Chapter 11

The Feather Clan’s claws were long—each swipe could reach over a dozen centimeters. Some of the clan even amused themselves by digging their claws completely into the soil. Now, even the shallowest spots met Bai Shuo’s standards; the dead branches and fallen leaves on the surface had been turned under, making the ground ready for direct sowing.

Bai Shuo called on Bai Su, Wu Yan, and Cai Hong for help. The four of them used twigs to draw straight lines on the ground, allowing the other cubs to scatter seeds along these lines for easier weeding and harvesting later.

Sowing seeds was a simple task for the cubs. Each one would walk along a line, evenly scattering the wheat seeds from their hands onto the ground, finishing once they reached the other side.

Before noon, over a dozen cubs had finished planting the wheat. Most of the wheat Bai Shuo had stored yesterday was used up in this patch. Unfortunately, the Feather Clan didn’t need to grind their claws daily, which left Bai Shuo a bit regretful. If they did, they wouldn’t need to till the land separately in the future.

This area had fewer trees, and the largest were only two or three years old. Their small canopies blocked little sunlight, so the wheat growth wasn’t hindered.

On the way back, Bai Shuo picked some grass seeds to feed the little chirping birds at home. Many in the clan had seen these birds the night before and thought Bai Shuo was raising them just for fun. Some even quietly warned Bai Yun that he should kill and eat them soon, before they grew too thin from hunger.

Bai Shuo knew about this because their voices were loud enough for him to hear clearly from a distance. The Feather Clan’s whispers were only slightly softer than normal conversation and weren’t meant to be secretive.

Regardless of what others said, the little chirping birds had been doing well these past two days. The day before, Bai Shuo and Bai Su had pulled some grass seeds out, and that morning, the birds had eaten all of it. Their appetites were good, and they appeared lively, showing no signs of refusing food or water. Perhaps it was because the first thing they saw after hatching was him—the birds seemed especially happy to see him.

Worried the little birds might dirty the cave, Bai Shuo fashioned a simple enclosure at their cave entrance. Everyone in the tribe knew these birds belonged to his family, so no one would interfere.

Since they were eating and drinking well, the feared scenarios didn’t happen. Bai Shuo felt confident—they were more than halfway to success. As long as they survived the first few days safely, the birds would likely grow strong.

The little birds were too small to be left alone at the foot of the mountain overnight, and moving them up and down daily was troublesome. Bai Shuo decided to keep them in the mountain for the next few days and only move them down when they were a bit bigger. Carrying food up and down was far easier than the birds themselves.

When Bai Shuo returned to the mountain with a bunch of grass seeds, he found the little chirping birds wandering about leisurely. The tribe assigned caves based on combat strength; their cave was large with a wide entrance. The enclosure they had made the day before covered a big enough area for the birds to run around.

Hearing his footsteps, the birds chirped excitedly, stretching their necks to look outside. The enclosing stones were too high for them to see without Bai Shuo approaching.

He scattered the grass seeds evenly into the feeding trough. Bai Xun had made the trough the night before by splitting a fist-thick branch in half with a stone knife and hollowing out the middle with his claws. He made two troughs—just enough for over a dozen birds to eat at once.

“Chirp chirp chirp—” the birds ate happily.

Bai Shuo added some water to a nearby pile of leaves. Some of the well-fed birds immediately went to drink, lowering their heads to sip and then tilting back to swallow.

Seeing their lively and active behavior, there was no sign of any despair leading to refusal to eat.

Just as Bai Shuo felt satisfied with their progress, Bai Le hurried down from the mountain.

“Brother, brother—”

Bai Shuo was about to respond when he noticed the little birds, which had just been eating and drinking, suddenly stop and scatter in chaos, pressing desperately into a corner. The largest one—the first to hatch—looked up at Bai Shuo and called out as if urging him to hide.

Bai Shuo looked from the frightened birds to his younger brother, who was about ten meters away, and suddenly understood—the birds weren’t refusing food out of stubbornness, but out of fear, much like when they refused to leave their shells in the cave. Both reactions stemmed from sensing danger.

Bai Shuo confirmed this by repeatedly testing with Bai Le.

If Bai Le remained silent and approached within about five meters, the birds would stop eating. If he spoke, the distance increased to about thirty meters, and the louder the voice, the stronger the effect.

