Survival in the Banna Rainforest, night of the ninth day.
Inside the shelter, faint snores arose.
On a nearby earthen mound, a huge dark shadow slowly protruded from the bushes, gazing at the shelter for several minutes before a soft rustling sound of digging reached the air.
The snoring stopped.
Bi Fang opened his eyes, stared blankly at the canopy above, sat up, scratched his hair, picked up a dry stick that had been whittled into a fish-scale shape and dipped in oil, and lit it before stepping outside the fence.
Under the glow of the fire, the sound of digging abruptly ceased.
After gazing dumbfounded for a few minutes, Bi Fang sleepily reinstated the bamboo gate and threw the torch into the campfire.
He went back to sleep.
...
Morning of the tenth day.
Sunlight shone in from outside the door.
