I am only a little Gypsy 1 - Reincarnation, does it exist? - 17. Chapter 17. My built-in little trapper boy starts helping.

Feeling both frustrated and angry, I left Misha, stomped towards our green-and-golden Royal caravan, and forcefully kicked it a couple of times whilst muttering loudly. Why didn't my still too tiny 'infant' body want to grow up faster, so that I finally could have my first 'growth spurt', just like every other 'normal' kid my age seemed to have from time to time, at least according to Misha? And, why was my 'little runt' body still staying too small and too immature to be able to listen to my full bladder at night? Now, I couldn't even demonstrate my newly found spicy herbs to my older friend Misha, and, of course, also to all my other older 'minor friends' who were now staring at me and chuckling at seeing my childish tantrum.

My Dad had clearly heard my kicking and muttering from inside our caravan, because he showed up in our doorway to take a look at what I was doing. Seeing my angry face, he sensed what could have happened and then tried to take me into his arms. When I refused, mainly because I was feeling too angry, he again told me to be 'more patient'. My time would surely come...

His response made me feel even more furious, so that I snarled at him:

"Why didn't Mom and you breed me a couple of years earlier? Now, I am still such an impossible little runt! I am finally able to help our minors by gathering new tasty spices for them, and I am still not allowed to join them into our surrounding woods to catch my own animals and to try out my newly found spices. I HATE this too tiny body that still refuses to become dry during the night and therefore prevents me from doing really important things..."

For quite some time, my Dad only stared at my angry looks and fire-shooting eyes, with a frustrated face. At last, he shook his head, turned around, and just went back into our caravan while closing its front door. By doing this, was my Dad silently telling me to stay outside until I had calmed down first? That would be understandable, as seen from my Dads disappointed point of view.

Fortunately, my flaring fury never lasted long. Soon, I forced myself to calm down by regulating my breath, stepped inside our caravan, and followed my Dad into our living room, where I climbed onto his lap without saying a word, and enjoyed the sensation of feeling his safe arms around my still slightly heaving waist. Of course, my lovable Dad had nothing to do with my childish anger! Soon, both my Dad and I forgot my frustration and silly tantrum, and we were best friends again.

The next morning, immediately after our usual group of minors disappeared into our surrounding woods again, I suddenly decided to DO something! First, I told my little 'infant friends' to leave me alone, because I had something more important on my mind. Then, I went into our surrounding bushes, where I started to gather many heavenly scenting herbs that 'told' me they would nicely spice Misha's roasted animals and also improve their rather bland taste. After testing again that my gathered herbs were absolutely harmless, I also tasted them critically, one by one. Again, the yucky herbs made me feel queasy, while the poisonous ones were radiating fear, sleep, darkness, or pure danger. Fortunately, my inherited 'sixth senses' never betrayed me, even after I was already quite a lot older and started to collect my tasty herbs and useful spices from other countries.

After some time, I returned into our caravan, now carrying several nicely scenting herbs, a few leaves, some colored flowers, and a little bit of greenish moss. Unfortunately, my parents weren't home yet, and I also didn't know in which particular caravan they could be. Therefore, I couldn't ask my Mom to help me chop my herbs into tiny pieces... What should I do now? Well, because I knew I was already very self-supported for an only four-year-old kid, I decided to start working on my herbs in advance, hoping that my Mom would return soon.

Feeling happy about my decision, I put my herbs into our kitchen sink, washed them thoroughly, and then dried them using our kitchen towel. Now that all my herbs were spotlessly clean, I only had to squash the leaves, squeeze the flowers, and slice the herbs into tiny pieces. Would I really be able to do that, without having my wary Mom around to help me if anything would go wrong? Of course, I was sure that my always-wary Mom would NEVER allow me to use her sharp kitchen knife, because she always told me I was still way too young to be able to handle such a dangerous thing. However, this was an emergency! Therefore, would I?

