Day Sixteen, Rabbit Valley

Early this morning, I was awakened by Little Black. It kept licking my hand.

“What’s wrong, Little Black?” I asked.

Seeing that I was awake, it wagged its tail and headed toward the gap I had made in the wall.

Rubbing my eyes, I sat up and followed it.

“Wow!” I exclaimed in surprise.

A rabbit—it had brought me its catch. I had never seen a rabbit before and had no idea where Little Black had found it.

At last, there was meat to eat. I was thrilled.

Taking the rabbit, I went to the riverbank to clean it. Ever since I got this Swiss Army knife, gutting and cleaning animals had become extraordinarily simple.

The rabbit was already dead when Little Black caught it, so when I cut its throat, a lot of blood still came out.

I had never killed a rabbit before. I handled it the way I would a chicken.

I discarded most of the innards, keeping only the heart and liver.

Little Black watched attentively the whole time. When I threw the entrails into the water, it even chased them down the riverbank—I suppose it thought such hard-won food shouldn’t be wasted so easily.

Cleaning, skinning, and butchering didn’t take long. Last night’s fire still smoldered; I added some sticks and vines, and soon the flames were crackling once more.

I skewered the rabbit meat on branches and, unable to contain my anticipation, began cooking it over the fire.

Gradually, the aroma of roasting meat filled the cabin.

Little Black lay on the ground, tongue lolling, staring at me intently. I could clearly hear it swallowing in anticipation.

It must be starving, I thought.

Under the blaze, the meat turned a rich, saucy brown. Fat melted and sizzled, dripping onto the coals, and each droplet made the flames leap.

I wasn’t watching so closely by choice—the aroma was simply irresistible.

At moments like this, time always seems to pass slowly.

A few days ago, I had boiled sea water in coconut shells several times and managed to obtain some salt crystals, one of my most precious possessions so far.

I had been reluctant to use it, but today, I finally could.

At the side of my “bed,” I picked up a bundle wrapped in leaves and gently unfolded it. A small cluster of yellow-white salt crystals appeared.

Pinching a bit between my fingers, I sprinkled it evenly over a rabbit leg, watching it melt and seep into the meat.

Little Black’s rabbit leg was ready. To help it cook faster, I had split all the legs open.

It must have been Little Black’s first time eating roast rabbit, too; it bit off half the leg in one go, chewed a few times, and swallowed it down.

It never ate fruit like this—then, it would nibble delicately, bit by bit.

Before I had even started eating, it had finished and fixed its pleading gaze on me.

I wasn’t stingy—after all, it had caught the rabbit—so I gave Little Black more than half of the meat, then began to savor the rest myself.

I had to admit, the meat was wonderfully chewy, the aroma tantalizing my senses. Despite having used no seasonings except salt, there was not a trace of gaminess.

Perhaps it was because the rabbit was wild; the meat was especially fresh and firm. If not for Little Black, I might have forgotten the taste of meat altogether.

In the midst of this delicious feast, we devoured the entire plump rabbit.

Little Black was methodical as it ate. It finished the meat first, and now it was crunching the bones.

Once full, the urge to rest, to lie down, comes unbidden.

I was just about to lie down for a bit when a thought suddenly flashed through my mind.

“Little Black, where did you catch this rabbit? Can you take me to see?”

I didn’t know if it could understand, but it was worth a try. I pointed at the bone it was gnawing.

It glanced at me but ignored me, continuing to crunch away.

“If you take me, we might catch another rabbit and roast it again.”

Fearing it still didn’t understand, I waited until it looked up, then mimed roasting meat over the fire with a stick, pointing at the rabbit bones on the ground.

This time, I think it understood. It stood up, wagged its tail, and walked outside.

Naturally, I followed it out immediately. I wanted to see where these rabbits lived, as I had never seen them before.

Little Black kept to the riverbank, moving quickly. I gradually fell behind, but luckily, it would look back every so often and wait for me if I was too slow.

At last, after passing through a stretch of forest, Little Black and I arrived at a valley.

I had never been here before, nor had I seen it from the mountaintop, as the valley was surrounded by tall trees. At the bottom lay a large open space.

There was only one gentle slope leading down; the rest was bordered by nearly vertical cliffs.

The valley was vast—at least two or three kilometers across.

Excited, Little Black raced down the slope and lay low in a particular spot.

I hurried after it. This really could be a place for rabbits; a lush, emerald meadow stretched across the valley floor—the perfect paradise for them.

Suddenly, Little Black sprang into action, dashing at full speed. Ahead, a large rabbit was fleeing in panic—fat, big, with gray-black fur that stood out against the green.

This rabbit was clever, darting in circles, but Little Black was much faster—it was simply too plump to escape.

At last, Little Black pinned it with a paw. Even as it struggled desperately, Little Black gave it no chance—lowering its head, it bit down hard.

With the rabbit’s neck gripped in its jaws, Little Black didn’t hesitate; it lifted the rabbit and shook it violently.

Blood flowed, staining the gray fur a deep red.

Little Black held the rabbit for a moment, then dashed back toward me.

Stopping before me, it dropped the rabbit at my feet and wagged its tail.

“Well done. I’ll roast it for you tonight,” I said, patting its head with a smile.

Hearing this, Little Black turned away, sniffed the ground, and ran to another spot.

Curious, I followed to see what it was up to.

I soon understood—beside it was a hole as wide as my hand. This must be where it waited for rabbits to emerge, striking at the perfect moment.

As we walked on, I saw rabbit holes everywhere. I began to consider whether I should capture some young ones next time to raise and breed.

Rabbits would be immensely useful to me.

Their pelts could be made into clothing, roofing, bedding. Their meat was delicious and nourishing. Most importantly, if they could be bred, their food—fresh grass—was abundant and easy to come by.