American Hunting: Starting with Solitary Life in the Wilderness

Chapter 189 Silent Companion?
As night deepened, the fire inside the shelter flickered, casting a warm orange-red hue on the stone walls.

It's time to enjoy a high-calorie dinner to make up for the energy deficit from today's long journey.

He went outside the shelter, lifted the camouflage layer of snow covering the 55-gallon barrel, and unscrewed the heavy lid.

A cold, mixed aroma of various seafood wafted towards me.

He chose the star of today's dinner: a deep-sea red fish that had been perfectly flash-frozen and previously found on the southern coastline.

This fish isn't very big, weighing just over a pound, but it's entirely orange-red and plump, clearly a type rich in oil.

Back in his warm shelter, he placed the red fish popsicles and a handful of frozen capelin by the fireplace, letting them thaw slowly in the radiant heat.

As the red fish's body began to soften, he skillfully gutted it with his hunting knife.

Unlike flounder, this red fish's liver isn't very large, so we carefully removed it.

Then, carefully scrape off the thick layer of white fat adhering to the inner wall of the fish's belly with the blade of a knife.

"Deep-sea fish typically have a high fat content to withstand low temperatures and high pressure." He placed these precious fats and fish livers into a preheated stainless steel pot.

He didn't add anything; he just patiently simmered it over a low flame.

Under the influence of low temperature, the fish liver and fatty tissue begin to slowly melt, and clear golden fish oil slowly seeps out from the tissue, making a slight "sizzling" sound.

The entire shelter was once again filled with that rich and unique aroma of oils.

A few minutes later, when the fat and fish liver in the pot were rendered into the familiar crispy and caramelized "cracklings," I picked them out, sprinkled them with a little sea salt, and popped them into my mouth to quickly replenish my first wave of energy.

Now, only a layer of clear, scalding hot oil remains in the pot.

He threw the whole capelins into the oil, and after the high temperature quickly fried them until they were golden brown and crispy, he scooped out these energy snacks.

Then, the red fish, whose internal organs had been removed, was cut into several large pieces and pan-fried in a pot.

The fish skin shrinks rapidly in the hot oil, becoming crispy and fragrant, while the snow-white fish meat is fried in its own oil until tender and juicy.

This dinner was simple and straightforward, yet packed with calories and protein.

He carefully poured the remaining fish oil into the container made of seashells and waited for it to cool and solidify, thus increasing his edible oil reserves.

On the twenty-fourth day, the sky was just beginning to lighten.

Lin Yu'an did not go out immediately after sunrise as usual; he knew that today would be a pure "construction day."

This open space in front of the shelter will become his open-air workshop.

He had the few fried capelin he had prepared the night before for breakfast, along with some boiling water, quickly replenishing his energy. Then, he began to take stock and prepare his tools for the day.

He took out his forest axe and checked the sharpness of the blade. Then, he took out the triangular saw that he rarely used.

He simply explained to the camera: "For frame building, the axe is responsible for strength, while the saw is responsible for precision."

Finally, he neatly coiled the thin nylon rope that he had taken from the cable and hung it around his waist.

With all his tools ready, he set off for the willow grove on the riverbank.

As he walked, he planned: "To ensure portability, this ice fishing shed doesn't need to be too big. Its length is about two meters, just enough for me to lie down and rest."

"When unfolded, the height is about 1.3 meters and the width is 1.5 meters, which is enough for me to sit inside and operate, while also accommodating a small brazier for warmth, and even having space to process the catch."

Finally arriving at the willow grove, we began selecting materials for the A-shaped keel, choosing only the willow trunks with the best flexibility, those with a diameter between three and four centimeters, a length close to four meters.

He used a handsaw to begin cutting, the saw teeth rubbing against the wood fibers, making a rhythmic "swish" sound.

More than an hour later, he had collected four "keel" materials that met the requirements, as well as a large number of thin willow twigs with a diameter of one to two centimeters for weaving and stuffing.

He bundled the materials into several large bundles, dragged them back to the open space in front of the shelter, and began building the ice fishing shed.

He first drew the outline of an isosceles triangle with a base width of about 1.7 meters and a height of about 1.6 meters on the snow. This is the side view of the ice fishing shed after it was built.

He picked up the first, thickest, and most flexible willow branch and carefully placed it beside the fire, using the radiant heat to slowly and evenly heat it, increasing its flexibility and preventing it from cracking when bent.

