>>6122686>>6122712>>6122714>>6122740>>6122746>>6122762>>6122765It was the biggest goddamn Bowie Knife you'd ever laid eyes on. You're not sure if it could technically qualify as a machete or not - it definitely felt more like holding a shortsword more than a knife. It's a familiar thing, one that brings back a memory you'd long since forgotten...
<span class="mu-i">Your grandad is standing in front of you. You don't remember what his face looked like back then, but you remember that he was so much taller than you. You must have been pretty young when this happened - he's looking down at you and showing off his knife. Despite the clear age gap, he talks to you like he would anyone his own age, flipping the knife over and explaining what each part of it is for.
"Now, when you're looking for a good tool that'll get you through the shit-"
"Dad!" Your father's voice cuts him off. "Not in front of him, for god's sake."
Your grandfather turns, pointing at the figure that you don't look at - you're too transfixed on the blade. "You can tell me what to do when you can put me on my ass, boy. Until then, I'll talk how I want to who I want. Hell, I said worse when I was raising you, and you turned out alright."
Your father sighs with exasperation, walking off while muttering something about "Not being able to deal with this right now". He always tended to walk away from confrontation like that, you remember.
"Now, as I was saying, you're gonna wanna get yourself something sturdy above all else. If your shit breaks on you, you may as well have not had it at all. You don't gotta get fancy with it, but a good knife will do just about everything you need out in the wilderness. Don't need no axe unless you're cutting lumber to build a house, son. Notches? They'll just mess up what you're doing, and make the blade weaker. If you get a heavier knife, you can actually let it do most of the work for you. Don't let those 'lightweight survivalists' convince you of their bullshit, you end up saving yourself some pounds by not having to pack an axe or a dozen other tools. You just need the one."</span>
You turn the knife over in your hands, the memory fading once more into the background. Seeing that he left a sheathe for it as well, you take a moment to attach it properly to your belt, and put the treasured heirloom where it belongs. You wonder if he knew about what's going on out here in the woods or not - and if he did, why would he leave the cabin to you? Something to wonder about later, you suppose. It's getting too dark to stay out here any longer.
You lock the truck up and head back inside, finding Ishmael in the kitchen, brewing a pot of something. Your nose tells you that it's some kind of stew. You'd never admit it to the old bastard, but it smells delicious.
"Wood collecting go fine?" You ask.
"Mmhm. Got yer truck back yet, or did you give up?" He replies, not looking back at you.