After quite a lot of pondering and deliberating, I finally decided that my bright brainiac brain was clever enough not to make any serious mistakes. Therefore, I just took my Mom's razor sharp kitchen knife and her wooden cutting board out of one of the closed kitchen drawers. Still rather hesitatingly, I first bundled my gathered herbs together into a wobbly string, and then positioned the string onto my Mom's wooden cutting board. Still feeling hesitant, I took my Mom's razor sharp kitchen knife into one slightly trembling hand, whilst at the same time trying to steer my wobbly herbs bundle with my other hand. Would I really be able to cut those unwilling herbs all on my own? Whilst trying not to cut my slightly trembling fingers, I just started to slice my still way too unwilling bundle of herbs into small pieces...

Exactly at that moment, and also without any warning at all, my untrained hands and fingers started to move all on their own! Only, I was absolutely sure that I had nothing to do with this. Whilst one hand steered my suddenly surprisingly willing bundle of herbs, my other hand used my Mom's sharp kitchen knife to chop the entire bundle of herbs into tiny pieces, at a truly astonishing speed! After chopping all my herbs into tiny pieces, both hands laid my Mom's sharp kitchen knife down onto the sink. Then they again started to listen to my own will, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened...

For several seconds, I could only gasp aloud from total disbelief. How... What... What, for heaven's sake, could have happened to my still trembling hands? Open-mouthed and feeling dumbfounded, I stared at the small pile of perfectly chopped herbs that was neatly put up on my Mom's wooden cutting board. Again, I looked down at my hands. How could my small hands ever have chopped such a wobbly bundle of herbs, all on their own and without any conscious help from me? That would be absolutely impossible, because I had never done such difficult things ever before! Perhaps, it hadn't been ME who had chopped my herbs this neatly, because I had never done anything like this before, and l also didn't have any cooking training at all?

Then, my bright brainiac brain restarted to think. Could someone else have chopped my herbs for me, perhaps by pulling my conscious mind into some sort of an 'induced trance'? Only, I also hadn't felt any outside influence from anybody else around me, except for that my hands suddenly seemed to be taken over by some unknown force that clearly knew exactly how to use my Mom's razor sharp kitchen knife! Of course, this was totally IMPOSSIBLE! Yet, the 'impossible' HAD happened, and somebody else HAD taken over my untrained hands and adeptly chopped my wobbly bundle of herbs for me!

Still feeling utterly surprised, my bright brain involuntarily started to think of the 'little trapper boy' that I had been in my past life. Could my inside have remembered my former cooking skills from then, as it also seemed to 'remember' I had once been a powerful Shaman and a Healing Mage? That would also explain why my inside suddenly 'remembered' all those unknown herbs that I was still sure I had never seen before in my present life! Well, if really my 'little trapper boy' from my past life had 'taken over' my hitherto untrained hands, he also had been extremely good at handling my Mom's wooden cutting board and her razor sharp kitchen knife!

Now, I also remembered that, during a nightly dream, my built-in 'little trapper friend' suddenly showed up and told me that, most of the time, he would stay hidden in my unconscious mind, unless I really needed his help. Only then would he show up in my inside and help me as best as he could, before he just disappeared again. I knew that he had already helped me become 'dry' during the day; and now he had also helped me chop my unwilling bundle of herbs! Feeling grateful, I thanked my 'little trapper friend' in my mind for helping me; but he didn't respond and only chuckled some, as usual.

Therefore, whilst I started to feel more and more enthusiastic, I also continued to think. What would happen if I asked my 'built-in little trapper friend' to show up again and help me with the rest of my herbs mixture? Would he again start helping me, by taking over my still trembling hands? Well, let's try this out immediately. First, I got a clove of garlic and a small onion from my Mom's kitchen stock. Then, I put them onto my Mom's wooden cutting board, took her sharp kitchen knife into one hand, and hesitatingly asked my built-in friend to help me.

Almost immediately, my little trapper friend took over and started to peel both the onion and the clove of garlic, again without any intervention from me. Adeptly, my small hands sliced the onion and smashed the clove of garlic, then mixed them together onto my Mom's cutting board, and finally laid my Mom's sharp knife down and just returned to my own control.

