Surrounded by Shadows
The stone axe swung down, biting deep into the log. Monia lifted the log, axe still embedded, and slammed it down once more. With a satisfying, resonant crack, the wood split clean along the grain.
Having split the log in half, Monia took one of the halves, studied the grain for a brief moment, and swung the stone axe again. Crack! This time, the wood split in a single blow.
After splitting the other half the same way, she gathered the four pieces of firewood into a basket and fetched a fresh log. Once she had split all the logs, Monia climbed up the ladder.
The newly built ladder led directly to the firewood shed. Reaching the platform in front of the shed, Monia grabbed the rope tied to the basket below and began to pull.
"Hup!" It was incredibly heavy for her, but she gritted her teeth and hauled the rope up inch by inch. Though her shoulders burned as if they might pop out of their sockets, she clenched her jaw and pulled the firewood all the way to the top.
"Phew!" After tossing the wood into the shed, Monia climbed back down with the empty basket. By the time her feet touched the ground, her exhausted limbs were trembling violently.
"Ugh..." Massaging her aching shoulders, Monia glanced up. Chester, who had climbed up at some point, was effortlessly hauling up a load of firewood three times the size of hers in one go.
Watching him in awe, Monia began gathering the smaller branches they had trimmed from the logs. She packed the basket full of kindling and climbed the ladder once more.
While Chester stacked the wood inside, Monia pulled up the basket, handed it to him, and then went back down to split more logs. Once Chester finished organizing the shed, he joined her on the ground and began splitting wood as well.
The weather was growing colder by the day. In such freezing temperatures, two people clad in tattered rags couldn't afford to wander outside. Chester had warned her that if she didn't want her fingers and toes to freeze off while hunting and chopping wood in the dead of winter, they had to stockpile as much as possible now.
He had even told her to prepare for a winter far harsher than the storm they had endured. Worse than the storm! Monia didn't even want to imagine it, let alone experience it. So, she worked tirelessly, preparing with everything she had.
Thanks to their relentless efforts, they managed to pack the massive, cabin-sized wood shed to the brim in just a few days. Firewood was stacked high to the ceiling. Branches were crammed into one side, and kindling was tightly packed into the corners. To Monia, it looked like enough wood to keep a fire burning for a lifetime.
I'm still uneasy. But Chester thought otherwise. He knew that this wouldn't be enough to survive a harsh winter. If the island's winter dragged on, they would eventually have to venture outside to replenish their supply.
I'll have to prepare myself. He planned to conserve as much wood as possible and change their fire-building methods to stretch their resources, but there was only so much they could do.
The weather is so clear, though. Despite his lingering anxiety, the sky had remained cloudless and bright ever since the rain stopped.
The day after filling the shed with firewood, Chester and Monia set out to gather food. They planned to make a massive batch of preserved rations by salting, sun-drying, and smoking whatever they caught. After checking the fish traps in the river as usual, they roamed the forest to inspect their land traps.
Two rodents were caught in the tree traps. A small mammal was caught in a snare. And a bird lay dead, its head crushed under a figure-four deadfall trap.
"What's this?" While inspecting the traps, Chester noticed something strange at another figure-four deadfall trap.
"What is it?" Monia asked.
"No, it's just..." The deadfall trap had definitely been triggered. Judging by the blood and fur left beneath the heavy stone, something had been crushed. Yet, there was nothing there. The prey was gone.
Did it escape? Perhaps a creature sturdy enough to survive the crushing weight of the stone had managed to wriggle free. But Chester's instincts told him otherwise.
There are signs of digging from the outside of the trap. Someone—or something—had dug a hole to pull the trapped creature out.
An intelligent creature. To look at the trap and think to dig a tunnel to rescue its companion. Chester examined the surrounding tracks. The color of the fur left on the stone. The paw prints pressed into the dirt. The clues quickly pointed to a single conclusion.
An Ant-wolf. When one of them got caught in the trap, its packmates had dug it out.
Ant-wolves never hunt alone, after all. But this was strange. This shouldn't be their territory. Had they expanded their hunting grounds? Why would they do that? Had they lost a turf war?
