Day Five: An Unexpected Delicacy (With thanks for today's three recommendation tickets from 1001)

“Hahaha!” I was absolutely delighted. Who would have thought that a casual stroll through the bushes would lead me to so many bird eggs? A full dozen. Finally, I could eat eggs again—it was no wonder I was so excited.

The campfire was not yet fully extinguished. Carefully, I nestled the bird eggs into the ashes, covering them with the smoldering branches. Then, I began to wait, anticipation making my Adam’s apple bob up and down, a silent complaint about how drawn-out the wait felt.

At last, I heard the delicate crack of an eggshell breaking. Eagerly, I grabbed a stick and brushed aside the ashes. A bird egg with its shell mottled and charred rolled into view. I blew on it, long and hard, until it was finally cool enough to touch. My mind was already conjuring up images of springy whites and fluffy yolks. Swiftly, I peeled off the remaining shell and, unable to wait any longer, brought the smooth egg to my mouth.

But as it neared my lips, a strange expression took over my face. Suddenly, an awful stench hit my nose. The smell was so pungent I almost gagged; it seemed to shoot straight up into my skull. I retched, unable to help myself, and set the egg down slowly. With the egg gone, the odor began to dissipate. It must have been a rotten egg, I thought.

Still unwilling to give up, I brought the egg to my nose for another sniff. The same putrid smell. There was no doubt—it was bad. Angrily, I picked up the offending egg and hurled it as far as I could. Watching its arc into the distance brought me a small sense of relief.

I went for a second egg, this time sniffing first. This one smelled wonderful, like freshly baked bread. Quickly, I peeled it, revealing smooth, snowy whites. “A true delicacy,” I couldn’t help but sigh. The springiness and the tenderness, two entirely different sensations, mingled in my mouth and finally settled comfortably in my stomach. I was so happy I nearly cried.

Even better, the rest of the eggs were all good. It didn’t take me long to eat them all. I wasn’t completely full, but my stomach felt much better. I lay down for a short rest.

Suddenly, I leapt to my feet, scrambling out from beneath the stone in excitement. I saw it—there was an airplane in the sky! Though it was barely a speck, I could make it out. I jumped up and down, waving my arms.

I called out loudly, “Hey! Hey!” Was someone searching for me? Had they seen me? Question after question flooded my mind. I ran up and down the mountain top, praying to be noticed. But as the plane became a mere dot and slowly vanished over the horizon, my heart sank again.

I was in pain, miserable, lonely… In the past, I had always longed for a life away from the city, envying those who could live in seclusion, tending chrysanthemums behind a rustic fence, gazing at distant hills in peace. But now, I realized I was not made for such a life. If I could, I would leave at once. But perhaps, I would never get the chance.

From the mountaintop, I gazed out over the sea—endless and calm, not a ship in sight. Not even a hint of hope.

Crack.

“Hm?” I looked down to see I had stepped on a dry branch, snapping it. I stared at it, thoughtful.

“That’s it!” An idea sprang to mind, filling me instantly with energy. I began gathering branches with dark, blackish bark, as well as thick vines and thorns.

Time slipped by as I gathered more and more. “Not enough.” Looking at the pile before me, I shook my head and kept searching. From noon until sunset, I was busy collecting these things, only stopping to drink a little water from a puddle. I never rested.

Wiping sweat from my brow, I looked at the great heap of dry branches and vines before me, nodding with satisfaction. The sun was setting, sinking into the sea. “I need to hurry!” I thought.

Finally, before night fully fell, I finished my plan. Looking at my handiwork, I felt deeply content. I grinned like a child. If a plane passed by tomorrow, they would surely see it—the huge SOS I had spelled out with branches.

I knew that without hope, I would soon become a hollow shell. In the darkness, I lit a fire and collapsed beneath a boulder. Today was strange; unlike previous days, I didn’t fall asleep as soon as I was exhausted. No matter how I shifted positions, sleep wouldn’t come.

Thoughts surged wildly through my mind, threatening to burst my skull.

“Should I try to make a raft?”
“What if I could actually escape?”
“Should I walk around the island first?”
“What if I discover something by accident?”
“If all else fails, maybe I should try swimming for it…”

Ideas tumbled over each other, leaving my mind in chaos. It was almost comical. I knew my truest desires, but my thoughts wouldn’t let me rest; instead, they buzzed with options and suggestions. That was why I couldn’t sleep—even with my eyes closed, the ideas hovered before me, vividly real, as if I could reach out and touch them.

Only reason kept rejecting them, pushing back against the confusion. Unable to sleep and with hunger gnawing at me, I had no choice but to get up. Since sleep was impossible, I might as well look for food—maybe even some more bird eggs.

I wrapped a vine around a sturdy branch, lit it at the fire, and set out into the night, hoping for luck. The mountaintop was silent, the sea breeze cool against my skin. I took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and let the chilly air circulate through my body, gradually calming my nerves.

I have to admit, my luck was still holding. I found a tree laden with fruit, clustered thickly among the branches. In the torchlight, they gleamed—a rich yellow, plump and clearly full of juice. Reason told me not to eat them, but of course I ignored it.

Before I knew it, I’d bitten into one, crushing it between my teeth, chewing and swallowing. It was bitter, sour, and truly unpleasant—but very juicy. When I finished, a faint, unique fragrance lingered in my mouth. Not bad, I thought, certainly better than puddle water.

I couldn’t say how many I ate; I just kept repeating the same motion, plucking fruit and popping it into my mouth. Eventually, I burped, feeling satisfied at last.

This time, when I returned to the stone, my mind no longer raced. My eyelids grew heavy.

“Maybe tomorrow I should go down the mountain and have a look. After all, this isn’t a good place to live.”

That was the last thought I had before falling asleep.