This time, I could no longer deny it. My built-in 'little trapper boy' from my past incarnation WAS helping me, by adeptly taking over my hands and steering them! Wow, such an unexpected 'help from my past life' could be a very useful 'extra ability'! Enthusiastically, I thanked my little trapper boy for helping me again; but again he didn't respond, or he didn't want to respond, because I could sense only some faint chuckling in my inside. Why was that? Didn't he talk with a human voice; or could there be another reason?

Still feeling enthusiastic, I scraped my onion-and-garlic mixture together with my already nicely scenting herbs mixture into a cup and mixed it some more. Then, I washed my Mom's wooden cutting board and sharp kitchen knife, dried them, and put them back into her kitchen drawer. After washing my hands and drying them, I took my cup of nicely scenting mixture and trotted outside. Again, I went to my usual wooden bench and sat down, this time putting my nicely scenting herbs mixture next to me. Now, I only had to wait until our group of 'minors' showed up from their surrounding woods...

Halfway through the afternoon, several very happy looking minors showed up our camp, this time acting even more enthusiastic than usual. Next to carrying their usual marmots and other edible critters, they also triumphantly carried an enormous porcupine towards our butchery! Within a second, I sat glued to the strange looking animal and stared in rapt at its razor sharp quills. Clearly, our wise Mother Nature had provided this particular beast with an extremely efficient defense system, probably to discourage any dangerous predators with sharp teeth. Only, its excellent defense system had not prevented it from being caught in Misha's cleverly hidden snare.

At that moment, my built-in 'little trapper friend' showed up in my inside and 'asked' me, still without using any audible words, if he please could help me? Well, why not? Hesitatingly, I went to Misha and just started to help him with his porcupine... Immediately when I did this, my 'built-in little trapper friend' took over completely, and, very much to my happiness, he let my two hands do exactly what they had to do, to avoid being pricked by all those very dangerous quills. At lightning speed, my hands started to tear quill after quill out of the dead beast and pile them next to each other, as if I were already an experienced trapper and could have done this all my life.

Looking utterly surprised, Misha stared at my suddenly more than obvious 'skills', but he didn't say a word and just let me do my things. In his consternation, he even forgot to help me, probably because he felt too surprised. Only after my little trapper friend and I had plucked the entire beast, so that it was completely bald, Misha woke up and started to help me skin it, whereby he also let me use one of his own sharp knives, still without objecting and even without looking wary!

Working together like this, we had cleaned his fat porcupine and washed it out in no time. Helped by a few strong older minors, we carried it to our campfire, where we first put the rather heavy carcass onto a sturdy wooden stake, and then put the stake over our already brightly glowing campfire; so that we could turn it around and around, whilst at the same time it could roast and brown nicely all over.

In the meantime, all the other minors had already prepared their own caught animals. Very much to my happiness, none of them ever commented on my helping one of their fellow minors; although they knew that I should be still too young to be allowed to do such things. Could it be that Misha was sort of their 'boss'? Or didn't they dare to comment on my ministrations, because they knew that I was our little Crown Prince and my Dad was our own Beloved Gypsy Leader...

Whatever the reason was, all my minor friends were again looking at me indulgently, while now and then smiling at me. They had also already gathered enough usual yellow leaves, so that they could spice both Misha's fat porcupine and their own readied animals with them, before roasting them over our campfire... Clearly, now was MY time to persuade them to try out my own nicely scenting herbs mixture! Quickly, I took my cup of herbs mixture from my bench and teasingly held it under Misha's already curiously sniffing nose. Whilst also trying to show him my best puppy dog eyes, I pleaded:

"Misha? Could you please use MY herbs mixture on your roasting porcupine? You only have to add some salt and a little bit of oil, to make my mixture sticky, and I am sure that your roasting porcupine meat will taste absolutely exquisite!"

For a few seconds, Misha seemed to hesitate, still looking utterly surprised. Then, he sniffed my nicely scenting herbs mixture again, whilst his eyes seemed to grow bigger and bigger! Suddenly turning towards his still busy friends, he called them together and told them:

"Please come here and take a sniff at this absolutely wonderfully scenting mixture! Have you ever scented such exquisite aroma? I think we should use it on our roasting porcupine instead of our usual yellow 'spice', and probably on all our other roasting animals as well."