Then, he carefully and forcefully bent the warm willow twig into a perfect A-shape, with the apex of the triangle as the center.

He firmly planted the two 'legs' of the A-shaped keel into the snow, temporarily securing it.

Then, he used the same method to make three more identical A-shaped keels.

Now, he has laid out these four A-shaped keel bones in a row on the snow, forming a tunnel-like structure about two meters long, composed of the four A-shaped skeletons.

He said to the camera, "The keel is in place, now we begin weaving. Use the 'weft threads' to lock all the keels together to form a sturdy whole."

He picked up a thinner willow twig as a weft thread and wrapped it around one of the "legs" of the first A-shaped keel several times to secure it.

Then, start by going around the outside of the first keel, then through the inside of the second keel, then the outside of the third keel, and the inside of the fourth keel...

The willow branch in his hand moved back and forth between the parallel A-shaped keel in a wave-like pattern of "inside and out".

Each time he passed through, he would stop and use a flattened piece of wood as a pusher to forcefully push and press the newly woven row of "weft threads" upwards to ensure that the woven wall surface was tight and seamless.

Lin Yu'an's movements became increasingly fluid. The willow branches, with varying shades of bark color, intertwined in his hands, slowly connecting the four independent A-shaped keels into a sturdy yet flexible whole.

With great patience, he started from the bottom and wove upwards row by row.

When the weaving reached about half a meter off the ground, he cleverly changed the weaving technique, naturally weaving a "willow loop" through the wooden pole on the inside of each A-shaped keel.

He pointed to the delicate rope loops and explained, "These are the slots used to secure the struts."

When he finally finished weaving both walls, a two-meter-long, fully integrated, foldable willow shed structure appeared before him.

He laid the semi-finished product down like a huge wicker plank, and then easily unfolded it into an A-shape.

The curve at the top forms a perfect, resilient natural "hinge".

He pointed to the two triangular openings at the front and back of the A-shaped shed and said, "The main structure is complete. This structure is open at both ends, and the wind will come in through the openings. My plan is to use snow to seal one end."

"I will place the end of the shed that I want to block out facing the direction of the wind, and then build a thick, crescent-shaped snow wall on its outside, which will effectively block the strong winds. The opening at the other end will be on the sheltered side."

Only after completing all of this did he begin making the final "ice spikes." "To make the spikes, we need hardwood."

Lin Yu'an pulled out a birch trunk as thick as his forearm from the pile of wood: "Birch is hard and has a fine texture. It is the most reliable hard bone in the northern forest. Ground nails made from it are strong enough to withstand the pull of strong winds."

He used a handsaw to cut four pieces of wood, each about thirty centimeters long, from the birch trunk covered with silvery-white bark.

Then, turn the axe to the side and use its sharp edge, like using a huge carving knife, to start from one end of the wood blank and cut downwards layer by layer along the wood grain, quickly shaping the tip of the wood blank.

Then, he switched to his hunting knife, picked up a whittled wooden stake, and carved a deep groove around the stake about three centimeters from the end of its flat tail.

"This groove must be deep enough to hold the rope firmly in place and prevent it from slipping during use."

He used the side of the blade to repeatedly scrape the inner wall of the groove until it became smooth and round, as if it had been polished.

Only after all this is done can a perfect "ice spike" be considered truly complete.

He meticulously made three more ground stakes using the same method.

As night falls, the flickering firelight from the fireplace inside the shelter bathes the walls in a warm orange-red hue.

Lin Yu'an neatly stacked all the components he had made that day—the integrated willow shed, two bracing rods, and four ground stakes—at the entrance of the shelter, awaiting their first real-world test on the frozen lake.

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As night falls, the flickering firelight from the fireplace inside the shelter bathes the walls in a warm orange-red hue.

Lin Yu'an didn't rush to rest. The day's experiences and that vibrant face had left his thoughts somewhat chaotic and unsettled.

He got up and, using the light of the roaring campfire, rehearsed assembling all the parts he had made that day on the snow in front of the shelter.

He unfolded two wicker mats, attached support poles, and a compact and sturdy A-shaped hut stood firmly in the darkness.

He then used the accumulated snow to simulate building a snow wall at one end, but his thoughts involuntarily drifted to the dark green box lying quietly in the corner.

The "heat" brought by Dr. McCorz Lane did not subside with the arrival of night; instead, it became even clearer in the lonely and silent polar night.

It burned like a small, stubborn flame deep within him, driving him forward.

