Day Seventy-Three: Rebuilding the Homeland (Ten)

Last night, I slept soundly; the terrifying dream from a few days ago gradually faded from my memory. Today was the day to fix the fence. After stretching my limbs in the yard, I felt much better. Just as I was about to start working, an unexpected discovery delighted me.

The waterproof tarp had fallen from the big tree onto a nearby tree as thick as a thigh. That tree wasn’t very tall, and its branches spread out in a semicircular shape. I only needed to climb up and chop off the branch holding the tarp—it was quite convenient. Perhaps last night’s wind had blown the tarp down since it wasn’t hung very securely. This was undoubtedly good news for me.

The tarp had many uses, and right now, it was urgently needed to solve a pressing problem.

Carrying my axe, I stood beneath the tree. It wasn’t difficult to climb because the branches extended outward, allowing me to grasp them easily and climb above the trunk. But it still took some time to chop off the branches holding the tarp so that it would fall to the ground.

I had hoped to use a simpler method—poke the tarp down with a long tree trunk—but after some observation, I abandoned the idea. The biggest problem was the wide canopy with many branching limbs; standing on the ground, I couldn’t break through the overlapping branches. And if I climbed and poked, I couldn’t stabilize myself or exert enough force.

So I chose to climb and chop. The thickest branches were about the size of an arm. Since I was standing on the big tree’s limbs, leveraging myself wasn’t very easy, and chopping took quite some time.

After about an hour, the tarp finally fell to the ground along with the chopped branches. Overjoyed at recovering it, I laughed out loud—our food was saved!

Yes, saved. This tarp was incredibly useful to me. I had been pondering how to spread out the grain to dry, but aside from this tarp, I could think of no other way. Fortunately, I had it again!

I spread the tarp in the sunniest spot in the yard, placing several stones on its edges to hold it firmly so the wind wouldn’t lift it. Then I opened a bag of rice and spread the grain evenly over it. Though soaked earlier, the rice had dried inside the sack but had yellowed somewhat. It could never be as pure white as before, but at least it could be dried properly.

Each bag of rice needed about an hour to dry. After thirty minutes, I turned the grains to ensure even drying. The tarp wasn’t very large, so even one bag piled up in one spot. Turning them once allowed for more uniform exposure. In about three days, all the grain would be dried.

With that done, I began chopping the branches from the saplings I had dragged from the forest yesterday afternoon. After clearing the branches, I needed to build the fence—my first line of defense. Having the fence in place gave me a sense of security.

Finally finishing the branches, I poured the second bag of rice onto the tarp. I scooped the dried first bag back into its sack with a large bowl. I didn’t pause for a moment. Though tired, I felt no soreness, only intense thirst. I added two slices of lemon and a little honey to plain water and drank deeply, though it was gone before I felt fully quenched.

At least my dry mouth and parched tongue were soothed. There was still time before noon, so I started building the fence. Digging holes to plant the trunks was tedious; each hole took some time. To ensure stability, I dug about fifty centimeters deep. After planting each trunk, I covered the hole with soil and stomped it down firmly.

The holes were spaced about one and a half meters apart, each holding a sapling trunk. This formed the fence’s foundation—the crucial step. Only once the trunks were firmly set would the fence be sturdy.

After securing all the small trunks, hunger overwhelmed me. Luckily, I still had a few cakes left. I shared two with Little Black, who was playing with a ball and chasing butterflies, then sat down with my drink and ate. The corn cakes were dry but convenient and filling—perfect for such moments. I planned to make more later.

By noon, the temperature had risen noticeably. I had little time to rest, as many trunks remained to be tied to the planted ones. These horizontal trunks connected the vertical ones, with two horizontal trunks tied at different heights on every two vertical trunks.

This staggered arrangement reduced gaps in the fence. Later, I planned to block the remaining spaces with branches.

I worked tirelessly until nightfall, not wanting to delay further. I lit a small fire nearby and continued working until midnight, when I finally stopped.

The fence was essentially complete, though some details remained—such as the unfinished gate, uncovered gaps, and untended vines. But these were not urgent.

The most important tasks were done. At dusk, Little Black came to me, clearly hungry, seeking some food. Since I was rushing, I gave it the last two cakes.

Now, under the high moon and twinkling stars, I couldn’t sleep without eating something.

At night, this place belonged to the animals. Strange calls echoed endlessly, as if celebrating some festival. The fire attracted small insects that fluttered around and sometimes dove into the flames—like moths.

Bats flew overhead, hunting. I remembered worrying when I first arrived—what if they were vampire bats? But thankfully, that fear proved unfounded.

Lost in thought, the rice in the pot finished cooking. The savory aroma of steamed meat wafted through the air, even drawing Little Black, who had fallen asleep upstairs in the treehouse, to come over.

“That greedy rascal! Luckily, you found me, or you’d be eating raw rabbit meat every day!” I laughed, pointing at Little Black’s head.

“Woof woof!” it seemed to understand and uttered two low barks.

I chuckled again, knowing it probably didn’t understand my words. More likely, seeing me point, it thought I was scolding and hung its head apologetically, as if truly sorry.