Day Seventy: Rebuilding the Homeland (Part Four)

To reach the small mountain, one must always pass by the riverside and cross through that patch of woods.

The water in the river flowed quietly, now crystal clear, no longer muddied as before. Since the large fish disappeared last time, none had reappeared, but there were plenty of tiny fry, very small—only as long as a fingernail. Whether they hatched from the eggs of those big fish was uncertain, but they swarmed like tadpoles, clustering thickly in groups.

These little fish held no interest for me, not even enough to fill a tooth gap. However, the clear water did attract us. We stepped into the river for a thorough wash, pulling the little black one along to scrub away the grime from its body as well.

Bathing was a refreshing ritual. After it, I felt my entire being renewed, the weariness melting away. The little black one, once clean, dashed off without waiting for me to call, vanishing in a blur.

Entering the woods, my thoughts turned to the strange disappearance of the little black one yesterday, causing a sudden spike in my vigilance. Several times, lizards appeared unexpectedly, unknown small creatures crawled by, and startled birds flew away, all tightening my nerves sharply.

Yet, all was well—no danger materialized, no odd occurrences—except that I was nearly frightened into flight by a single bird.

When I first saw it, my heart truly leapt in shock. I genuinely thought it was a little person! Yes, a tiny human! Not because my eyesight was poor, but because that cursed bird spread its wings, ruffled its feathers, and danced on the ground, croaking loudly as it moved.

At that moment, I was utterly bewildered. Perhaps I hadn’t observed carefully enough, and maybe subconsciously, I linked this to the little black one’s disappearance, making me believe little indigenous people had appeared here. Even if they were tiny natives, I shouldn’t have fled. Reflecting now, I can only blame myself for scaring myself.

Only when I stepped back two paces did the bird notice me and take flight, allowing me to see it clearly.

Its tail resembled that of a bird-of-paradise, its plumage a shade of gray-black—perhaps it was a species of bird-of-paradise. A false alarm, after all. For such matters, I realized I must gradually learn and understand. Next time, I certainly wouldn’t be so easily frightened.

Though the sun had been out for two days, the woods remained dim due to the dense canopy, letting little sunlight through. The forest floor stayed damp, with fallen leaves rotting into nourishment for fungi. A variety of mushrooms vied for attention, many small insects perched greedily on their caps, feeding voraciously. Beneath almost every decaying leaf, small bugs sought refuge. I’d crush a step and watch them scatter, tiny flying insects often bumping into my face and body, or resting and crawling upon me.

I had grown accustomed to this. Unlike when I first arrived and had to shake them off every time, now a simple flick or swipe sufficed. I wouldn’t waste time shaking myself before moving on. There were simply too many—remove one, and another or a group would come right after.

Of course, mosquitoes were abundant too, but after the initial days of frequent bites, for some unknown reason, they seemed to bite me less often. This puzzled me greatly.

By the rocky mountain edge, rain had swept down many stones. I noticed the rabbits growing more active, but also discovered their natural enemies. Along the way, I spotted two snakes feasting on rabbits. I wasn’t sure if they were pythons or anacondas, but each was about as thick as my calf. One coiled around a rabbit, not yet eating, while the other had already swallowed half its prey.

I had no intention of provoking them. Perhaps due to recent rains, snakes were especially lively in the woods, or maybe the abundance of food kept them active. When they saw me, they mostly chose to flee. I wanted no trouble either, so we passed by quietly, leaving each other undisturbed.

There were countless stones; even ten or twenty more trips wouldn’t clear them all. After filling a plastic crate, I dragged it along as before. The midday sun blazed fiercely, and after a few steps, sweat poured down.

This was when the woods’ advantage shone—shade and coolness. Despite many dangers, carefulness kept me safe all the way.

On the return by the river, I witnessed another amusing scene: the water’s surface was teeming with countless tiny flying insects—millions, perhaps. They were minuscule and flew very low, almost skimming the water.

On several large stones by the riverbank, small lizards had gathered. They looked barely longer than my fingers but numbered in the hundreds—possibly a hundred or more. I wondered how they caught those tiny insects. The lizards hopped like on a trampoline, rising and falling in waves, each jump likely securing a small insect.

By day’s end, many of those tiny flies would have been eaten by the lizards.

This little episode was the sole entertainment I had, so I took a moment to rest and reflect. These lizards, with such endurance and perseverance, devoured those minute flies one by one. How then could I not strive diligently?

Suddenly, my spirits lifted, filled with renewed energy and determination. After hauling the crate of stones to the treehouse, I ran back for another load.

That should suffice. Looking at the pile of stones by the treehouse door, I nodded. Now I could begin work on the lower level.

The ground beneath the treehouse was interlaced with drainage ditches dug during the last rain. I had no intention of filling these pits yet since the stones needed to be laid first.

I carried the stones in one by one, arranging them neatly. Of course, they were uneven; stepping on them as they were would be difficult. This was only the first step. I still needed to cover the stones with soil, raising the ground level significantly. The stones had to be stacked neatly, their flat sides aligned upwards—toward the roof.

Transporting soil was not hard, though digging was tiring. This task took about three hours, until all the stones lay buried beneath the soil. Once the soil was firmly packed, the flat sides of the stones would appear as a smooth surface. Later, I would cover the gaps between stones with pebbles, ensuring the area wouldn’t turn muddy in rain.

Next came the stove…