White Rabbit

[Fiori]

The spaded end of Shawn's pickaxe dug deep into the ground, peeling the soil away as he dug a small hole.

((Shawn Bellamy continued from Let's Roll Up Our Sleeves))

He paused to wipe his brow, taking a step back to admire his handiwork. It wasn't particularly large, roughly the same volume as a shoebox, but for its intended purpose it was about perfect. Just the right size for someone to fit their entire foot inside. At this point he was getting pretty good at them, having spent the last several hours digging dozens just like it all across the forest.

A part of him still wondered if he should have remained at Chester's camp a little longer, maybe see how far he could've taken advantage of the boy's hospitality. Tempting as it was to see if he could make off with his bag, he figured in the end the risk wasn't worth the potential rewards, especially if he was expecting a friend to show up at some point. Besides, he didn't want to leave with any bad blood after all his helpful advice.

It was a nifty idea, he'd give him that. Albeit one with some fairly significant flaws, ones he may have neglected to flag up. Didn't want to discourage him, after all. Best case scenario Chester somehow manages to call in help and they all get rescued. Worst case... Well, less competition to worry about. Either worked with him.

Still, he maybe could've remained at his old camp a while longer, though it didn't take him long to find somewhere else to stop and do some prepwork for his little project. The results of which were bundled up in his bag.

Kneeling down beside the hole he'd just dug, he reached into his duffel bag and produced six small but firm sticks, each snapped in half with the ends filed down into sharp points. Well, one seemed a bit too blunt, Shawn pulling his jagged rock out from his pocket to roughly sharpen it some more. In an ideal world he'd use a knife for this, but the end result was likely good enough to get the job done.

Next he poked that stake deep into the hole with the pointy end sticking upwards, digging where need be and securing it so that it was stuck out at vicious angle. Rinse and repeat with the others, and before long he was done.

The result: A poor man's attempt at a punji pit trap. Nothing special compared to the kind that gave Vietnam vets flashbacks, he had to make do with what was available after all. Nor was it likely to ever actually kill anyone, not unless they were horrifically unlucky. But at the end of the day, it didn't have to kill to make an impact. If anything, it'd be rather inconvenient if it did, and his intentions outed to the rest of the island. One wrong step and someone was in for a bad day, and his chances of winning this thing went up without anyone being non the wiser.

Lastly, he gathered a mix of snow and leaves to cover the pit up, gently patting it down until it blended nicely into it's surroundings. To think such a nasty little trap could be so easy to set up, with dozens just like it scattered throughout the woods, half of which he'd already forgotten the location of.

He glanced up at the sunset, just barely visible in the distance as the forest around him grew darker. Perhaps it was time to leave these woods far behind.

His trap set, he stood tall and hoisted his pickaxe over his shoulder, taking care with every cautious step as he left to seek some shelter for the night.

((Shawn Bellamy continued in Shawn's Marvelous Medicine))