The next morning, after a night of restless sleep near the rocky wall, we began our ascent up the mountain. Each step was exhausting, my legs burning from the climb, blisters reminding me with every movement that we were far from comfortable. Kate held my hand tightly, following every careful step, her small frame surprisingly strong despite the fatigue.
Halfway up the mountain, I spotted something promising: a cave nestled into the rocky slope. Its entrance was wide enough for us to walk in without crouching, and the interior stretched deeper than I had expected—roomy enough to make a proper shelter. Relief washed over me. This place could protect us from rain, wind, and any wild animals daring enough to approach.
We stepped inside cautiously, eyes scanning every shadow, listening for signs of danger. It was empty, silent, and untouched. Perfect. I gestured for Kate to follow, and she scampered in, peering around with wide, curious eyes. "We can stay here," I whispered, almost in disbelief. "We're safe, at least for now."
Outside, I gathered long grasses and plants growing near the cave entrance. Together, we layered them on the floor, fashioning a rough nest to sleep on. It wasn't perfect, but it lifted us off the cold stone and gave some comfort. Kate helped as best as she could, giggling softly when a stray leaf tickled her arm.
Once the nest was made, I focused on fire. I set up the flames just in front of the cave entrance—enough to keep animals at bay, but low and contained so smoke wouldn't carry too far. The fire's warmth spread, filling the small alcove with a comforting glow. For the first time in days, I allowed myself to relax slightly, feeling the weight of constant vigilance ease just a little.
We were high enough on the mountain that other survivors below wouldn't spot us, and for now, that was exactly how I wanted it. Far from the chaos, far from the people who had turned desperate and dangerous. I hugged Kate close as she sat near the fire, letting the warmth seep into our tired bodies.
"This will be our home for a while," I whispered. "We can rest, recover, and plan our next move. Safe, hidden… together."
For the first time in days, I let my thoughts drift toward tomorrow, thinking about exploring the mountain further, finding fresh water, and maybe even spotting signs of edible plants or small game. But for now, this cave, this little sanctuary, was enough.
Morning came slowly, stretching the shadows across the cave. My body and mind finally felt the relief of hard-earned sleep. Kate, ever curious and eager to help, poked at the last embers of the fire, carefully adding more sticks to coax the flames back to life. Her small hands moved with surprising steadiness, and I couldn't help but smile.
I lifted the bamboo bottle to my lips, taking a long, satisfying sip of fresh water. "Good girl," I said, rubbing her hair gently. She smiled up at me and hugged me tightly, her warmth and trust filling the hollow cave.
I pushed myself to stand, surveying the view from the cave entrance. Below stretched the dense forest, a green sea of possibility and danger. For now, it seemed quiet. The wild cat had not returned, and the distant sounds of other survivors were absent—no screams, no chaos. We were far from the destructive wave that had haunted my dreams, and even farther from the madness of desperate humans who had already lost their sense of morality.
I let myself breathe slowly, thinking. For now, survival was simple: water, food, warmth. Those were the priorities. Everything else—safety, exploration, planning—would come later, but the basics had to be secure first.
Water was close enough from the small stream we had discovered, but I needed to ensure it remained safe to drink and carry. Food could be gathered from the plants around the mountain, and perhaps small game if I stayed alert. Warmth meant tending the fire carefully, keeping it contained yet alive, to protect us from animals and the chill of the mountain air.
I crouched next to Kate, watching her fingers play with the fire. "We have enough for today," I whispered. "We eat, drink, stay warm, and we survive."
Her eyes lit up, and she nodded, trusting me completely. I held her close, letting the fire's warmth seep into both of us. The cave, the mountain, the quiet forest below—it all felt like a fragile sanctuary, but it was ours for now.
As the morning light spilled into the cave, I began to plan our next steps. Small, careful moves, one day at a time. Water, food, warmth—then exploration, then security. Survival wasn't just about staying alive—it was about making sure we stayed alive together.
We spent the morning exploring the immediate area around the cave, collecting fruits, wild vegetables, and any other edible plants we could find. Large leaves became our makeshift baskets, holding our modest bounty as we carefully carried it back to the cave. I arranged everything inside, making sure it was organized enough that we could access it quickly without disturbing our resting space.
As I surveyed our temporary home, a thought struck me: we were safe for now, but if we were going to stay here for a while to recover and regain strength, we needed more protection. Animals could come at any time, and even the wind could make the cave feel less secure. A door—some sort of barrier—was needed.
I ventured into the forest, eyes scanning for usable materials. I broke off longer sticks and gathered them, balancing them carefully as I carried them back to the cave. Each step was heavy, but determination pushed me forward. Once at the entrance, I laid the sticks across the opening, arranging them in a crude frame.
Rope—or anything resembling it—was the problem. I scanned the forest again and found several thick vines, twisting and strong. I tugged them free, careful not to damage them too much, and returned to the cave.
With patience and effort, I wove the vines through the sticks, twisting and knotting them into place. It wasn't perfect; the sticks didn't align evenly, and gaps remained, but it was enough. A crude door, big enough to cover the cave opening, took shape before my eyes.
I stepped back, wiping sweat from my brow. The door wouldn't stop a determined predator, but it was a start. It would keep out smaller animals, block wind, and give us a sense of privacy. Kate peeked from behind my legs, eyes wide with curiosity.
"Mommy… door?" she asked.
"Yes, my brave girl," I said, kneeling to hug her. "This is our door. It will help keep us safe while we rest and get stronger."
For a moment, we just sat together, watching our crude barrier sway slightly in the morning breeze. Survival wasn't about perfection—it was about making do, making choices, and protecting each other. And for now, that was exactly what we had done.