Snow hissed against the sturdy log walls as I banked the clay oven’s embers. Inside my compact wilderness shelter, the air hung warm and fragrant with woodsmoke and simmering pine-needle tea. This simple cob oven, crafted from mud and straw, was my lifeline—radiating gentle heat long after the fire died. Using core survival skills, I’d insulated the walls with moss and layered my bed with spruce boughs. Now, stew bubbled slowly within the oven’s retained warmth, a small luxury defying the sub-zero night. Safe, fed, and dry, the howling wind outside only deepened my profound gratitude for this cozy, hard-won sanctuary.
