For safety's sake, Altaïr generally began looking for a campsite and preparing to set up camp as soon as the sun started sinking in the west.
They found a small clearing in the forest. The ground was relatively high, so even at high tide, there was no need to worry about seawater reaching them.
The exposed roots of a giant mangrove twisted and spread across the ground, forming a cage-like structure. With a lining of branches and leaves, it became a ready-made tent.
Altaïr and Morgan took charge of setting up the temporary camp, gathering firewood, and lighting the campfire.
Isis, meanwhile, pulled Sajji along and headed south toward the coast. Earlier, she had heard him mention that plenty of Hermitaur were active near the shore, and she was craving crab.
Although Hermitaur at this time of year lacked the prized roe and tomalley that gourmands considered the finest parts, their claws and legs would still make a fine meal, far better than gnawing on hard, dry rations.
As for the Daimyo Hermitaur that might be lurking beneath the sandy beach... it had better not show itself.
Hunters on investigation quests enjoyed considerable freedom to make their own decisions. If one attacked her, killing a Daimyo Hermitaur in self-defense would be no great concern; even the Guild would not fault her once they learned what had happened.
The last time, Isis had missed out on the giant crab claw she wanted, so a small part of her was actually hoping one would appear...
Unfortunately, no Daimyo Hermitaur hiding beneath the sand answered her hopes. After she raised her Glavenus Gunlance and skewered two Hermitaur in quick succession, the rest scattered in every direction or burrowed into the sand and vanished.
By the time she and Sajji returned to camp carrying a pile of wok-sized claws and legs as thick as an adult's arm, Altaïr and the others had built up a roaring campfire.
"Altaïr, look. How should we cook these?" Isis piled the claws and legs in front of him.
Altaïr was not surprised in the least. The moment he saw Isis dragging Sajji away earlier, he had known she was going to make trouble for the Hermitaur.
Over the past few days, this division of labor had become routine: Altaïr set up the tent, Morgan gathered firewood and started the fire, and Isis collected ingredients.
"Crustaceans, huh? I've never actually cooked them before," Altaïr said, rubbing his chin. As usual, he pulled out his notebook, flipped through it, confirmed that it contained no relevant recipe, and tucked it away again.
"But steaming or boiling them should be simple enough, right? Wasn't the crab Senior Az served us in Moga Village cooked that way?"
"You can grill them too," Morgan added in his usual flat tone. "Back in my hometown, people sometimes grilled Shogun Ceanataur legs.
"Hermitaur and Shogun Ceanataur are closely related, so the difference shouldn't be too great."
Altaïr perked up. "Sounds good. We don't have any cookware large enough to steam or boil these claws and legs, so let's grill them.
"Why don't you show us how?" He held out a crab leg to Morgan.
Morgan did not take it. A hint of awkwardness flickered across his usually impassive face. "I've never actually done it myself."
"I only remember watching my mother split a Shogun Ceanataur leg lengthwise when I was little, pry off one side of the shell, and place it directly over the charcoal. When it was nearly done, she would sprinkle some seasoning over it.
"It smelled incredible."
Isis's mouth was practically watering just from listening to him.
"Doesn't sound too complicated." Altaïr pulled out his Carving Knife, carefully wiped it with a clean cloth, then split a crab leg and broke away one side of its shell.
The cut exposed grayish, translucent crabmeat with a jelly-like texture.
"Why is it that color? Isn't crabmeat supposed to be snow-white?" Isis could not help asking.
"Only after it's cooked," Altaïr replied impatiently.
They had no suitable wire rack for the crab legs, and placing them directly over the blazing campfire risked burning them, so Altaïr used his knife to rake out several glowing coals from beneath the fire.
He laid the split crab leg over the coals with the meat still cradled in half its shell, then prepared the second leg the same way.
As the heat roasted them, a peculiar toasted aroma filled the air, mingled with the scent of chitin scorching over the coals.
The two strips of crabmeat contracted slightly and gradually turned an appetizing snow-white. Altaïr sprinkled them with some premixed seasoned salt.
"All right, try them." Altaïr gestured invitingly.
"There's no way these could taste bad!" Isis's eyes lit up as she grabbed one leg; even the scalding heat against her fingertips was not enough to make her let go.
She blew on it and quickly juggled the roasted leg between her hands. Once it had cooled a little, she pinched the edge of the crabmeat, intending to tear off a small piece and check the seasoning first.
