Alone in my subterranean cabin, the forest silence shattered at dusk. Grunts and snuffling echoed—wild boars, dozens of them, circling my buried home. Moonlight glinted off tusks as shadows pressed against the reinforced windows. My heart hammered; they sensed me. Roots creaked under their weight, dirt shifting above. I held my breath, flashlight off, praying the steel hatch held. Hours crawled by. Their chaos—digging, snarling, rooting—never ceased. Dawn finally broke, revealing trampled ferns and deep trenches. They’d vanished, but the message lingered in the torn earth: this was their realm. I was just a guest… barely tolerated.
