The two dogs followed along behind me. They were surprisingly well-behaved.
I led them past the inner moat and the fence surrounding my living area, inviting them toward the campfire, but they refused to get close. I wondered if beasts were naturally afraid of fire, but it turned out I was wrong. The pair made a beeline for the carcass of the giant boar I had killed. Because the animal was so massive, I had only carved off what I needed and left the rest where it lay.
I suppose they were hungry. They must have been starving.
"Wait, hold on," I said.
The boar meat had been much tastier than the rabbit. I couldn't bring myself to hand over the entire thing. I quickly shifted the Universal Farming Tool into its Kitchen Knife form and set to work. I made sure to secure the haunch for myself first. Then I went for the loin and the fillet. The ribs proved to be no obstacle at all for the blade of the Universal Farming Tool.
I wrapped my portion of the meat in some oversized leaves I’d found while clearing the perimeter of the fields and carried them back to my tree-trunk home. Then, I gave the remaining carcass—bones and all—to the dogs. Both of them began devouring the boar with terrifying intensity. I had considered cutting the meat into smaller pieces to make it easier for them to eat, but it clearly wasn't necessary.
In any case, that task made me realize something: I needed a table.
Come to think of it, I had been living like a scavenger on the ground until now. I should have realized the need for furniture sooner.
I took a reasonably sized log and split it vertically down the middle. After creating two semi-circular halves, I shaved the rounded bottoms flat so they wouldn't roll away. Just like that, a rugged, rustic Long Table was complete. While I was at it, I put together a few Log Chairs as well. I felt like my standard of living had suddenly skyrocketed.
Even as I worked, the dogs continued to gorge themselves on the boar. They were eating an incredible amount. I began to suspect they were packing away more meat than their own body weight. Well, it was better than letting the meat go to waste.
Leaving the dogs to their meal, I turned my thoughts toward building a shed. Once the fields started producing a harvest, I would need a place to keep everything. It would be more of a Storehouse than a simple shed.
I approached the construction the same way I had built the Outhouse. With the Universal Farming Tool in hand, even my amateur skills were enough to get the job done. However, building a raised floor was too difficult for a novice like me. In the end, I finished a structure that looked remarkably similar to the Outhouse, only larger.
It was about the size of an eight-tatami mat room. I wanted plenty of space since it was intended for storage. By using thick timber for the four corner posts, I ensured it was structurally sound. I decided against laying down floorboards, leaving the bare earth exposed. I figured the ground would stay cooler, which would be better for preserving the harvest. Later on, I could build shelves to keep things organized.
Just as I was about to go fetch more lumber for the shelving, the dogs finished their meal. The boar had been picked clean, reduced to nothing but a pile of white bones. I looked at them, wondering how their stomachs could possibly hold all that, when the female dog suddenly let out a pained whimper.
Had she overeaten?
I hurried toward her, but the male dog growled low in his throat, blocking my path. I wanted to tell him that this was no time for posturing, but the female dog just paced restlessly before whimpering again.
What was going on? Then it clicked.
"Wait... is she going into labor?"
Right now? Out here in the open? I couldn't just let her give birth on the bare ground in the middle of the forest. I needed to find her a proper place. My sleeping quarters inside the tree trunk were already cramped and full of meat.
That left only one option.
I guided the two dogs toward the Storehouse I had just finished. It was certainly better than being exposed to the elements. The female dog seemed to agree; she followed me inside without a fuss and began pacing in the corner. The male dog watched her, looking incredibly anxious.
Labor... birth...
It was no use. I didn't have a shred of medical or veterinary knowledge.
For now, the sun was setting. Once night fell, the temperature would drop. I decided to start a fire inside the Storehouse. I dug a shallow pit near the center of the room to create a makeshift Sunken Hearth and lined it with ash. I stacked some wood and lit it. The smoke drifted out through the ventilation window I’d cut near the roof. Since there wasn't a door yet, I didn't have to worry about the room becoming a smokehouse.
Next, I needed water. I carved a large, makeshift bucket out of a block of wood and hauled water from the well. The female dog gulped it down greedily, so I knew I’d made the right call.
Thinking ahead... if she gave birth here, the pups would land right on the dirt. Was a dirt floor really okay? I didn't have any blankets or anything soft. If I had known this was coming, I would have kept the rabbit or boar hides. I remembered seeing a nature program where horses gave birth on a bed of straw, but I didn't have anything like that.
I could have gone into the woods to gather dry grass, but it was already dark. While the tool allowed me to till indefinitely, trying to forage for grass in a dark, dangerous forest was a different story.
As I was racking my brain for a solution, I noticed the female dog scratching at the ground, trying to dig.
Right.
I shifted the Universal Farming Tool into a Scoop. I’d heard that the difference between a shovel and a scoop was whether or not it had a lip to put your foot on, but in my mind, a Scoop was a one-handed tool and a shovel was for two hands. It didn't really matter.
I used the Scoop to dig into a corner of the Storehouse. Since I had already tilled this entire area with the Hoe earlier, the soil was already loose. By working it over with the Scoop, I made it even softer. I fluffed up about a tatami mat’s worth of space in the corner.
The female dog seemed to understand my intent. she moved to the softened patch, dug out a shallow depression, and used her body and paws to pack the edges down into a proper nesting area.
All that was left was to wait. However, I realized that having a stranger she’d just met staring at her would probably just add unnecessary stress. I left the rest to the male dog and stepped out of the Storehouse.
The sun had vanished completely. Between the flickering campfire by my bed and the light bleeding out of the Storehouse, the surrounding forest felt oppressively dark. I could only pray that the birth went safely.
I wasn't in the mood to sleep, so I sat by my campfire and used the light to carve some small wooden utensils. On a side note, the sight of the boar's bones looked a bit eerie in the moonlight, so I used the Hoe to till them deep into the soil to serve as fertilizer.