Day Eighty-Three: Bow and Arrow Materials (Part One) — Please Subscribe

Some animal came to my yard again last night and made a racket with its screeching for a long time. It didn’t sound like a wild boar, but I never go out at night; it’s far too dangerous to be roaming around at such hours.

It was drizzling this morning, but the sky is starting to brighten now. Based on this, the rain should stop before long, certainly by tomorrow at the latest. I went out to the yard to investigate, but unfortunately, the heavy rain from last night had washed away any tracks, and I found absolutely nothing.

However, on my way to the workshed, I unexpectedly discovered a scrap of flesh! That’s right, a small piece of torn meat, still covered in black fur. I don't know what kind of animal it came from, but one thing is certain: a carnivore has definitely been in my yard.

The thought made my scalp crawl. A nocturnal carnivore is a threat that goes far beyond just a simple word. Logically, the gaps in my fence aren't wide enough for a large beast to squeeze through. Aside from the wild boar that broke through the fence earlier, this is the first time a carnivorous animal has appeared in this yard.

Could it be? Is this the creature the notebook mentioned—the one that killed "Li," the companion of Little Black’s former owner? That can’t be, can it? How would it end up here?

The mere thought of that creature left me surrounded by a chill. If it really is that thing, then I am truly unlucky. If I were to encounter it head-on, there might be a slim chance of escape, but if I were to run into it by surprise... the odds would be grim.

I must admit, this speculation frightened me deeply. Without realizing it, I had clenched my hands so tightly that my palms were slick with sweat. I pray I don't encounter it by chance. I’ve lived here for so long, after all; if this were a place it frequented, I would have become its meal long ago. Perhaps it was just passing through? Maybe it was just some other animal? Several counter-arguments surfaced in my mind, trying to soothe my frayed nerves.

These thoughts did help, at least enough to ease my intense anxiety. Still, I must be more cautious. Before, I knew nothing of this place and had to explore and discover every danger on my own. When you aren't aware of the dangers, they don't feel so terrifying. But now that I know, and have confirmed that these lethal threats exist, my state of mind has inevitably changed.

Weapons—I need weapons! I must make a bow and arrows first. I also plan to fashion a wooden handle for the fire axe to extend its length. That would make it much safer for dealing with snakes or other less agile creatures. The real challenge will be figuring out how to attach the axe head to the handle so it doesn’t come loose; that will require some trial and error.

A bow and arrows, however, don’t require such complex mechanics. The notebook explains everything clearly, including the materials and a brief production process. Although the instructions are rough, once I have the materials, I can slowly experiment with the construction. The most important thing is that the materials for a bow are very common.

The first material is a young tree. The notebook didn't specify the type, so I have no idea what it is. A small tree can be used for the bow body. How to craft it, though, was only touched upon briefly. It simply stated that a space for the grip must be left in the center, and two notches must be carved at each end to secure the bowstring.

The notebook wrote: "Split the trunk in two, and after trimming, it becomes the bow body."

That instruction is practically useless. Trim it into what shape? Should I trim it from the outside or from the split side? There isn't a shred of detail. I have no choice but to figure it out through trial and error.

The instructions for the bowstring, however, were quite clear: peel off a piece of fresh bark, tear the inner layer into strips, let them dry, and braid them together to form the bowstring. I’ve never braided anything before, but even if I haven't seen a pig run, I’ve certainly eaten pork! Back in school, my mischievous seatmate loved pulling the braids of the girl sitting in front of us. They would often come undone, so I’ve seen the process many times.

It doesn’t seem difficult—just intertwining three dried strips of bark and braiding them together. Of course, that’s just my current hypothesis. Three strips alone wouldn't be strong enough, but if I twist them into three strands and then braid those together, the structural integrity would be greatly improved.

The bark itself isn't hard to find. There are trees all around me. I selected one that I could wrap my arms around, cut a ring around it about half a meter from the ground, and then another ring a meter higher up. Using the axe, I sliced down to peel the bark away, then switched to a kitchen knife to carefully scrape it off.

Processing the bark is time-consuming. I have to try my best not to tear it. Once removed, I can peel off the inner layer in strips over a meter long, saving me the trouble of linking them together. To avoid damaging the inner layer, I kept the knife pressed flat against the trunk, slowly pushing it forward to lift the bark.

Finally, the whole piece came off. It only had a few small holes, a result I was quite satisfied with. Because it had just been stripped, the inner layer was very easy to peel.

I sat by the fire for a full hour, peeling until there was nothing left to peel. I didn't discard the outer bark; it looked quite good, and such a large piece would make an excellent waterproof layer for a roof.

Once the inner bark strips are peeled, they can't be used immediately; they need to be dried. I spread them out near the fire, taking care not to place them too close by using a stone as a buffer.

As for the bow body, I happened to have half a trunk left over from making clay tile molds yesterday. It’s perfect for this. The notebook emphasizes that the key to a bow is balance—the length and weight of both sides must be identical, otherwise, it won't shoot straight. It did mention, however, that minor imperfections don't matter, as one must fine-tune the bow after construction. Only after testing and adjusting can it be considered a functional weapon.

I didn't rush into the work. Instead, I took out my Swiss Army knife and, based on my own thoughts and understanding, made several markings on the trunk. If I started cutting blindly, it would be easy to make a mistake. To avoid wasting time, I etched my planned steps into the wood first.

That took another forty minutes or so. It wasn't the carving that took the time, but the constant revisions and adjustments to arrive at a solid plan. Even so, this is just the beginning; I will adjust each step as I go based on the reality of the situation.