Lin Yu'an stopped what he was doing, hesitated for a moment, but ultimately could not resist the impulse. He walked back to the shelter, opened the heavy box, and took out the dark blue journal again.

Instead of opening the logbook, he carefully pulled out the ID card from the inside of the cover.

In the firelight, Dr. McCormick in the photograph seemed to come alive; his eyes, which held a hint of challenge, and the faint smile at the corner of his mouth appeared particularly lively in the flickering light and shadow.

Lin Yu'an watched quietly, as if gazing at a long-lost friend.

“McClean,” he said almost silently, then smiled helplessly and carefully inserted the ID card back into its place.

But instead of closing the journal, he used the firelight to read it again.

This time, he skipped the rigorous scientific data and focused his attention on the "personal rants" in the margins.

These casual words paint a vivid picture of a soul more effectively than any data.

He saw that next to a note recording equipment malfunction, McCormick had drawn a small, cute little figure with a mournful face, and next to it was written: "Screw you, heat circulation pump! Do you just like to go on strike when it's minus thirty degrees? I swear, I'll go back and smash you into a piece of modern art with a hammer!"

Lin Yu'an couldn't help but smile slightly. He could even picture her stamping her feet, her breath steaming in the air, as she angrily wrote that sentence in her diary with her red, frozen fingers.

He gently ran his fingertips over the cartoon figure with its mournful face, as if he could feel the warmth and emotions lingering beneath the pages, belonging to another time and space.

He turned to another page. The top half of this page contained detailed data on the phototactic response of a certain type of krill under different salinity gradients, written in an extremely neat and rigorous font. The table was meticulous, with even the number of decimal places being completely consistent.

However, beneath this meticulous record, McCormick wrote a comment in her distinctly different, flamboyant, and scribbled handwriting.

“JC insisted that we only needed to record the data, but I secretly observed sample number 17 for a full ten minutes. It kept trying to scratch the glass wall with its appendages, like a clumsy puppy. These little guys were much more interesting than JC.”

Lin Yu'an couldn't help but laugh out loud. He could almost instantly picture JC's image: a meticulous to the point of being rigid, perhaps her colleague or superior, who only had eyes for data and processes, completely ignoring the vivid and interesting details behind science.

McCormick is clearly the kind of person who can find the sparks of life behind the dry data.

Lin Yu-an could imagine that when she excitedly shared her discovery that "krill can scratch themselves" with JC, she might only receive a puzzled or even slightly reproachful look, and a "This has nothing to do with our research topic."

Thus, this rant was born. This unlucky guy named JC will probably never know that his boringness has been recorded.

Lin Yu'an continued flipping through the logbook, and he even found a very simple four-panel comic strip drawn in pencil.

The first scene shows her excitedly drilling into an ice core.

The second compartment contains an ice core sample that accidentally slipped out.

The third frame shows her reaching out in terror to grab it.

In the fourth frame, she lies on the ice, facing a bottomless ice cave, with a string of angry symbols (#%&*!) appearing above her head.

With just a few simple strokes, the image of a young scientist who is passionate about his work but occasionally a bit reckless and frantic comes to life.

Lin Yu'an shook his head, a helpless smile on his face. He understood this feeling all too well!
In the polar environment, even the slightest mistake can render all previous efforts futile, and the frustration of falling from heaven to hell is enough to make one roar at the ice field.

Therefore, during his more than 50 days of wilderness survival, he strictly required himself to follow the plan and make sure to adjust his strategy at any time so as not to do anything that would make him regret it.

Lin Yu'an closed the journal and let out a long sigh of relief, but the "heat" in his heart had nowhere to go.

He imagined that, besides himself, there was another voice in his ear complaining about the weather and teasing his companions, as if she were right beside him.

Her presence will no longer be just a cold photograph, but a series of vivid memories, a silent yet interesting companionship, helping him through this difficult and cold time.

The idea was somewhat absurd, even out of step with the times, but it brought Lin Yu'an an unprecedented sense of comfort.

But after this solace, Lin Yu'an couldn't help but miss Arya, Ethan and Olivia, and even Emily.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

(It's 5 o'clock, guys, time for breakfast or sleep! JC)

(P.S.: I found a diary, and if it were me, I would definitely read it. The protagonist would do the same, adding a bit of fun to the tense survival situation. If you are completely unmoved, I would call you a true god.)
(Other players' perspectives will be written later, so please don't rush me, thank you.)
(End of this chapter)