Despite my best logging efforts, the trees still surround me. The nights howl with things best never seen, hiding behind the dense leaves, lying in pools of shadow like leaches in a fetid pool. As the sun began to go down I knew it would be another sleepless night of reinforcing barricades and rebuilding the fortress walls.
I’ve finally finished passing in the second story windows, more for protection from a draft than any defensive value. The third story railing collapsed while I was out, meaning I had too waste the time to replace that, this time with stone.
While putting in the last touches I looked down to spot movement near my garden. The picture may be blurry, but I believe there is something scouting my dwindling food supply.
Speaking of farming, my idea of coming here in the middle of winter seems ever more foolhardy. The frost has yet to leave the soil and another blanket of snow was laid down overnight, putting rest to any hopes of survival I had.
The sense of satisfaction of seeing another dawn almost makes the night proceeding it worthwhile.