Looking curious, several minors came over to take a look at my nicely scenting herb mixture. They took my cup, first sniffed at it, and then nodded in agreement with already watering mouths. However, after a couple second of being enchanted, a few minors started to look more warily. With doubtful voices, they asked the others:

"Although our little Prince's herbs mixture scents wonderful, how can we be sure he hasn't accidentally put some nice scenting poison ivy or pseudo chervil into it? I think we should first go to our Wise Woman and ask for her professional advice..."

By nodding their heads, all the others agreed, looking relieved now that they could be sure that my nicely scenting herbs mixture wouldn't unintentionally poison them or give them a nasty itching rash. In procession, all of us left the still waiting animals and went to our Wise Woman, to ask for her professional advice. Politely, Misha knocked on her caravan door, then stepped backwards a few paces, and waited. Soon, our Wise Woman showed up from her caravan door, looking a bit surprised. After stealthily winking at ME, she asked my older friends what she could do for them.

With a still surprised sounding voice, Misha explained everything to her. Our little Crown Prince seemed to have inherited sort of a 'sixth sense' from his past life as a 'little trapper boy' who, according to himself, was able to 'feel' or 'sense' unknown spicy herbs, and who also could 'detect' any yucky or dangerous plants. Now, his friends and he wanted to be sure that my nicely scenting herbs mixture would be absolutely harmless, before they started to use it. Could our Wise Woman please test my herbs mixture first, to play it safe, before they started using it on their roasting animals?

Again, our Wise Woman stared at me with her piercing dark eyes, whereby she entered my inside and contacted my soul plus several still hidden past lives, until she seemed to feel satisfied and again winked at me. Now, she took my cup of nicely scenting herbs mixture into both hands, 'sensed' its energy, and sniffed at it. She also smeared a little bit of my greenish mixture onto her hand and tasted it.

Finally, with a broadly smiling face, she told our minors:

"Well, I cannot find any harm in our little Crown Prince's nicely smelling and certainly exquisite tasting herbs mixture. Clearly, he has again used one of his inherited 'special gifts'! Could I please taste my own slice of roasted porcupine if there would be any leftovers?"

For a few more seconds, all our minors around me stayed silent and only stared at me in obvious wonder. Then, all of them started to cheer loudly, while Misha took me onto his shoulders and horsed me back to our campfire. Clearly, all of them were now really eager to taste my heavenly scenting herbs mixture on their roasting animals!

After we returned to our campfire, Misha first offered me their own bottle of baking oil, so that I could put a few drops of oil into my herbs mixture to make it sticky. Then, another minor handed me their brush, so that I could smear Misha's porcupine with some extra oil, a little bit of salt, and finally my tasty herbs mixture that immediately started to scent even more heavenly. Inwardly, I started to tremble with pride, because all my minor friends were now smearing their roasting animals with MY nicely scenting herbs mixture!

Whilst Misha turned his already nicely roasting porcupine around and around, I continued to smear it from time to time with even more baking oil and now and then also some more herbs mixture. Soon, a heavenly aroma started to waft into the air around us, making our mouths water and our hungry stomachs grumble aloud. Even a couple of grownups sniffed the air approvingly and asked us to be allowed to taste a slice of our heavenly scenting porcupine...

When our roasted porcupine was ready, a few strong minors lifted its carcass from its wooden stake and put it down onto our table. Adeptly, Misha divided its nicely roasted meat into several chunks and sliced the chunks into many smaller pieces. All my older friends took a piece of roasted porcupine meat and tentatively nibbled on it. Looking surprised, they took a much bigger nibble, and then a really huge bite. Smiling broadly, they took several more bites, whilst staring at their so clever little Crown Prince with almost reverence in their more and more proudly beaming eyes.

Very much to my delight, Misha's roasted porcupine turned out to taste absolutely exquisite. It certainly tasted quite a lot better than any of their own roasted and 'spiced' animals had ever tasted before now! Inwardly feeling relieved, I savored my own fat slice of heavenly tasting porcupine. Fortunately, everything had gone extremely well, because I hadn't made any serious mistakes with my clearly excellent choice of spicy herbs. Silently, I thanked my built-in 'little trapper friend' for helping me again, but he didn't answer and only chuckled some, as usual.

