Day Seventy-Two: Rebuilding the Homeland (Part Nine) — Additional Update for 1994fei23

Fortunately, today is another fine day. The very first thing I saw when I pushed the door open made me chuckle.

It was, of course, that little guy, Blackie. He was playing with his vine ball, pushing it away, pouncing to retrieve it, then pushing it away again—over and over.

My mind was still preoccupied with the potato seedlings and the seeds from the drift bottle, so I hurried over to check on them. The results were thrilling: having survived the storm, the seedlings were teeming with renewed vitality. The once-curled leaves had fully unfurled and grown significantly. Hope was not lost!

I prepared to head out to fell some trees. I needed a significant quantity this time. The ideal spot would have been near the fishing site, where the trees were thin and dense—the perfect size and length. Unfortunately, it was simply too far away. Transporting those saplings back would require immense physical effort and consume far too much time. That was not what I wanted.

The trees nearby were relatively thick, the smallest being as wide as an arm, which was a bit of a nuisance. However, due to their proximity, I cut them all down anyway. It took about two hours to fell twenty-three saplings. I hadn't processed them yet; dragging them back took another thirty minutes, and then I spent more time trimming the branches until only twenty-three bare trunks remained.

This number was still far short of my goal, but it was already noon. After a short rest and a quick meal of noodle soup that I shared with Blackie, I set out again.

There were no more suitable trees nearby—they were all too thick. I had no choice but to venture further. My second destination was the patch of woods where I had encountered the leeches. It was filled with small trees, but the drawback was the dense tangle of vines and undergrowth, which blocked out almost all the sunlight with their thick canopy.

The difficulties didn't end there. Most critically, there was often nowhere to set foot, as the ground was choked with thick vegetation. One wrong step, and a venomous snake could strike—a truly terrifying prospect.

For this reason, I made sure to carry a sturdy branch to probe the path and scare away any snakes or other creatures lurking within.

My left hand wielded the branch to push aside vines, and I used the axe to clear what I couldn't move. I was glad I had the branch; I encountered at least three snakes on the way. I didn't know if they were venomous, but had I been using my hands, I surely would have been bitten. These snakes were easily startled and fled as soon as I appeared, so I never had to face a direct confrontation.

To be honest, these small venomous snakes weren't the scariest part; one just needs to be careful. It was the strange little creatures that kept popping out that were unsettling. For instance, a small frog—strikingly red and green, and of unknown toxicity—leaped onto the back of my foot from a vine. Then, two black-furred animals darted out from the brush, keeping my nerves frayed.

This place is full of bizarre creatures. That little fellow from yesterday not only survived a snake bite without issue—assuming the snake was even venomous—but also devoured the snake shortly after. With that level of ferocity, a confrontation would be a serious problem.

My main concern, however, remained the trees. Ahead lay a small grove. Because these trees had grown long-term in the shade, their leaves were small and their trunks were only about half the thickness of an arm—exactly what I needed.

It took me dozens of minutes to cover the mere hundred meters to the edge of the grove. There were at least a hundred trees here, which was more than enough. For me, the more, the better.

I used the same method, felling them one by one. The morning's work had been easy, but now my muscles were tired and aching. Even though these trees were half the size of the ones from the morning, my pace slowed significantly.

As my speed dropped, the work became mechanical, repeating until the woods began to grow dim. I realized the sun was setting. I could only drag two saplings at a time, and I was lucky to have cleared a path, otherwise, even one would have been a struggle. I didn't count how many I had cut, but there were certainly dozens.

Dragging two saplings out of the woods, I realized it was earlier than I had expected; the density of the forest had made it seem darker than it really was. The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon. Based on my experience, it would take at least another hour to set completely.

Time was tight. To drag all these trees out in an hour, I had to pick up the pace, as my current speed wouldn't be enough.

And so, I ran back and forth, pushing myself to the limit. Finally, I dragged all the saplings back to the yard. I was utterly exhausted, my arms so sore I could barely lift them.

I didn't bother trimming the branches; my arms had no strength left. I counted them: I had cut thirty-two saplings in the afternoon. My speed was much slower than in the morning, but it would have to do.

Originally, I had planned to surround the entire yard with these saplings, planting them side-by-side in the dirt. In my mind, that would be the safest wall—a barrier no beast could penetrate.

But that method was wasteful and required too many trees. It would take hundreds to complete. Having spent an entire day just to get these few dozen, the prospect of hundreds didn't interest me in the slightest.

I decided on a different approach. It just needed to be sturdier than the previous fence of branches and vines.

Before long, a new idea emerged: I would set a trunk as a post every two meters, each about two meters high, and then lash two or three horizontal trunks between them to create a frame. The gaps in between could be filled with woven branches. It was a good idea—it saved materials and was relatively easier to build.

Night was falling. Just as I was about to head inside, I spotted a familiar figure outside the yard!

It was the one from the other day—the one that had bared its teeth at me, tried to fight, and eaten the snake!

It was peering toward me from outside the fence. It must have seen me; the tuft of white fur on its head was unmistakable. I also noticed that it seemed to be carrying something in its mouth...

Perhaps out of curiosity, I took a few steps forward to see what it was holding. This time, it didn't seem interested in me; it just glanced at me and walked away.

But I did see what was in its mouth.

It appeared to be its young. I saw the same black-and-white fur on the little thing...