No. Ant-wolves dig deep dens and establish permanent bases. They don't abandon their territory easily. Chester had thoroughly observed and researched any creature that posed a threat. A single den housed at least ten adult Ant-wolves. Including the pups, which stayed strictly near the den, a single pack could easily exceed thirty members. Would such a massive pack abandon their home to start anew?
They would fight to the death first. Unless a pack of bears attacked them, very few creatures on this island could best a pack of Ant-wolves. That meant there was another reason. But what?
... Chester suspected the changing weather. If animal behavior was shifting so drastically right now, the climate was the most logical culprit. The birds have been disappearing lately. It meant they were migrating ahead of the cold. The Ant-wolves' behavior would naturally change as well. If they're expanding their territory... it's to find food.
His theory was confirmed at the next trap. It wasn't unusual for wild animals to tamper with their traps. Usually, they would mess with them a bit, eat the caught prey, and leave. This time, however, the trap was completely demolished, surrounded by a mess of Ant-wolf tracks.
"What on earth is this?" Monia gasped.
"Ant-wolves."
"Why couldn't they just take the food and leave? Why did they have to destroy it like this?"
"How should I know?"
Despite his dismissive reply, Chester had a good idea of what had happened. To the highly intelligent Ant-wolves, seeing other beasts die to these strange wooden contraptions must have been fascinating. Intelligent creatures know how to utilize tools. They had tried to use the trap. A mysterious object that produced food if left alone—how could they resist trying to figure it out?
Though I have no idea what exactly they were trying to do to end up breaking it. Unlike ordinary beasts that merely snatched the bait, these creatures had tried to manipulate the mechanism. Not that they could do much without proper hands and shoulders. What did humans possess to compensate for their physically weaker bodies? Superior intellect, hands, and shoulders.
...It might be dangerous to stay here any longer. Since he didn't know how far the Ant-wolves had expanded their territory, wandering around blindly was too risky.
"Monia."
"Those stupid, brainless mutts! How dare they! My trap! I worked so hard on this! Grrr—yes, what is it?" Monia, who had been fuming at the ruined trap, quickly composed herself when Chester called her name.
"We're pulling back."
"What? But we haven't checked the rest of the traps in this area yet."
"I know. That's why we need to leave while we still can."
"?" Monia tilted her head, not quite understanding his urgency, but she nodded anyway and began packing up. As Chester turned to leave—
...Chester saw it. Monia likely hadn't noticed, but it was clear as day to him. Far off in the shadows of the dense foliage, a pair of beastly eyes glinted. The bushes rustled in a way that had nothing to do with the wind. In the corner of his vision, fresh tracks that hadn't been there moments ago caught his eye.
The heavy scent of the ruined traps had masked it before, but now, the unmistakable, pungent musk of wild predators was beginning to choke the air.
"Chester? What's wrong?"
"Shh." Chester placed a firm hand on Monia's shoulder as she stepped closer, forcing his own tense muscles to relax. Every single one of his honed senses, along with the flood of information they gathered, screamed a single warning. They were surrounded by Ant-wolves.
"Pant... pant...!" If the man possessed a single weapon, it was his sheer, absurd luck. For a complete novice who had never embarked on a proper adventure or expedition to recklessly set sail and actually stumble upon the Floating Island was nothing short of a miracle.
How many souls throughout history had wasted their lives searching for the Floating Island? Out of those countless seekers, this man had found it, proving his luck was truly blessed by the heavens. And thanks to that celestial fortune, though his body and mind had withered to near nothingness, he had managed to survive all the way to this point.
The final region of the Floating Island. A demonic realm where not a single beast of the island dared to tread, fearing for their lives. The sanctuary where the true rulers of the Floating Island resided. The man was currently climbing the mountain, heading toward the summit of the Floating Island.
"Just... just a little higher...!" His starved, broken body and his decaying mind were fueled only by the sheer greed of his delusions. Driven by the desperate hope of finding a non-existent "divine treasure," the man whipped his failing body forward, dragging himself up the treacherous slopes.
"Once I reach the top...!" Even if he reached the summit, nothing awaited him. Yet, the man smiled radiantly, marching straight toward his own demise.