For quite some time, all my minor friends, plus a few hastily gathering grownups, marveled at the absolutely exquisite taste of our roasted porcupine meat. All of them savored their fat slices of roasted meat, and most of them took second and even third helpings. Still licking their fingers clean, they smiled broadly whilst assuring me that I had done a more than excellent job!

After finishing our meal, we first burped a few times, to thank the spirits of Misha's porcupine and my spicy herbs for giving us such exceptionally tasty meat. For quite some time, all my minor friends remained speechless whilst still enjoying its nice aftertaste. Now and then, they looked at their slightly blushing little Crown Prince with what looked like awe and reverence in their proudly beaming eyes; until they suddenly put their heads together and started to whisper.

By using my inherited Shaman abilities, I found out that they were whispering about ME. Why was that? Could I have done something wrong in their eyes; and would they now tell me to go home and leave them alone from now on, because I was still too young? After some more whispering; Misha left his again smiling group and approached me. Politely, almost reverently, he asked me to stand up...

Still very hesitatingly, I obliged. What did my new friend Misha want from me? Would he now kick me out of their group of minors, probably because I was still way too young to accompany them? Very much to my surprise, Misha suddenly lifted me onto his shoulders and horsed me around our campfire in triumph, while he cheered:

"Never before did we taste such deliciously spiced roasted meat! Therefore, Prince Harold, please accept our gratitude from the ground of our hearts, for what you did today for all of us. Now, all my minor friends and I have decided in unison to ask you to be our 'Chef Cook' from now on, so that you can go on gathering your exceptionally tasty spices for us. What do you think about that?"

At first, I couldn't say anything at all, because my suddenly wildly throbbing heart nearly burst with pride and my throat was choking up, so that I just couldn't talk anymore and therefore only nodded 'YES'. Wow! All of a sudden, all my new minor friends were asking ME to be their 'Chef Cook'! This was quite a lot more than I ever could have imagined, even in my wildest dreams... Yes, of course I wanted to go on helping them, by spicing their caught animals for them!

Carefully, Misha slid me down towards the ground, although my throat was still too choked up to give him an audible answer. Therefore, I continued to nod vigorously, until my fiercely wobbling head nearly fell off and my neck threatened to get a severe dislocation.

From now on, every afternoon, before my minor friends returned from our surrounding woods with their caught animals, I first entered our surrounding bushes, to gather several fresh herbs and to prepare them before my Mom returned home. Of course, I didn't want to cheat on my always-wary Mom, but I wasn't certain how she would respond to unexpectedly seeing me slicing my herbs using her 'too dangerous' sharp kitchen knife. Therefore, after collecting my spicy herbs, I just brought them home, washed them, and then used my Mom's sharp kitchen knife and wooden cutting board to chop and slice them. Only the first times, my built-in 'little trapper friend' took over completely, until I got the hang of it and was able to chop and squash my herbs all by myself. From then on, my built-in 'little trapper helper' took over only when I really needed his help or asked him for it.

Within a few days, I started to experiment with my gathered spices, by putting several different herbs together and trying to concoct even more refined tastes. Fortunately, probably by remembering my skills from my past life, I seemed to have a natural feeling for which herbs tasted good and what different spices I could mix together. Now and then, my experiments failed, so that we had to throw away a yucky tasting animal, but who cares? It was still mid-summer, so that our minors always caught plenty of animals as a replacement. Because I learned from every single new experience, my 'cooking skills' also vastly improved. To be honest, I also started to love my self-allotted task as our little 'Chef Cookie' more and more!

After a couple of days, my Mom suddenly called me into our kitchen. Pointing to her wooden cutting board, she asked me:

"Harold? What did you to my cutting board? Since a few days, it smells rather peculiar, but I am sure that neither your Dad nor I have anything to do with it..."

Feeling unsure, because I had been cheating on her, I responded:

"Sorry, Mom, for not cleaning your cutting board well enough, but I needed it to chop my spicy herbs into pieces."

