Day Seventy-Seven: The Trap (Part Two) Additional Chapter for FY Requested

The rain never came after all, which surprised me greatly.

The wind blew in suddenly, but the rain did not follow. The clouds fled farther into the distance, and sunlight actually appeared once again. What strange weather. It had made me hide in the tree house for nearly half a day, wasting a great deal of time.

The sun was already slanting westward. In just a few hours, darkness would fall. Since the heavy rain had not arrived, my mood was naturally quite good. And when my spirits improved, so did my appetite.

Lunch had been very light. Perhaps I ought to prepare a little extra for dinner. The exquisite flavor of coconut crab had lingered in my memory, and although there might be more of them at night, venturing outside after dark was no longer an option until I figured out what animal had appeared two nights ago. For safety’s sake, I would have to stay in.

So while there was still daylight, I decided to try my luck in the coconut grove. If I could catch one or two coconut crabs, that would be enough for dinner.

Sometimes things simply worked out by coincidence. A careless act could produce unexpected results—just as it had now. I had originally planned only to catch coconut crabs, but then I suddenly discovered that the tide had gone out again.

Rain was still falling over the distant sea, while the tide was receding here. It was truly baffling, but there was no time to ponder it now.

I bounded toward the trap I had made from stones along the shore last time, wondering whether it might have retained a few fish, shrimp, or something of the sort.

But when I reached it, the sight before me sent my heart plunging. The stones I had carefully arranged had long since been scattered by the seawater. Not even the original shape remained.

I had built the enclosure to stop fish, shrimp, tiny octopuses, and other creatures left behind by the ebbing tide. Yet the semicircular stone barrier had already been washed apart. I counted the stones that remained in their original positions. There were only three.

Some had vanished without a trace, while others had been carried far from where they had been placed. The farthest had traveled dozens of meters. It seemed this plan had ended in failure. But that did not mean I would go hungry.

There was always a small pool beside the rocks, and such pools usually contained tiny octopuses, shellfish, little shrimp, and the like. I had no intention of gathering much food today—only enough for an extra portion at dinner. If I collected too much, I had no way to keep it fresh, and it would probably spoil by tomorrow.

As I was catching shrimp, a small blue octopus hiding in a crevice shot out and tried to attack me. Fortunately, I pulled my finger back in time. After witnessing one of its kind kill a moray eel in an instant, I had always regarded these little blue octopuses with a certain awe.

When I was preparing to catch two more, I heard a faint swishing sound beside me. I looked up warily—and that single glance saved my life.

White foam was churning across the distant surface of the sea.

The sight nearly scared the soul out of me. There was no need to think; I knew I had to run immediately. I had never realized I could move so quickly. When I was still about five meters from the shore, the wave arrived.

It surged up to my waist and nearly knocked me down. If I had actually fallen, I would have been in serious danger.

Fortunately, I managed to stay upright and was carried back to shore by the rush of seawater. The sudden arrival of the wave had also caused me to drop much of the food I was carrying. The tiny octopuses were still wriggling in my palm, making it unbearably itchy.

…

Back at the tree house, I counted my haul. There were only four starfish, three tiny octopuses, two sea prawns, two small fish, and two unidentified shells. It was barely enough to make a seafood feast.

I had originally planned to pry loose a few oysters as well. Alas…

I threw the tiny octopuses, sea prawns, and small fish into a pot and made seafood soup. It was Little Black’s favorite food. As long as I gave him a bowl of rice mixed with seafood soup, he would lick the dish until it shone as if it had just been polished.

Once the soup was finished, I began cooking the rice. Little Black, whom I had mentioned earlier, was now shamelessly circling my legs, naturally hoping for a taste of the soup. His plaintive whimpering filled the air. It took quite some time to calm him before the noisy creature finally settled down. By then, the rice was nearly ready, and the starfish roasting beside the fire were done as well.

I first served Little Black a bowl of rice and mixed in half the seafood soup before setting it down for him. At that moment, even if the heavens collapsed and the earth split apart, it would have nothing to do with him.

After the starfish were roasted, I scooped out their roe and mixed it into the rice as one of the ingredients. With a little lard and soy sauce added, my ersatz seafood rice was complete. Eaten with the seafood soup, it had a flavor all its own.

Starfish were actually a rather controversial food. That dinner reminded me of the days when I used to go out for barbecue with my colleagues. Several of them had a fear of starfish—not merely because of their filthy appearance after being grilled, but more importantly because of the roe inside. Some of it turned yellowish, the grains were loose and soft, and fresh starfish even contained water.

My colleagues thought the roe looked like feces. They had even used eating starfish as a wager in drinking contests. I still remembered one fellow who lost such a contest and swallowed a huge mouthful of starfish roe, only to vomit violently afterward.

I was the only one who could accept the taste of starfish. Mixed with mustard and soy sauce, it was nothing short of sublime. I had no mustard now, but the flavor was still the same as I remembered from the past.

Amid those rising memories, I enjoyed my meal. Time passed swiftly and unnoticed. By the time I returned to the present, the sky outside had grown completely dark.

Not going outside after dark had become the first and foremost rule of life here. Once I had secured the door, fed Little Lightning his honey water, and finished everything else, I prepared to rest.

…

I had only just lain down when a commotion broke out outside.

Had those animals come again? Most likely. Judging by the sound, they were wild boars. One of them was roaring furiously, while the others called out in response.

Bang! Crack!

The moment I heard those noises, I understood what had happened. The wild boars had broken through the wall again.

Damn those boars.

The moonlight outside was fairly bright tonight. As the cries of the other boars gradually faded into the distance, I opened the door and stepped outside to see whether things had unfolded as I imagined.

Had a wild boar really been caught in the trap so quickly? With that thought in mind, I walked out.

The boar outside was still howling, even leaping wildly into the air. It seemed to have been caught by the leg in the snare. I had been about to go and finish it off, but after taking only a few steps, I spotted several other wild boars.

They were eating the black fruits in the very place where I had been attacked last time.

I counted them. There were actually five.

To avoid startling them, I could only retreat into the tree house once more. The trapped boar’s cries were pitiful. At first, listening to them made my scalp prickle.

But later…

I actually fell asleep!