Day Twelve: So It Was You! (Part One)

Today, the weather is far from ideal. The wind is strong, and overhead, dark clouds race across the sky. Rain is my greatest worry, for my shelter offers little protection. I dread a night without a campfire, damp and cold. So, at dawn, I set about repairing my refuge.

I need palm leaves—no easy task. The last time I tried, I fell and was bedridden for a day; even now, the memory sends a shiver through me. But I have no choice. Those enormous leaves are my only option.

Climbing a coconut tree is never easy, but today I have a plan. Inspiration struck from a memory of watching linemen at work. They use safety ropes, looping them around their waists and the utility poles, so even if they slip, they won’t fall.

I found a long vine, tied it securely around my waist, wound it around the tree, then fastened myself tightly to the trunk. With this makeshift harness, climbing became far less perilous. I could ascend a bit, then rest—just clutching the tree with my legs, leaning back against the vine, holding myself firm so I wouldn’t slip.

This method worked well, if a bit slowly, but it got me safely beneath the great leaves. I must admit, harvesting these palm fronds is grueling—I spent at least an hour without managing to sever even one. My hands were aching, my neck stiff from craning upward for so long.

By midday, my stomach rumbling with hunger, I finally managed to knock down four leaves. “It should be enough,” I told myself in reassurance.

How quickly the weather changes! Only moments ago, the sky was dabbed with a few dark clouds; now raindrops are beginning to fall. I hurriedly laid the four palm leaves evenly across the roof of my little hut and secured them with more vines.

Once finished, I circled my shelter and discovered another problem. The clearing, though domed like a pot lid and not prone to pooling water, is surrounded by flat ground where I’d built my hut. I needed to dig drainage ditches to prevent rainwater from flooding inside.

Luckily, the rain hadn’t truly begun. Digging with branches was arduous—I lost count of how many snapped in the process. The trenches were barely five centimeters deep, which I knew was far from sufficient if a heavy rain persisted. But I have no metal tools.

At last, four shallow drainage ditches ringed my little hut. There was no time left to make a door. I had to prepare for the downpour as best I could.

I dragged my suitcase inside. The wooden planks I’d scavenged before were laid down for a bed. Now, I needed to gather food and firewood.

Only then did I realize my flaw—I am not a meticulous person. I could have prepared all this much earlier, but only when rain threatened did I begin. Fortunately, it wasn’t too late.

I plunged into the woods, gathering fallen branches and leaves—not yet too damp—and ferried armfuls back to the hut, trip after trip. Surveying my cache, I reckoned I had enough wood to last three days.

The raindrops grew larger, but the shower was still gentle, so I still had time. I’ve developed quite a fondness for coconut crabs lately—their indescribable aroma haunts my thoughts, and the memory of their taste makes my mouth water.

To catch one, I’d picked up a hefty stone while gathering firewood. With a rock half the size of my head, a single blow would suffice to turn a crab into my supper.

Luck was with me; before long, I found several coconut crabs amid the palms, but I took only one—food is hard to keep fresh, and I prefer it that way.

With a crab and two fallen coconuts in hand, I returned, then headed to the river to catch a fish. It was then that the rain suddenly intensified.

Before I could react, a white curtain of rain surrounded me. I ran, desperate to pluck some fruit from the trees before the deluge worsened. The raindrops were heavy, stinging as they struck.

Ever since that cave ordeal, I’ve had a primal fear of rain. Thankfully, the river isn’t far from my shelter. Though drenched to the bone, I was relieved to find my hut stayed dry.

I dropped off the fish and rushed to the fruit trees, picking my favorite plump, red berries. Just then, something caught my eye—a black shadow!

My skin prickled with goosebumps. Despite being soaking wet, I hadn’t felt cold until that instant, when it seemed the blood in my veins turned to ice. I spun around quickly.

I saw it! Black, nearly a meter tall, vanishing in a blur! What was it?

A jolt of terror shot through me. I was so frightened that I didn’t even notice the fruit slip from my grasp. In that split second, I thought I saw an eye—staring straight at me. Was I being sized up as prey?

Why had it been watching me from the shadows? I had no time to ponder; fear drove all reason away. Anyone in my position would have fled rather than wait in such terror.

Though the creature had vanished, I couldn’t be sure it wasn’t circling behind me. I hurried back to my hut.

Once inside, I wedged branches firmly against the entrance to block any intruder. I placed my thickest clubs within easy reach. I lit the fire.

The books were right—fire’s glow steadies the heart. Bathed in its light, I felt a fragile sense of safety.

But my thoughts soon wandered. I hadn’t seen the creature clearly through the rain, but I suspected it might be a black panther—or perhaps a wolf. Either way, neither was an opponent I could handle lightly. I’d have to be much more careful from now on.

Outside, the rain grew heavier, drumming loudly on the palm-leaf roof. Water was already seeping under the firewood pile—perhaps the ditches weren’t draining fast enough. But I dared not check.

Suddenly, I tensed.

A black shadow—God! Through the slats of branches, I saw it, right up against my hut!

It had come back! What did it want?

My heart pounded so hard I thought it would burst from my throat. In that moment, I couldn’t make a sound.

A scraping noise! It was clawing at the branches!

I even saw a glint of razor-sharp claws!

I could hardly breathe.

A heavy snort—it let out a guttural breath!