Finally back at the camp, Mack breathed a sigh of relief as he stretched out on his cot. He could hear the bustle of activity around the camp. The sounds of working, conversing, even some laughter -people going about the considerable work of creating a new life for themselves.
They had hiked far into the night stopping only to rest briefly, relieve themselves and eat some fruit for energy; they hadn’t even bothered with a fire. Everyone was anxious to get back- to share their experiences, their finds and discuss how what they now knew about the island would impact their future.
As usual, Mack had not retreated to his hut for rest as much as for solitude to think, meditate, pray and plan. He mentally went over the list of supplies they had, including what they had brought back, estimating what the several gardens might yield, considering when, where and who the next hunting party should be-how much ammunition could be spared, what traps they had, what materials they had to build more. Life had become very precious and very simple – each day was full of providing just for that day.
(tmb)