Sleep was elusive over the night, and, in the few moments my eyes shut, monstrous groans haunted me from outside the walls. Whatever it is making those noises, I never want to meet it. I've never been so thankful for walls before.
When the sun rises and the doors open, I'm dead tired. To be honest, I think I drifted off for a few hours. Eventually, tired thought I may be, I ate a light breakfast and pushed myself to standing.
Today, it's time to put to the test one of the ideas I had yesterday. My shiny, unused saw is just begging to be tried out on one of these trees, and I know just the ones. Tall, straight, skinny trees, perfect for building. If I cut a dozen of them, I'll be able to map out my buildings and fences.
Cutting the trees was the easy part, and before long I'd finished. They fell easily, and I felt quite proud of my work.
Next, however, I had a problem. The trees were heavy. Very heavy. There was no way I'd get even one tree out without hurting myself, and I had a full dozen.
The answer came unexpectedly as I was thinking about cattle fences. Cattle are very large, strong animals, so fencing would have to be sturdy. Eureka! Why don't I get the cows to pull my trees? Somewhere in my past life, I read that in ancient times they used cattle to pull loads, so why not do that now?
Getting a roll of rope from my stores, I now faced the challenge of catching and harnessing a pair of animals who had never been tamed. But there were many animals, and little food left for them, so it was easy to coax them to me with pieces of apple.
The cows worked better than I had anticipated. With two animals pulling one tree, walking towards the reward of food, they easily pulled out the full dozen.
Now, looking at the pile of trees, I get to plan out my house. While I think about it, I'll strip the few side branches, so that I have a straight piece to work with.
The easiest shapes to build are either a rectangle or a square. I'll need plenty of space for storage, especially once my garden is producing, (although I haven't even started yet!) and I think I'll need a bedroom, because sleeping in the cold is leaving me stiff and tired in the morning. Thinking about it, I really want my own bedroom.
So my building needs two rooms. If I make the outside shape a rectangle, with one end being my room and the rest for storage, that'll save me some effort. I'm going to need to work out the doors, and also how to make the walls actually stand up.
If I cut holes in the sides of the log, then make pegs to go between a hole in one log and a hole in he one above, that'll help. But I don't think it'll be enough to hold up an entire wall, even it I did get the holes perfect. So I'll need another way of holding them up, too.
The fine branches could be woven in, and they will certainly help with the insulation, but I don't think they're strong enough to hold up the logs.
What I really need is rope. However I only have a limited supply of rope, and I need it for quite a lot of stuff. If only there was something I could use for rope! I've checked, but there are no leaves fibrous enough, and no grasses I could use.
Enough fretting about stuff I can't change. Lunch is next, although who knows it it's even the middle of the day. Without a sun, noon isn't obvious.
I have a nice supply of apples, but I'm saving the cores to plant. Assuming I live that long, and I'm still here, they'll be fruiting in a few years.
Eating a pair of apples and some dried meat, I look up at the tall walls that enclose my new home. They reach up a hundred feet or more towards the blank sky. High up, vines of ivy droop over the top of the wall.
Ivy?
Ivy would make a perfect rope, but I have no way of reaching that high into the sky. They reach over from plants on the outside.
Just thinking those words sends a jolt of fear through me. There is definitely something bad out there, and I like staying alive, thank you very much. But I have little choice. Either I cut ivy, or I build nothing, not even fences for a garden. Essentially, go out there, or I'm screwed.
Standing in one doorway, I peer out at the world beyond, but little can I see. The alley turns to the right, and from there I don't know what will happen. I take a deep breath and take a step into the corridor, expecting to hear at any moment the sound of the doors shutting on me. They stay silent, so I force out another step, and then another.
Turning the corner, I see the exact sight I wished for. Ivy grows thickly here, coating the walls in tough ropes, perfect for making my house and fences.
My knife made short work of the ropey lengths, which I looped over my arm and dragged back to safety.
My heart slowed it's frantic racing when I was once more inside my glade. I had quite a number of lengths of vine, so I began stacking the first trees for my walls, and tying them together with ivy, woven into the walls to make them solid.
Soon I had a pattern. Go to the forest, cut a dozen young trees, strip them, get the cattle to pull them back, get vines, build. Repeat.
The walls were about a third of their full height when the doors closed for night, and I was proud of my work. And very tired. The walls will need cladding in finer stems to make them wind and water resistant, but I'll do that later.
Tomorrow, I'm going to use the branches and twigs to make a fence for the animals. I'm sick of the chickens eating my food, and I really need to get a garden going.