Slow down! The berries aren’t going anywhere!”

As soon as I said that however, a flock of birds flew over and began eating the berries right in front of us.

I sighed, and said, “Or, never mind then. But still, I can’t run that fast!”

My brother let go of my hand and proceeded to scare the birds away. By the time I walked over, he already filled the bottom of the basket, and was drooling slightly.

“So, how can you tell these berries are edible anyways?” I asked.

“Oh, first of all, they have this unique smell,” he said, as he moved a few berries in front of my nose. “And next, if you eat them, they taste really sweet! Like –”

“What did I say about eating while foraging?” my mother interrupted, glaring daggers at Cabg.

“Uh,” Cabg muttered, “You don’t?”

“Yes. So why are you trying to tell your sister to determine whether something is edible or not by eating it? Didn’t you say you wanted to protect her? Or was that a lie and you want to kill her again?”

I exclaimed, “Wait, what?! Kill me again?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” my brother said, flustered. “I swear that I definitely do not want you dead. So about these berries, uh, I guess other than the fact they are purple, um, just smell them.”

When did he nearly kill me? Ever since I was born, I don’t remember any near-death experience. Unless he tried to pull a dangerous prank and failed or something? I guess I’ll just secretly ask mom about it. In the meantime, I might as well concentrate on the foraging lesson.

“Do any other berries smell kind of similar?” I asked.

“No?” he replied, and turned to look at dad.

“Actually, there is a mildly poisonous variety that smells similar, and happens to be quite close in color. Well, if you look at them in brighter conditions, like during the day, the color difference becomes more obvious. And you do remember that your sister does have a messed-up sense of smell, right?”

“Oh. Right.”

Cabg continued to introduce me to various sorts of edible plant life, but annoyingly described almost every indicator with some sort of smell. I have no idea if it’s because I was formerly a human, but they frankly smell pretty similar most of the time. Occasionally, my parents would add in some other tidbits of information, or correct some mistakes.

Eventually, the basket Cabg brought was filled with various berries, nuts, roots, mushrooms, leaves, and fruits, so we all sat down on the forest floor and had a nice picnic.

“So, Sofare, now that your brother taught you the basics of foraging, are you ready to start tomorrow?”

I replied, “Uh, I’m pretty sure I’ll forget a lot of what he said since it was a lot to take in, so would it be fine if someone were to accompany me in the beginning?”

“Of course.” My father turned to Cabg and added, “Now this is the humility you need, Mr. I’m going to do everything alone after being taught once and then catastrophically failing immediately after.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I promise I won’t do that anymore.”

“Well, as long as you are reflecting,” my father said while popping a few berries into his mouth. “Anyhow, starting tomorrow, bring Sofare with you when you go foraging.”

“And if he ever eats on the job, tell me about it,” my mother said to me.

“Will do,” I replied.

The picnic ended peacefully, and we all went home.