Day Eighty: A New Opportunity (Part One) Additional Chapter for Qian Xiaoge

With a mind preoccupied by worries, my sleep was restless, and my internal clock roused me long before dawn. Despite the lingering fatigue and the dim, gray light of early morning, I forced myself to rise. I had two reasons: first, to see if Little Black truly ventured out on his own; and second, because there was too much to be done. My makeshift plastic-bottle shoes were far from ideal—they were slippery and completely unsuitable for long-term use. Beyond that, I needed to reinforce the perimeter wall, construct a new treehouse, and gather more materials. A mountain of tasks awaited me.

I roused Lightning early to feed him, and as I opened the door after the meal, Little Black scrambled up and followed me out. Without hesitation, he headed away from the yard.

As I had suspected, he was indeed leaving. Whether he was off to play or heading somewhere specific, I had no idea. My early rising was meant to set aside my chores and get to the bottom of his behavior.

Fortunately, Little Black wasn't running, or I would never have kept pace in my plastic shoes. Once we cleared the yard, he glanced back at me, having heard my footsteps. He didn't seem to mind, however, and even slowed his pace. Man and dog moved forward together. I remembered those first few days after I met him, when he would lead me to his former master, moving in this same manner, one after the other, until we reached the place where his master had perished.

We soon reached the stream, where Little Black splashed about while I rested on the grass. I began to regret my decision. Was it possible he was just out for a bit of fun? The thought of spending the entire day trailing him only to discover he was merely playing was disheartening.

I entertained a new theory regarding the night he had returned so late. Could he have been distracted by play or a hunt, wandered into a thicket of vines, and become trapped until he finally managed to break free in the middle of the night? It was a plausible theory, especially since he had returned without any physical injuries.

He had been famished and parched, as if he hadn't eaten or drunk for a long time. If he had been caught by something, it would be difficult to imagine him escaping without injury. Of course, there was another possibility: a trap. A trap set by his former master or someone else. Perhaps he had fallen into it and, through sheer grit, managed to escape despite his hunger and thirst.

Watching him play, my mind raced with guesses; after all, I was following him to find answers. He glanced at me from a distance, then climbed out of the stream, shook the water from his fur, and began heading toward the hills.

There were two ways to reach the hills. One was a longer route that followed the stream all the way to the base of the mountains, though it was more than twice the distance of the second. The second path, which I usually took, involved cutting through the woods.

Having walked with me many times, Little Black chose the woods, confirming he was indeed headed for the hills. The forest was rife with danger, especially in areas where hidden pits, ten centimeters deep and masked by layers of rotting leaves, could cause me to stumble—a risk my current footwear made all the more perilous. These pits were havens for countless insects.

When I had proper shoes, I never worried, but now, with nothing protecting the tops of my feet but vines, I was vulnerable to stings. Not long after entering the woods, I had already been bitten several times, and the itching was maddening.

Several times, when I lagged behind, Little Black came back to me, but I waved him on, gesturing for him to go ahead and play.

It took twice as long as usual to clear the forest. Perhaps because the skin on my feet had been protected by the shoes for so long, it was soft and pale, making it a prime target for the insects.

A quick glance revealed a dozen red, itchy, and painful welts on each foot. The flies resembled mosquitoes, though they weren't, and they swarmed in clouds over the decaying leaves. Whenever I passed, they swarmed my feet. I swatted as many as I could and picked up my pace, but they were like a plague—impossible to escape or eradicate. Eventually, I stopped fighting and just pushed forward to exit the woods.

I spent the journey scratching and clawing. I had broken the skin on a few welts, but the sharp sting brought me to my senses; I couldn't keep scratching. Open wounds would only attract more insects and risk infection. From then on, no matter how intense the itch, I endured it without touching them.

When I followed Little Black to his second destination, the familiar sight nearly made me spit blood. He was playing with me! He had led me straight to the Rabbit Valley. Was this some kind of joke? After all that grueling effort, he’d brought me here to hunt rabbits? It was a farce.

I watched him crouch silently by a rabbit hole, patiently waiting for prey to emerge. Standing nearby, I felt like crying. If heaven gave me another chance, I would never have chosen to follow him. Hours had passed... just to watch him play and hunt. Was I being too suspicious? Should I turn back now? Was I really going to watch him play all day? But since I was already here, perhaps I should just wait.

Return or continue?

The two conflicting thoughts warred in my mind. While I hesitated, Little Black caught a rabbit. It was small—half the size of the ones we usually ate.

It was already dying, its throat likely crushed by Little Black’s jaws. As he trotted toward me with the catch, he shook his head, ensuring the prey had no chance of escape.

He dropped the rabbit at my feet and turned toward the valley entrance, clearly moving on. My decision was made: I would see this through to the end. I would treat it as keeping him company. Lightning had been fed, so a late return wouldn't be a disaster.

This time, Little Black headed in a direction I had never explored. He moved with the confidence of someone who had walked the path a thousand times. At first, we followed the stream, which was wider here but shallower—barely covering the top of my foot, with some stretches nearly dried up.

Then, he entered a forest. Since I had never been here, I left simple markers to ensure I could find my way back. We walked for nearly another hour; the distance wasn't great, but my pace was slow.

Ahead, a small clearing appeared, overgrown with vines. Little Black didn't hesitate—he dove straight into the thicket.

"Little Black!" I shouted, watching him vanish into the vines.