I was born into an eve camp that didn’t have a lot of tools but we had a bunch of iron. My eve mom had collected it and I added to the collection but didn’t forge it as I had a mission
I wanted to make the new bear stew to keep my decently sized family alive. I spent my childhood farming milkweed and making arrows.
When I was old enough I killed one and gave it to my last surviving family member. She wasn’t very grateful but used the skin for a hat for her son and a coat for herself.
I noticed we still didn’t have many tools, just an ax and one shovel I made earlier. So I start firing some up when my niece comes over and starts screaming at me asking what stupid ■■■■ I’m making and that she needs to make a fence.
I tried to tell her I made things to make a fence but she didn’t listen. She kept verbally abusing me until I left. There was still a lot of iron left over for her to forge with. All I did was make three important tools for our family to survive. And it wasn’t like I used all the iron we had left.
I looked on the tree after I died. She starved to death not long after. Maybe she was too busy verbally berating me to eat or maybe she didn’t want to eat the pies which did not belong to her.
As my late mother made those.