Instead, she pulled the entire strip of meat cleanly away from the shell.
"Whoa!"
The heavy piece of crabmeat wobbled in her hand, threatening to break apart, so she lunged forward and caught it in her mouth.
The heat burned her tongue. She hissed, "Sss! Hah!" but still managed to exclaim, "Delicious!"
Altaïr nodded toward the other crab leg, signaling Morgan to eat it while it was hot.
Morgan did not reach for it immediately. A rare look of nostalgia crossed his normally expressionless face. "Fresh Shogun Ceanataur legs were very expensive. Once a year, on my birthday, my mother would go to the market and buy one.
"She always claimed she didn't like them and made me eat the whole thing. I didn't realize until I was older that she simply couldn't bear to eat any herself."
"So you really like grilled crab legs, meow?" Sajji asked, tilting his head.
"Mm," Morgan replied reflexively.
"Is that also why you use Piercing Crab, a Shogun Ceanataur Heavy Bowgun, and wear the Seltas Queen Gunner Set, meow?"
"No. Not at all. Besides, Seltas Queen is a Neopteron, which is quite different from a Shogun Ceanataur," Morgan replied earnestly.
Altaïr's head began to ache. "Enough nonsense. Eat it before it burns."
Morgan carefully took the roasted leg with a wistful sigh. "Hermitaur and Shogun Ceanataur may be different species, but their legs smell exactly the same."
He solemnly thanked Altaïr, laid the leg across his knee with the meat still resting in its shell, clasped his hands together, and closed his eyes with great ceremony. Whether he was praying or performing some other ritual was impossible to tell.
Altaïr shook his head and continued grilling the crab legs.
By the time the second batch was halfway cooked, Morgan finally opened his eyes. He drew his pocketknife and fork, then prepared with a serene expression to enjoy a meal from his childhood.
Just as his utensils were about to touch the springy, snow-white crabmeat, a dark shadow swooped down, snatched the leg, and vanished.
Still holding his knife and fork, Morgan stared blankly at his now-empty knee with a dazed expression that looked almost pitiful.
"Thump!"
Two seconds later, the empty shell fell from the treetop, bounced off his shoulder, and landed beside him.
Morgan's eye twitched violently.
Veins bulged across his forehead as his expression twisted into a snarl.
He snatched up Piercing Crab from beside him, chambered a round with a sharp click-clack, and swung the muzzle toward the canopy overhead.
"Easy, easy! It was only one crab leg. There's plenty more." Altaïr quickly pushed his hand down and tried to reason with him.
Isis peered up in amazement at the dark treetops beneath the night sky. "What was that? Did any of you see it clearly?"
"It looked... sort of like a large bird, meow?" Clawdia said uncertainly.
Sajji craned his neck as well. "I thought it looked more like a large bat, meow. Whatever it was, it could fly and wasn't very big, meow."
Nearby, Altaïr finally managed to calm Morgan down. Morgan reined in his temper and returned to his usual impassive expression.
Still, the tension radiating from him felt oppressive.
Crab legs cooked quickly. After the delay, the second batch on the coals was ready.
Altaïr picked up another leg, sprinkled it with seasoned salt, and handed it to Morgan with a half-joking warning. "Eat it while it's hot, before something else snatches it away."
Morgan accepted the leg and thanked him.
As though determined to complete the interrupted ritual, he laid the second leg across his knee, clasped his hands together, closed his eyes, and began to pray.
Assuming it was some custom from Morgan's homeland, Altaïr did not pry. He merely pushed several more coals out from the campfire to speed up the cooking.
Otherwise, there would not be enough to feed everyone.
The night breeze off the sea was strong. By the time Morgan finished his prayer, the leg on his knee had cooled considerably. He picked up his utensils again.
Silent and swift, the dark shadow swooped down once more.
Just as it was about to seize the roasted leg, Morgan raised his left hand slightly. A spring twanged, launching a large net from the Slinger on his left arm and trapping the shadow.
The shadow tumbled to the ground beside the campfire, struggling and screeching desperately.
Morgan set the roasted leg aside, brushed off his trouser legs, and slowly rose. Then he picked up the loaded Heavy Bowgun beside him and walked toward the creature caught in the net.
His expression was cold, and his gaze was terrifying.
(Translated by yourtl.app)