Day Eighty: A New Opportunity (Part Two)—What? An Extra Chapter for Little Imperial Uncle

The vines had piled up like a small hill, and those around the outer perimeter had finally been cleared away. The house that had once stood here was now visible as well. Unfortunately, it had collapsed.

It was another wooden house, apparently built from tree trunks. Yet I found no tools outside; perhaps they were all inside. It was still impossible to see the treehouse clearly, for there were simply too many vines blocking my view.

I needed to rest for a while. Sweat had soaked my forehead and face, dripping steadily onto the ground. I removed the water bottle from my belt, unscrewed the cap, and took several deep gulps. After such strenuous labor, replenishing my fluids was essential.

If you waited until you felt thirsty before drinking, it was already too late. The proper approach was what I was doing now: after sweating, replenish your fluids before your body even sent out a signal of thirst. That greatly reduced the risk of heatstroke caused by dehydration. I had only remembered this recently.

After drinking more than half the bottle, I felt full. It was still early, and the sun had not yet reached its zenith. So I decided to rest for thirty minutes first. There were many vines covering the house, but once I cut through all the roots at ground level, I could simply pull the vines down bit by bit. I estimated that I could finish the job in about an hour.

The vines beside the house were not easy to cut with an axe. Their roots were quite thick, nearly as thick as my arm. Worst of all, they were extremely tough. When I brought the axe down with all my strength, the roots did not break; instead, the blade bounced back, leaving only a shallow mark.

“I was careless!”

I scratched my head, then changed my position. With my left hand, I seized a vine and pulled it taut. With my right, I raised the axe and brought it down diagonally against the stretched vine. This strike finally had an effect. It did not sever the vine outright, but it had split halfway through.

I followed with a second powerful swing, and this time the vine was finally cut through. Next came the task of pulling it down from the collapsed wooden house.

Once again, the result was completely unexpected. There were simply too many vines, and they had become entangled with one another, climbing over and around the wreckage. The moment I tugged on the vine I had cut, all the vines covering the roof began to move as well. They seemed to have become a single entity and could not be pulled down separately. This was entirely different from what I had imagined at first.

It took me roughly three full hours to climb onto the collapsed treehouse and deal with the vines one by one, cutting apart the mass of tangled growth with my axe. I rested three times in all. Though we were in the woods, sunlight still reached this clearing. The midday sun was viciously hot, burning my skin with a sharp, stinging pain.

Blackie had been lying nearby, resting. When he saw me clear away all the vines, he suddenly became excited and dashed toward the wooden house. He plunged headfirst into the collapsed structure.

Just as I was wondering what he was doing, Blackie backed out with something in his mouth—a ball... a tennis ball!

Thrilled, Blackie wagged his tail as he came over to me. He lowered his head and placed the tennis ball on the ground, then looked up at me.

Did Blackie want to play fetch? I stared at the filthy tennis ball on the ground, puzzled.

“You want me to throw it?”

I picked up the ball and mimed tossing it before asking him. “Woof!”

Blackie was practically jumping for joy. His eyes remained fixed on the tennis ball in my hand, while his forelegs pressed firmly against the ground. One look told me I had guessed correctly. He was ready, waiting only for me to throw it.

“All right!”

The moment I threw the ball, he leapt after it. Before it had even touched the ground, he sprang into the air, opened his jaws wide, and caught it in one bite. Then he turned and raced back.

After playing with him several times, I finally managed to calm his excitement. I too came to a realization. This must have been the place where Blackie had once lived with his owner. Perhaps the reason he had returned so late at night last time was that he had come looking for this ball. Of course, this tennis ball had to be Blackie’s favorite toy. He had loved playing with that ball of vines, but this tennis ball was probably the thing he loved most.

Blackie was now playing off to one side, and at last I could begin searching for anything of value. The wooden house had lost only its roof and two walls; it had not collapsed completely.

This house had also been tied together with vines. But in addition to the vines, I noticed that the joints between the tree trunks had been made with mortise-and-tenon construction. That surprised me greatly. Such work was extremely time-consuming, and in a place lacking proper tools, joining tree trunks in this way would have been extraordinarily difficult.

Could there be a large number of tools here?

The moment the thought arose, excitement surged through me again, sweeping away my earlier exhaustion. I began moving aside the tree trunks, each one thicker than my arm.

One trunk, then another, then a third. Once I had removed all the trunks lying at an angle across the top, the entire interior of the house came into view.

There was not much of value inside. In fact, most of it was nothing but junk to me: coconut shells cut in half, plastic bottles, and several scraps of cloth scattered here and there.

That was all I saw at first glance. I was deeply disappointed. None of the things I had imagined were there. The little house had only one floor and was even smaller than my treehouse. Perhaps because it had stood for so long, the wood had begun to decay, filling the air with a heavy, moldy stench.

I was about to turn and leave, but then I thought that the scraps of cloth should not go to waste. So I turned back and picked them up one by one.

Unexpectedly, beneath what appeared to be a piece of torn clothing, I found a gap between two tree trunks. It must have been formed when the treehouse collapsed. Inside the gap was a plastic bag.

The bag seemed to contain something, though I could not make out what it was. When I opened it, I discovered a notebook.

Some water had seeped inside. The notebook had been soaked and then dried again. After flipping through it briefly, I could tell that it had probably been written by Blackie’s former owner. I now had a general idea of what it contained, but this was not the place to read it carefully. I could examine it more thoroughly after nightfall, when I had some free time.

Oh, and before leaving, I found a shoe at the edge of the yard—only one. No matter how hard I looked, I could not find its mate. It was a hiking boot. If only there had been a pair. I tried it on and found that I could wear it, though it was slightly too large...

It was already getting late, and I had to head back. Otherwise, Lightning, waiting hungrily to be fed, might not be able to hold out. Besides, this place was some distance from the treehouse. I had to return before dark; otherwise, it would be far too dangerous.

As for the notebook, I would probably read it tonight. It seemed that much of its contents might be useful to me...