Since Bai Le was still a cub, his presence already had a strong intimidating effect. Adult Feather Clan members’ presence was undoubtedly more frightening. Thus, when others observed the birds refusing food, they thought the birds were starving themselves, but in truth, they were just scared.

The frightened birds huddled together. Bai Shuo comforted them by gently stroking the largest one. That bird seemed to understand something, chirped loudly, and as if the alarm was lifted, the birds resumed eating and drinking.

Bai Shuo petted the largest bird a few more times. Though he couldn’t understand the meaning of their calls, other birds clearly obeyed this one. The little birds affectionately rubbed against his hand.

...

In the afternoon, Bai Su took the cubs to gather plants that Bai Shuo needed, while Bai Shuo stayed at the mountain’s base trying to make tools.

The tribe’s existing tools were limited: mostly simple polished stones and bones. While raw materials were abundant and easy to obtain, the tools required considerable effort to use. Adults could manage, but cubs often lacked the strength. Bai Shuo, being weaker than most, hoped that using tools would save effort and allow him to accomplish more.

He planned to make a simple hoe for digging soil. The small onions they had dug out yesterday took a long time to extract. A hoe would make the work much easier. Additionally, once the wheat sprouted, the weeds in the fields would need hoeing.

Recalling the structure of a hoe, Bai Shuo remembered that in his previous life, hoes were made of iron, which was unavailable here. So stone would remain the material for the blade, and the handle would be a tree branch.

Finding these materials was easy. Bai Shuo took out their family’s stone knife—a piece of rock broken off a larger stone and polished. Then he searched the branch pile. The tribe consumed many branches daily, with all sorts of odd shapes, so finding a forked one was effortless.

Having both materials, Bai Shuo realized he’d forgotten an important item: rope.

The tribe’s ropes were strips of torn animal hide. Not every piece of hide was perfectly shaped for clothing, so the elders used bone or stone knives to cut off excess parts. Pieces that could hold items were folded and tied to make pouches; those that couldn’t were cut into strips to serve as ropes for tying clothes or prey.

Due to tool limitations, these hide ropes were thick and unsuitable for tying a hoe.

Bai Shuo felt he needed hemp rope.

Hemp rope came from hemp plants. After some thought, he realized there was a similar plant here.

It was a cane-like plant about as thick as sugarcane but inedible. Its tough outer layer and sponge-like, slightly firm core dried out during the dry season, making it easier to ignite than other branches. The fibers between the core and bark seemed to be exactly what he needed.

With this in mind, Bai Shuo continued rummaging in the branch pile. This plant was abundant, and the cubs often cut and brought some back.

...

This hemp-like plant grew especially straight, quite unlike the crooked branches. Bai Shuo pulled out several without much effort.

Peeling off the bark revealed a layer of fiber sticking to it. This was last year’s crop; having endured dry, rainy, and snowy seasons, the fibers were still usable. Bai Shuo gathered these fibers and started twisting hemp rope. After just two twists, his palms began to ache.

The wheat from the day before had mostly been hulled by family members, as the cubs’ hands were too tender compared to these tough plants. Bai Shuo looked at his reddened palms and the raw materials, then grabbed a small stick, twisted some fiber onto it, and began rotating the stick. This slowed the speed but spared his hands.

Not far off, Bai Le, playing with other cubs, noticed this and ran over, asking, “Brother, what are you doing?”

Bai Shuo’s eyes lit up—an eager helper was always welcome.

“It’s fun. Want to try?”

Without hesitation, Bai Le nodded.

Bai Shuo handed him the stick. “Here, turn it.”

The simple-minded younger brother complied eagerly.

“Wrong way, wrong way, turn right. Right hand moves this way. Twist and wrap at the same time. Yes, just like that.”

Child labor added.

With Bai Le’s help, Bai Shuo’s pace quickened. He only needed to smooth the fibers and control the speed.

Bai Le had never seen this before and twisted with great effort, even stronger than Bai Shuo. Checking their work, Bai Shuo saw that Bai Le’s rope was tighter but less even—a minor issue that would improve with practice.

Soon, a roughly made hemp rope was finished.

Bai Shuo tested it—it was sturdy and didn’t unravel. He began making the next one.

Bai Le, curious, asked, “Brother, what’s this?”

“Hemp rope.” Bai Shuo simply called this plant ‘hemp’ and the product ‘hemp rope.’ No one cared much about the name.

They made three ropes in total. Bai Shuo used the longest to tie the stone knife to the branch, then tested it by digging. The first attempt was loose due to the angle, so he retied and dug again.