Looking very surprised, my Mom exclaimed:

"What are you telling me now? YOU needed my cutting board to chop your herbs into pieces? Then, did you use my kitchen knife as well? Didn't I tell you many times before how extremely dangerous such a razor sharp knife is? I am sure that you are still way too young to handle such a risky thing all on your own!"

Trying not to burst out into tears, I explained:

"But, Mom... Please, don't be angry with me, because I NEED your knife and your cutting board! I am our 'Chef Cook' now, and I have to use it every afternoon to chop and mix my spicy herbs, so that my minor friends can use them on their roasting animals."

Now looking even more wary, my Mom asked me:

"Since when are YOU a 'Chef Cook'? Did our minors tell you this to make fun of you; and do you really believe them? For how long have they been making fun of your too small appearance and your too childish gullibility as their little 'chef cookie'?"

"MOHOM... Since a few weeks, they have promoted me to be our Chef Cook, and nobody has been making fun of me! Therefore, for the past two weeks, I have been gathering my tasty herbs, chopping them, and spicing their roasting animals every single afternoon!"

"Are you really helping our minors, although you are only four years old? And you want to use my sharp knife tomorrow again? Then, let me see your fingers. And your hands, and your arms..."

Sensing I could be winning my plea, I quickly spread my fingers out towards my still very wary looking Mom. One by one, she looked them over meticulously, but, of course, she couldn't find any cut or scratch on my entire body, not even the faintest old scar! Still not looking totally convinced, she hesitatingly went on:

"Well, I am still not convinced. Could you please try to show me what exactly you have been doing every day? I am still sure that an only four-year-old little boy is way too young to handle a dangerous knife without supervision, even if he is 'extremely bright' for his age and perhaps promoted to be sort of a 'chef cookie'..."

Feeling affronted because my Mom was calling me a 'little boy', I sprinted away, raced towards our surrounding bushes, and quickly gathered lots of nicely scenting tasty herbs. Soon, I came racing back into our caravan, and first washed my herbs in our kitchen sink. Then, I just took my Mom's cutting board and sharp kitchen knife out of her drawer, this time without asking her first. After also silently asking my built-in 'little trapper chef' to help me again, I just started to chop my bundle of herbs into tiny pieces at lightning speed, whilst adeptly steering them with my small fingers. I had also gathered a few tasty cloves and small pods, and squashed them expertly by using the side of the knife. Finally, I took an empty cup, and used the same huge knife to scrape my tasty herbs mixture into it.

All the time, my extremely surprised looking Mom stared at my lightning fast ministrations with bulging eyes and baited breath! Obviously, she never thought that her 'little boy' could be this good at handling such a dangerous kitchen knife without injuring any of his tiny fingers! Of course, my 'little trapper friend' had also showed off awfully, but my wary Mom didn't need to know that.

After my still very surprised looking Mom regained her hitherto stalled breath, she first had to swallow a couple of times to clear her suddenly hoarse sounding throat, before she uttered:

"My precious little chef, until now, I never knew that you could be such a skilled cook at such an extremely young age! Therefore, I am now truly sorry for doubting your unbelievable skills and your being a real 'Chef Cook', because your skillful demonstration convinced me. Therefore, from now on, I will allow you to use my sharp kitchen knife and wooden cutting board. Only, for heaven's sake, always look out with what you are doing, and please be very careful not to cut any of your fingers instead of your spicy herbs."

For a few seconds, I stared my Mom down in disdain, because she had called me her 'little chef'... Suddenly, I started to laugh at myself, because my still way too small body really was only a 'little cookie'! Ultimately, I WAS only four years and a couple of months old; and therefore I SHOULD be still way too young to handle such a razor sharp knife without at least some very close supervision.

At the same time, my inside felt truly proud that my always-wary Mom finally decided to trust her so-called 'little chef'! Therefore, I jumped up to her, first fiercely embraced her, and then told her I loved her dearly and that she absolutely was the very best Mom in the whole world. After cuddling some more, I also started to help my Mom cook her so-called 'healthy dinner', for the first time ever; and, of course, spiced by my own carefully selected tasty herbs.