Using only fallen branches, vines, and wild materials, I wove a dome-shaped shelter sturdy enough to withstand wind and rain. The roof? A thick, living layer of emerald moss—naturally insulated and beautiful. Inside, I carved a shallow fire pit lined with flat stones, then built a smoke vent using angled poles. At night, the crackling fireplace cast dancing shadows on the woven walls, warming my bones as rain pattered softly above. No tools, no gear—just nature’s bounty and patience. This wasn’t just survival—it was art. I slept like a king beneath my mossy crown, heart full, soul at peace.