A small hole appeared in the soil.

It was indeed less laborious than digging with just a stone or knife.

After several tries to confirm its usefulness, Bai Shuo gathered all the stone and bone knives they had and made three simple hoes. Then he went to the places the cubs had mentioned yesterday to dig up onions.

They had used onions in last night’s cooking, either as garnish or to remove fishiness. The results were good. He planned to transplant these onions closer to the cooking area, so he could harvest leaves as needed while letting them continue growing.

This task required patience. The onions couldn’t be broken off. Using stone knives or sticks was tricky, but the modified hoes made it easier—though he still had to be careful not to hurt his feet.

Bai Shuo found Bai Su, and together they carefully dug out the onions with surrounding soil and transplanted them downhill.

The flat area below was large, surrounded by a ring of grassland without trees, beyond which lay the forest—plenty of space to transplant onions.

Bai Shuo divided the grassy area into several plots for future planting of different crops.

While transplanting the second batch of onions, Bai Shuo suddenly spotted a familiar plant.

Red berries.

More precisely, saplings of immature red berries.

Red berries were tuber-like foods similar to sweet potatoes, growing underground. The largest weighed several pounds, the smallest over half a pound, and they were one of the few foods the tribe could store long-term.

The saplings looked a bit different from sweet potato sprouts, but Bai Shuo had learned to find commonalities between plants from both worlds during this time, so he recognized them quickly.

To confirm, he dug deeper and indeed uncovered a shriveled red berry.

The surprise was so sudden that Bai Shuo nearly froze.

Bai Su hadn’t initially noticed Bai Shuo’s actions until he saw the unearthed red berry and was startled.

“Shuo, put it back quickly!” he said, starting to cover it with soil. Seeing no one else nearby, he relaxed.

Bai Shuo was surprised by his brother’s reaction.

“Brother, it’s a red berry.”

“Yes, it’s a red berry, so it must be quickly buried,” Bai Su explained. “You can only dig red berries after the growing season ends. That’s when they’re largest. The ones now aren’t tasty.”

This was common knowledge among the cubs. Older ones often reminded the younger not to dig these up lest they starve during the snowy season.

Bai Shuo had missed learning this because he had spent much of the past years in his feather form, staying in the nest.

Still, hearing Bai Su’s words, he understood the cause and effect. Digging up last year’s red berries early in the season would reduce the later harvest. This was a lesson the Feather Clan had learned over many years. Though red berry leaves were edible, the harvest team avoided picking them to ensure the tubers could be dug later.

Looking at the saplings before him, Bai Shuo considered how few foods could be stored through the snowy season. The wet rainy season caused many foods to mold and rot, but red berries resisted decay and grew large, making them valuable.

Yet the harvest team rarely encountered red berries. Bai Shuo only ate them a few times a year.

Despite their resemblance to sweet potatoes and similar habits, their yield was surprisingly low. Observing the plants around them, Bai Shuo realized that although red berries were hardy, so were the surrounding plants. All plants had to rapidly reproduce during the short growing season, some even twice. Between the deep-rooted trees and ubiquitous weeds, no plant could dominate.

If a dedicated plot were cleared for red berries... recalling sweet potato yields, Bai Shuo’s breath caught.

They had to cultivate them.

This year, they absolutely could not starve through the snowy season.

Bai Shuo grabbed his brother’s arm. “Brother, I want to move them downhill, like the onions! More water there means higher yield.” Red berries, like sweet potatoes, could propagate by cuttings. If left alone, one sapling would only yield about a dozen pounds. But planting and propagating them downhill would result in countless dozens of pounds. Even if individual yields were lower than in the wild, the total harvest would more than make up for it.

Bai Su hesitated. “What if others don’t agree?” Though he supported Bai Shuo’s plan, others might not.

Bai Shuo thought it over. Onions and wheat could be freely dug or picked because they weren’t on the harvest team’s list. No matter how much was taken, no one complained. But red berries were different—the harvest team strictly forbade unauthorized digging. If he got caught...

“Brother, you go back first. I’ll dig them up. If caught, just say I didn’t know.” This wasn’t a lie—before Bai Su mentioned the rule, Bai Shuo really didn’t know. They could transplant the saplings before the harvest team returned and use this excuse if discovered.

