Well... that could have gone better.
Last night's grand plan to hunt a Beefalo? Complete failure. I'm not sure what I was expecting—maybe that the creature would simply drop dead after a few strikes, or that it would run in fear, but that's not what happened. No, the beast fought back. It bellowed so loudly that I thought the entire herd would come charging at me. Thankfully, only the one I attacked reacted, but its sheer size and strength were far more than I'd anticipated. It took everything I had just to escape with my life. I'm not sure how many hits it would take to bring one down, but more than I can manage with my current tools, that's for certain.
In retrospect, it was foolish to try without a proper weapon or strategy. The Beefalos are docile, yes, but once provoked... well, they're more than capable of defending themselves. I'll need to rethink my approach. A spear, maybe, or better armor. And if I try again, I'll need to isolate one from the herd. Getting trampled by a stampede isn't how I plan to go out. So, no Beefalo feast for me. Instead, I'll continue my humble diet of berries and the occasional rabbit until I'm better prepared. Winter is drawing closer and closer each day, though—I can feel it in the air—and I'll need something more substantial soon.
But today wasn't entirely a loss. As I wandered away from the Beefalo herd, licking my wounds and muttering about my own stupidity, I stumbled upon something... strange. A dirt pile. Not just any dirt pile, mind you—this one looked... suspicious. There were tracks leading away from it, almost like something large had passed through recently. Curiosity got the better of me, and I decided to follow the tracks. After all, there's little harm in investigating, right? This place is filled with strange and dangerous creatures, and I can't help but wonder what's leaving these marks. Something big, by the look of it. Perhaps it's another potential food source? Or maybe something more dangerous. Either way, it's worth finding out.
The tracks are leading me deeper into the wilderness, and I feel a mix of excitement and dread building with each step. It's the same feeling I had when I first saw the spiders—the thrill of discovery, tempered by the knowledge that something could go horribly wrong at any moment. But what else can I do? Sit by my campfire and wait for winter to claim me? No, I have to push forward, keep exploring, keep learning. Whatever made these tracks, it's not far ahead. I'll keep following, though I can't shake the feeling that I may regret it. But then again, this whole place is filled with regret, isn't it? Every day, every decision, could be the one that gets me killed. But without risk, there's no reward. That's what science is all about, after all—pushing boundaries, facing the unknown.
So, onward I go, into the great unknown, following the trail. Whatever lies at the end, I hope it will be tasty...