The next morning, the forest outside was damp from another short rain. The air smelled fresh, earthy, and heavy with moisture. She looked at the cave, thinking about the food they had gathered—the mangoes, wild vegetables, tubers, and the occasional rabbit meat.
Storing it near the fire had kept it accessible, but the warmth also made it spoil faster. She needed a cooler place, somewhere deep in the cave where the temperature stayed low and food could last longer.
"Come on, love," she said to her daughter, "we're going to make a proper storage."
Her daughter watched with wide eyes as she carefully moved stones and scraped away the loose soil near the back wall of the cave. Using a stick sharpened with her stone blade, she dug into the hard earth, scraping and scraping until she could see a small cavity forming. She wiped the sweat and dirt from her brow, ignoring the soreness in her hands, determined to create a space that would help them survive.
Once the first hollow was dug, she began carving a few rough shelves from flat stones and sturdy sticks, pressing them into the cooler soil. She tested each shelf carefully, placing small mangoes and leaves of tropical spinach on them. The space was tight but dry, and the cool earth kept the food fresh.
Her daughter brought leaves, twigs, and small stones to help reinforce the shelves, working alongside her mother. The two of them crouched in the damp back of the cave, hands scratched, backs stiff, but their spirits lifted with each shelf they completed.
By mid-afternoon, the storage area was functional. She stacked what they could fit—mangoes, tubers, wild spinach, and a few preserved scraps of rabbit meat—all protected from the warmth of the cave entrance and any damp that might creep in from outside.
She leaned back against the cave wall, exhausted but satisfied. "Good job, love," she said, hugging her daughter. "Now we can keep food safe for longer, and we won't have to worry about it spoiling so fast."
Her hands throbbed from the digging, but she smiled through the pain. Every small improvement mattered. Every shelf, every collected fruit, every bit of firewood was a step toward making this cave a real shelter—a safe place for the two of them in the middle of a wild, unpredictable island.
As night fell and the rain softened outside, she lay beside her daughter, feeling the warmth of the cave and the security of their new food storage. For the first time in days, she allowed herself a deep, steady breath. They were surviving. And they were learning how to thrive.
The next morning, the forest outside was damp from another short rain. The air smelled fresh, earthy, and heavy with moisture. She looked at the cave, thinking about the food they had gathered—the mangoes, wild vegetables, tubers, and the occasional rabbit meat.
Storing it near the fire had kept it accessible, but the warmth also made it spoil faster. She needed a cooler place, somewhere deep in the cave where the temperature stayed low and food could last longer.
"Come on, love," she said to her daughter, "we're going to make a proper storage."
Her daughter watched with wide eyes as she carefully moved stones and scraped away the loose soil near the back wall of the cave. Using a stick sharpened with her stone blade, she dug into the hard earth, scraping and scraping until she could see a small cavity forming. She wiped the sweat and dirt from her brow, ignoring the soreness in her hands, determined to create a space that would help them survive.
Once the first hollow was dug, she began carving a few rough shelves from flat stones and sturdy sticks, pressing them into the cooler soil. She tested each shelf carefully, placing small mangoes and leaves of tropical spinach on them. The space was tight but dry, and the cool earth kept the food fresh.
Her daughter brought leaves, twigs, and small stones to help reinforce the shelves, working alongside her mother. The two of them crouched in the damp back of the cave, hands scratched, backs stiff, but their spirits lifted with each shelf they completed.
By mid-afternoon, the storage area was functional. She stacked what they could fit—mangoes, tubers, wild spinach, and a few preserved scraps of rabbit meat—all protected from the warmth of the cave entrance and any damp that might creep in from outside.
She leaned back against the cave wall, exhausted but satisfied. "Good job, love," she said, hugging her daughter. "Now we can keep food safe for longer, and we won't have to worry about it spoiling so fast."
Her hands throbbed from the digging, but she smiled through the pain. Every small improvement mattered. Every shelf, every collected fruit, every bit of firewood was a step toward making this cave a real shelter—a safe place for the two of them in the middle of a wild, unpredictable island.
As night fell and the rain softened outside, she lay beside her daughter, feeling the warmth of the cave and the security of their new food storage. For the first time in days, she allowed herself a deep, steady breath. They were surviving. And they were learning how to thrive.
The next morning, after a night of steady rain, she decided it was time to explore a part of the forest they hadn't yet seen. Her daughter walked close behind, careful with every step on the damp ground. The mountain side stretched higher and wilder than they had expected, with dense foliage and tangled vines forming a maze of green.
As she pushed through the undergrowth, she spotted something bright and round hanging from a tree—a cluster of passion fruits. She carefully plucked a few, their purple-brown skins smooth and firm. A little further, another tree revealed papayas, heavy and golden in the branches. Her heart lifted; the fruits would last for days and provide essential vitamins and energy for both of them.
"Look, love," she said softly, showing her daughter the fruits. "We'll have something fresh today."
They gathered as many as they could carry, wrapping them gently in large leaves to protect them on the walk back. The forest floor was wet, and her daughter's shoes were now soaked through, but the little girl didn't complain—her excitement over the fruits was enough to keep her moving.
Back at the cave, they added the passion fruits and papayas to their newly built storage area. The cool back wall kept the fruits safe, and she arranged them carefully so nothing would get squashed. She cut a small piece of papaya to taste and handed a slice to her daughter. The sweet, soft flesh was a delightful change from the earthy vegetables and roasted rabbit meat.
"This is amazing, Mom!" her daughter said, eyes wide as she savored the flavor.
She smiled, feeling a small burst of relief and pride. The storage shelves were now filled with enough food to last several days. Mangoes, taro, tropical spinach, wild vegetables, rabbit, papaya, and passion fruit—they had a small but sustainable larder.
Afterward, they sat near the fire, eating a little, sipping water, and planning the next steps. Her mind wandered to traps, further exploration, and the distant hills she had yet to investigate. For now, though, she allowed herself a rare moment of contentment. They were safe, fed, and growing stronger together, one careful step at a time in the heart of the wild island.