Day eighty, new opportunities (part two). Please vote for this novel!

“Little Black!” I called again. At last, Little Black crawled out, but it merely gave me a puzzled glance before retreating into the tangle of vines, rustling as it burrowed deeper inside.

The mass of vines was incredibly dense. I had no idea what Little Black could possibly be doing in there. A place like this surely could not contain any food it liked. Could there be fruit I had failed to notice? Or perhaps something else that had captured its interest?

Curiosity urged me relentlessly to catch up with Little Black, and before long, I had allowed myself to be persuaded. But the path Little Black had taken was completely impassable to a human being. If I wanted to follow, I had no choice but to use my axe to hack apart the vines blocking the way.

There were insects, ants, little snakes, and all manner of creatures living among the vines. They seemed to be a nursery for countless tiny organisms. As I hacked my way forward, the creatures that had made their homes in the vines began to flee. The ants, however, were an exception. They showed not the slightest fear and even tried to crawl toward me along the branch in my hand.

I certainly was not afraid of them. After dealing with ants several times, I had already figured out all their tricks. Once I had cleared away the vines, all I needed to do was give the branch a shake, and they would easily fall off. Then I could continue clearing the way.

Little Black seemed to have run into trouble. It was making muffled whining sounds from within the vines, a sign that it was about to lose its temper. It was not far ahead on my right. I continued calling to it as I chopped through the vines and advanced.

It sounded unwilling to give up. Whenever it turned back through the vines, it would stop and let out several low growls before turning around and continuing toward me. After repeating this several times, it finally reached my side.

“What’s wrong, Little Black? Do you want to go inside? Is there something to eat in there?”

I did not actually expect it to answer, but when I pointed toward the vines ahead, Little Black cried out several times in agitation. Apparently, it really did want to get inside. Yet the farther in one went, the denser the vines became. Judging from the sight before me, Little Black had probably been unable to squeeze through. The corners of its mouth suggested that it had been gnawing at the vines, trying to force its way inside.

But clearly, it had failed.

I swung my axe and hacked my way forward. Apart from a few small animals, there was nothing unusual hidden among the vines, nor did I find any edible fruit. It was obvious that this entire area had been swallowed by the vines. Even if fruit trees had once grown here, they would have died beneath the vines’ entanglement and shade.

Something strange happened as I gradually ventured deeper. Could this be…? Yes, it was very possible! I needed to go farther in and take a closer look.

The discovery made my heart beat faster. I sincerely hoped my guess was correct. If it was, I might make an astonishing find.

My axe moved faster and faster. The vines snapped apart beneath each swing. I was not merely clearing a path; I also dragged the severed vines out and piled them together.

Once the vines covering this area had been cleared away, its true appearance would finally be revealed. The clearing was not especially large—perhaps only one or two hundred square meters. The vines were lower around the outside and higher toward the center, which made me even more certain of my suspicion.

My earlier discovery could not have been a coincidence. I had found several flat stones buried in the soil. They served much the same purpose as the small stones I had used to pave the ground in my yard, preventing slips and keeping the earth from turning into mud in the rain.

If I had found only one stone, I would never have formed such a suspicion. But over this short stretch, there were four of them, spaced at almost equal intervals. The possibility that they had been formed entirely by nature was practically zero. That might have been possible at the foot of a mountain, but this was deep in the woods. Normally, even loose gravel was rarely seen in a forest, except near its edges. To find large stones in a place like this, I could think of no explanation other than that someone had carried them here.

The answer was becoming obvious. This place had most likely been built by human hands. The raised section in the middle of the vines might once have been a dwelling. And since Little Black had found its way here so familiarly, this was very likely the home of its former owner.

Then everything made sense. There were only a few possibilities for why Little Black had been so determined to return. The first was that it wanted to seek out its memories and pay tribute to its former owner. The second was that something here continued to exert a powerful pull on it, compelling it to return and search. The third was that it had discovered this place by accident and simply wanted to investigate.

I felt the first possibility was the most likely, the second somewhat less so, and the third the least likely by far. But the answer would soon be revealed once I finished clearing away the vines.

Once again, the facts proved my guess correct. As the vines around the area were cleared away one by one, more and more traces of human habitation began to emerge. Naturally, I had no desire to uncover some ancient ruin. I only hoped this had been the place where Little Black’s former owner—or some other person stranded here—had lived.

Because the ground had been shielded from the sunlight, it was extremely damp beneath the vines. That was also why so many tiny insects had gathered here. Numerous small holes pitted the ground, each one the home of some little creature.

As I pulled aside the vines I had cut down, a scrap of cloth appeared before me. Half of it was buried beneath the damp soil, while the other half lay exposed.

I seized the exposed portion and pulled the entire scrap free. Though the fabric was badly decayed and much of its color had faded, I could still identify it at a glance. It had likely come from a pair of jeans or a denim jacket. More specifically, it seemed to have been torn from the front pocket of a pair of trousers, because I found a rivet embedded in the cloth. Rivets were commonly placed along the edges of jean pockets.

This discovery made me even more certain that my first theory was correct. It seemed that Little Black’s owner had reached this place before me. How he had come here, why he had come, and what he had intended to do here, however, remained unknown.

I should have thought of this sooner. Since he had once lived together with Little Black, he must surely have had some kind of shelter. But at the time, I had never considered that possibility, and as a result, I had failed to notice this place.

It had been abandoned for quite some time. The fact that it had been completely covered by vines meant that the process could not have taken only a month or two. It was quite possible that Little Black’s former owner had already died before I arrived here. Perhaps I would be able to determine how long ago once I saw what lay inside the shelter.

The vines around the outer perimeter had nearly all been cleared away. I had now begun working inward. Before long, I uncovered a fence, spears made from branches, and a dented kettle that had been trampled flat. There was even a tattered garment covered in mushrooms.