Sixth Son: Villager in Another World 19

In addition to the clay, I needed a fuel to fire the pots. Not wanting to raid my family's supplies, I gathered some branches to make some charcoal. Since it had not rained, the wood was fairly dry.

I worked on a cloudless Sunday a short distance up from the creek. I stripped down to my skivvies. I stacked the wood in a pile, then covered it with mud from the creek bed, making sure that there was a small hole up top to keep the fire going and a small hole in the front to light up.

I used a cordage made from spruce roots, a creek stone, and a stick to make a fire bow. Some minutes of diligent spinning later, the friction ignited an ember. I transferred the ember to a palmful of dried hay, then moved it to the wood in the oven. The trick to making charcoal was to have enough fire going to drive off the water and leave behind blackened carbon, without igniting the pile into a full fire.

I worked near the creek to keep the fire in check. While the charcoal smoked away, worked on sharpening a second hatchet head.

Sixth Son: Villager in Another World 18

Helen helped me find a sturdy oak branch to mount the hatchet on. We were delighted when we found that it would actually chop wood. The hatchet was stored at her place, since Quartus or Quintus would probably "borrow" it. 

Helen also figured out how to make arrowheads, but was far more interested in practicing shooting than flint knapping. I ended up making eight of the next dozen. We built a firepit near the big stone to straighten out service berry bush branches. She took care of the fletching and assembly herself, since that would affect the arrows' flight. With a baker's dozen of arrows in an worn quiver, she quickly took off into the forest after lessons. I did not see as much of her for a spell.

Meanwhile, I reverted back to my original course of making ink. I managed to get some feathers for quills from Helen. The birch bark had been bleached in the summer sun. The last component needed was ink, and to make the ink, I would would need a pot. I headed back to the creek.

There had been few pieces of hard flint that I could find and reach in the creek bead. Instead, there had been soft stone that fell apart under my grasp. Underneath those eroded masses was clean clay, free of organic particles. Now, I needed fuel that would be hot enough to cast & glaze some earthenware pots for the ink.

Sixth Son: Villager in Another World 17

Dad and Ma exchanged looks across the table. They must have thought that it was important enough for Dad to spare a few of his scarce words.

"What do you want it for?"

I held up a finger for him to hold. I retrieved a small stone hatchet head, mimed the action of pushing against the edge, then ran my finger over the head as if testing the edge. Dad seemed curious enough to go and retrieve the nail from the mantle place.

I knelt near the hearth for light near Dad. I turned my hand palm downward and applied pressure upward. Pieces of stone flicked off. After several flakes, I flipped over the stone. The iron nail was far more precise and had made a better edge than striking flint against flint.

Dad held out his hand. I put the stone in his hand. Primus came over as well.

"What is that?" Primus asked.

"I reckon that it's a hatchet head."

Primus took it and flipped it around.

"I suppose that it is one."

He handed it back to me. I held up the nail.

"Keep it, son," Dad said.

I smiled and nodded my head to him. My other brothers took turns glancing at the stone before we went to bed.

The next day, I split a branch with the hatchet head and bound the nail tightly at the end of a carved stick with some cordage. The tool was called an Ishi stick and would give me better control over the flaking of the stone.

Sixth Son: Villager in Another World 16

Helen called out to me. Since it was shorter than Sextus, she just called me by the vernacular.

"Hey Six, did you make this?" she asked.

She held the arrow up to me just below the tip. I nodded.

"It shoots pretty well," she said. "How did you make it?"

First I mimed striking stone against stone, then sharpening them against each other. Helen nodded as she followed my motions.  I pointed to a stone the size of a block, to the spot near the big rock. Since my staff was awkward, I leaned it against a tree away from a road, before taking my position on one side of the blocky stone. She shouldered her bow, stuck the arrow back into her quiver, and took the other side.

Helen let me lead. She even took the lower of our burden as we sidled our way up the trail. We set the stone next to the big rock that I intended to use as an anvil.

"Need anything else?" she asked.

We ended up moving a coarser stone to flank the anvil rock and an armful of smaller stones. I sat on the anvil and showed her how to strike the flint downward to fracture it, picked out a promising piece, and began removing the bits that did not look like an arrowhead.

Helen studied my hands closely as I chipped away. After finishing the tail and half of th head, I handed the piece to her and emphasized that she had to use small motions and work away from herself. She took off a bit too much on one side. Her lips made a mou of displeasure. I pointed to the other side, so she took off more to  balance it. The arrowhead was fairly well shaped even if it was a bit small.

The sky had darkened to the point when we had to call it a night. While eating my simple meal, I thought about our experience. Chipping out the small flakes to make an arrowhead would be far more precise if we had thin, hard rod to focus the pressure rather than relying on another stone. Knowing my father, I recalled that there was probably at least one such object in the house that I could use.

After dinner, I asked Dad for it, which made both his and Ma's eyes grow large.