The morning greeted us with a warmth that seeped right through the thatched walls of the hut.
Outside, the world felt alive with a frantic, cheerful bustling—the sound of tiny footsteps, melodic whistling, and the rhythmic thud-thud of wooden tools from a far distance, indicating construction was in process.
The sun was already a scorching golden orb high in the sky, carrying the foreboding winter chill in the atmosphere. It was probably around noon or maybe close to noon.
We slept quite late so it's understandable if we woke up around noon.
That's right. I still have to teach the days of the week. But even if I say that, how can I tell which day is Tuesday or Wednesday when no one took note of it before now?
But if I use the day I fell into this world as the starting point then today is probably...
"...Sunday," I muttered out of my sleep.
I groaned softly, blinking against the light filtering through the reeds.
