Deep in the wilderness, I hastily stacked fallen logs into a lean-to against a sturdy pine, weaving branches for insulation. Night fell fast, and with it came danger. Snuffling and grunting echoed through the trees—wild boars, aggressive and territorial. I’d heard tales of their midnight raids. Heart pounding, I reinforced my shelter’s entrance with thorny brush, keeping my knife ready. The boars circled, tusks glinting in moonlight, but the log barrier held. Dawn broke, revealing trampled earth but an intact refuge. In the wild, shelter isn’t just comfort—it’s your first line of defense.
