Deep within the whispering pines, survival demanded secrecy. My eyes locked onto a colossal, hollowed oak stump—nature’s hidden vault. With stone axe and bone knife, I excavated downward into the damp earth beneath its roots, carving a cramped but vital dugout. Moss and ferns camouflaged the entrance; fallen branches became roof supports. Inside, packed earth walls held the forest’s chill at bay. This earthen womb, hidden by towering trunks and thick undergrowth, was more than shelter—it was my silent fortress, a secret dungeon where firelight flickered unseen, and survival took root in the heart of the wild.