Bai Su was surprised but quickly decided, “I’ll help you dig them first.” Since his brother was determined, he’d assist. When back in the tribe, they’d say the saplings were already dug up and buried. That logic made sense, so Bai Su didn’t hesitate.

The brothers exchanged a glance, eyes fixed on the red berry saplings, then began digging.

“What are you digging?” a sudden voice startled them.

Bai Shuo looked up to see Wu Yan and relaxed a bit. He briefly explained, “I want to dig these up and transplant them downhill, trying a different method. If anyone asks, just say you only saw me. Don’t mention my brother.”

While talking, Bai Shuo kept working; the hoe was better than a knife but still a simple tool, so speed was essential. After finishing one sapling, they moved to the next.

Wu Yan nodded, glanced at the tools beside them, and asked, “Can I use that?”

Bai Shuo nodded. He had brought all three hoes as backups, in case the rope broke or other problems arose. The hemp rope was quite sturdy. Wu Yan could borrow one if needed.

Wu Yan picked up a hoe, observed their technique, and without hesitation began digging the nearby red berry sapling. He initially thought the two brothers were just passing by, so his surprise was mild.

Wu Yan didn’t care about their gazes and worked with similar vigor.

Having a helper was better than none. Bai Shuo welcomed the assistance, and the three finished digging that area before moving on to others nearby.

Bai Su was familiar with the area and recalled quite a few sapling locations even if not all.

Together, the three dug up over a dozen saplings but stopped not due to scarcity, but because digging more would be hard to explain. If caught, blaming Bai Shuo alone would be suspicious. Digging too many would draw unwanted attention.

They placed the freshly dug saplings in the shade under trees, covered with leaves, preparing to carry them back.

The trio quietly planted the red berry saplings near the onions, surrounding them with a ring of onions so the saplings were unnoticeable from a distance.

When the hunting and harvesting teams brought back food, it belonged to the tribe. But items gathered individually, like fruits the cubs picked themselves, belonged to them personally. So Bai Shuo’s onions wouldn’t be taken by others.

This area was remote and pathless, rarely visited, making it relatively safe.

The cubs had been unusually busy these past two days. The adult Feather Clan members were accustomed and didn’t pay much attention to their activities.

Following Bai Shuo’s instructions, Bai Su and Wu Yan laid the red berry saplings flat in the soil and planted some cuttings nearby. Using bamboo tubes as watering tools, they thoroughly watered the saplings.

“Shuo, will this work?” Bai Su eyed the fragile-looking saplings, fearing they’d wither by tomorrow.

“Let’s try. I don’t know if they’ll survive,” Bai Shuo said honestly. Theory and practice differed. He had considered everything he could. If it failed, there was no other choice. If luck ran out and the transplantation died, he’d quietly repay the tribe with the wheat he had planted, he thought privately.

Wu Yan regarded Bai Shuo. From the start, he had felt Bai Shuo was unlike any other cub he’d met. That feeling was even stronger now.

“Big brother, brother, what are you doing?” suddenly interrupted a voice.

The brothers, focused on the red berry saplings, were startled. Wu Yan, watching Bai Shuo, was also surprised.

The scene felt familiar to all three.

They turned to see Bai Le and breathed a small sigh of relief.

Though eventually they would be discovered, being found out now was better than later.

Bai Shuo patted his startled brother’s chest and began to coax him, “We’re planting vegetables. Later, I’ll make delicious food for you. But you mustn’t tell anyone. If others find out, you won’t get to eat it.”

Hearing this, Bai Le immediately covered his mouth and shook his head vigorously, promising not to tell.

Bai Shuo knew his brother well. He might forget other things, but anything about food was etched clearly in his memory. No matter how others asked, he wouldn’t reveal the secret.

The alarm was lifted, and they had an extra helper. Though only three years old, Bai Le’s strength was a valuable asset.

To prevent their secret group from growing to five, the three older cubs and one younger quickly relocated and planned watering duties for the next day.

The following day, their watering group was discovered by Cai Hong, and the team grew by one.

On the third day, the watering team expanded to six members.

By the fourth day, it became a full watering troop.

For cubs who spent their days picking up branches and wandering, the tribe had no secrets. They could turn the whole tribe upside down, digging out ant nests, let alone the seedlings Bai Shuo had transplanted.

Bai Shuo could only repeat his earlier instructions if discovered—keep it secret and don’t tell others.

The good news: the adults in the tribe still didn’t know.

The bad news: everyone else did.