Beneath the shattered trunk and tangled roots of a lightning-struck oak, we carved our hidden refuge. Shovels bit into the cool, damp earth, hauling away decades of leaf litter and decay. The cavity deepened, shielded by the tree’s massive, fallen crown – nature’s perfect camouflage. Inside, we smoothed earthen walls and packed a thick floor of clay. Our hearth was the heart: a sturdy, hollowed log, its interior coated with fire-resistant clay, forming a crude but functional fireplace. Smoke curled discreetly through root fissures. Here, in the damp, woody silence beneath the ruins, warmed by the log’s gentle heat, we found sanctuary – a secret world built within nature’s own wreckage.
