The Kid is being very careful with rations. There's several dozen people on this island now, and probably limited resources. It's like back during long tours of the Wall, rationing your supplies as best you can to make it to the next outpost. Sometimes there's no choice but to go days without eating.

He nods. "Fair 'nuff."

Flint is going to be hard to come by, he knows. Rubbing sticks together works just fine--it's just tiresome. He takes the rope and sets it in his pack.

"Bow drill'd be fine." He pauses, squinting slightly. "Wha's...trans-mew...what ya said?"