Day Fifty-One: Another Visit to the Coastal Forest (Part Two), an Extra Chapter for Yun Qi Youran

I realized my own planning was rather careless. This barrel-shaped fishing net was truly inconvenient to carry; it was awkward to sling on my back, and dragging it was out of the question. If I tried to carry it on my back, its length meant it always scraped the ground; if I dragged it, I knew the net would be torn before I even reached my destination.

With no better option, I hooked the axe onto my belt and cradled the fishing net in my arms as I walked onward.

Today, Blackie seemed to have turned over a new leaf. Instead of wandering off to play or chasing butterflies in the yard, he quietly followed behind me. I wondered whether it was yesterday’s bird eggs that had whetted his appetite, prompting him to tag along in hopes of finding more, or perhaps my late return last night had worried him, and he wanted to accompany me out of concern.

Whatever the reason, having Blackie with me always made me feel more at ease. His keen senses and alertness meant that whenever anything approached, or if there was the slightest rustle in the grass, he would fix his gaze upon it and warn me immediately if he noticed anything amiss. With Blackie by my side, I could afford to relax a little.

The route was much easier in daylight than it had been yesterday. Following the shoreline, we didn’t spend much time before reaching our destination. This was the edge of the woods, about a hundred meters from where I’d encountered the wild boars yesterday, but the terrain here was higher, allowing me to survey the area first.

Aside from a large flock of seabirds busy feeding or tending to their young, I saw no other creatures—not even the wild boars I feared most. From this vantage, I could see the spot in the woods where the boars had disappeared yesterday; there was a narrow path there, likely trampled by their frequent visits to forage. Still, I felt there was no immediate danger as long as I stayed alert.

Now I needed to find a place to set down my fishing net and wait awhile to see if it would yield results. The sun was blazing, but the morning seawater was still cold. The instant my feet touched it, the icy water triggered a cramp.

It took a good deal of rubbing before the pain subsided. As I bent to tend to my foot, I noticed many small creatures along the shore—tiny snails, shrimp, small fish, all sorts. Sheltered by the woods that grew right into the sea, the water here was almost wave-free, just a gentle surge, which made me think there’d be plenty of fish and shrimp.

Such places offer them excellent protection and cover, along with abundant food, and I felt certain this must be a haven for them. The submerged roots of the large trees were covered with shellfish unknown to me; I even spotted a few hermit crabs crawling by the underwater roots.

If I chose the right spot, a good harvest seemed all but assured. I waded forward; the water came up to my thighs now, but I could see the seabed clearly, so I had little fear. Here, I saw fish of every color and size, but my approach startled them, sending them fleeing in every direction.

The seabed was flat, though the tree roots twisted like vines, dozens of sturdy roots plunging into the sand. With so many roots, there were countless gaps and holes between them, making this a paradise for the sea creatures.

I decided to place the net beside the tree roots, with the funnel-shaped mouth facing outward, and wait a few hours to see what I might catch.

Suddenly, a sea snake of blue-gray hues swam past, startling me, though I managed not to panic. It was about ten meters away, body arched in several loops, speeding along in a zigzag. I stayed perfectly still, avoiding any movement—I had no wish to provoke it.

In mere seconds, it slipped past and vanished from sight.

Once the net was set, it rolled gently with the flow of the water. I chopped a branch from a nearby tree, intending to fix the net to the seabed, but quickly realized my mistake: this was not a riverbed. The bottom was just sand, with only a thin layer of silt, impossible to anchor the branch. Instead, my efforts muddied the once-clear water.

Defeated by my own ignorance, I finally remembered to use large stones and pebbles from the seabed to weigh down the net. This method was simple and effective. After loading several hefty stones in, the net settled smoothly beside the tree roots.

Now, all I could do was wait.

While I worked on the net, Blackie darted about, just as he had yesterday, running through the dense woodland that I couldn’t enter. I guessed he must have found some food he liked in there.

Clearly, the woods were home to many nesting seabirds; as Blackie rushed through, the birds took flight in startled flocks. Once he moved away, they quickly settled back down.

“That rascal!” I watched the patch of woodland where Blackie played and shook my head with a smile.

“Ouch!”

Suddenly, a fierce, burning pain shot through my back. I sprang to my feet, hand reaching inside my shirt to grab whatever was crawling on me.

Before I could catch it, another sharp sting made me grimace in agony. I shook my clothes desperately, hoping to dislodge whatever insect had burrowed inside.

Soon, several black bugs dropped to the ground, scurrying swiftly into the cracks between the sand and stones. One crawled onto my neck—I pinched it and brought it before my eyes.

It turned out to be an ant—a very large ant! Larger than any I’d seen before, with a glossy black shell and long mandibles. Even trapped between my fingers, it refused to yield, snapping its jaws relentlessly in an attempt to force me to let go.

I squeezed lightly—it didn’t die. Only when I applied more force did it finally succumb.

What a terrifying place this was; this wasn’t the first time I’d thought so. Whenever I believed I could adapt, some new setback arose, forcing me to reassess my state of mind.

I wondered how the ant had crawled onto me, but as I examined the trees closely, I realized my mistake. What I’d taken for dark streaks on the bark were actually swarms of ants, so numerous they formed lines, fooling me at first glance.

From now on, I would avoid touching these trees. The ants were truly dreadful; my back was swollen and itching from their bites.

“Ow—wooo! Ow, woooo—” Suddenly, Blackie’s plaintive cry rang out, setting my heart racing.

I quickly drew my gun and rushed over.

The woods were too dense; I couldn’t get in. All I could do was call out loudly for Blackie.

His cries grew closer…

…