The Building Prt 2

When I get up there, I manage to find a flat enough spot that with one of my pelts rolled out I snuggle into a dip between two parallel boughs and can properly lay down, without having to anchor myself to anything. I hang my backpack on a broken stump on the trunk and lay out on top of my makeshift bed, stretching and wriggling to see how comfy I can get, satisfied that this isn’t too bad as long as it doesn’t get windy or rain tonight. I don’t want to unroll pelts that could slide off if I roll in my sleep and draw attention to lurking wildlife. I won’t have a fire to keep some of the natural creatures at bay up here, so I have to make do with cold meat, a bumpy bed, and the rustling and swaying of the trees to lull me into slumber. Not that I think it’ll be an issue, as now I’m up here, my eyes are heavy and my brain cloudy with fatigue. It’s been a long day.

I sit and watch the building through the foliage for a while, sat at my safe