The old wolf stared at the scrivener with straight eyes, the gray-black fur was particularly conspicuous in the thick green bushes, and the shiny fur was shiny, revealing a bloodthirsty murderous aura. Pen? Interesting? Pavilion wWw. ｂiquge。 info It didn't move, and its instincts told it that the guy in front of it was difficult to deal with.

Rena had safely returned to the tree hole, and the scrivener was at ease and began to retreat unhurriedly. The old wolf became agitated and hissed and growled. The rustling of the bushes continued, and the wolves were gathering.

The scrivener kept steadily retreating, still more than ten meters away from the tree hole, as long as he was fast enough, he could jump back in three or four seconds. Rena watched anxiously from the edge of the tree hollow, although there were guns, they were almost ineffective against so many wolves.

Whoosh, a wolf moved first, drawing an arc in the air. Wow, the body flying in the air let out a long roar. Whoosh, the other wolf also moved, and let out the same high-pitched howl. Puff ...... More wolves leapt from the surface of the water, fall into the water, swinging their bodies and swimming towards the opposite shore.

The scrivener quickly retreated, he was a hunter and had never faced such a large pack of wolves. Fortunately, the wolf pack was not targeting him, but the dead fish on the shore. It was the fruit of half a day's labor in the scrivener, and after the fishing fork caught the fish, all the fish were thrown on the shore, and now it has become a delicacy for the wolves.

The scrivener finally retreated into the tree hole, blocked the tree hole with stones, and looked out through the gap. Rena was the same, huddled together with the scrivener and looked out, one hand unconsciously resting on the scrivener's shoulder. There can be dozens of dead fish on the shore, but there are still too few for the wolves, and in less than a few minutes, a dozen wolves have divided up the prey. Some wolves kept growling in protest against other members snatching their food.

Maybe it's the smell of fish that attracts the wolves. The scrivener secretly complained, the fruits of the whole afternoon's labor, saving enough to cover more than ten days of rations. This is not the worst thing, once the wolves stay here, their future activities will be greatly restricted. The fish is just a prelude, and the wolves will eventually take him and Rena as prey.

The wolves had no intention of leaving, some lay on the shore and snoozed, some frolicked, and some pounced in the shallow water trying to catch fish. The scrivener turned his back helplessly, staring at the four walls of the tree hole in a daze. In any case, it was unthinkable that the wolves would become his worst enemies.

Rena was optimistic, satisfied with the current situation, and didn't take the wolves seriously. He pulled the corner of the bookcase and told him it was time to learn English. Look at Rena in the scrivener, her long blonde hair tied back into sideburns, loose clothes draped over her shoulders, dressed like a housewife. This is a woman who is easy to satisfy.

It's about learning English, but it's actually learning from each other, and it's become a compulsory course these days. The results are still there, and simple communication is becoming less and less of a problem. In addition to learning English, the second subject is to practice dismantling and loading and machete, and through unremitting efforts, the speed of dismantling and loading has reached the extreme, and even Rena, a well-informed second lieutenant in the British Army, is dumbfounded. The scimitar has also made great progress, and the routine has become simple and complex.

In the boring closed life, guns and knives have become the best way to pass the time.

Rena took the fish test and called the scrivener to eat. The scrivener gave Rena the stick that pierced the fish, and followed the example of the indigenous butcher, with the scimitar on her wrist and the scimitar to cut the fish fillet. It used to be just an empty play, but now it's going to be practical. Rena was a little nervous, for fear that the scrivener would play with the scimitar in her hand. The blade is sharp, and even the slightest bit of it is not a joke to sweep it in your hand.

The scrivener carefully compared a few times, felt okay, and began to rotate the scimitar to cut the fish fillet. The blade of the knife bounced off the flesh of the fish and only made a single cut, which was far from being cut off. He adjusted the angle and tried again, and Rena's blue eyes widened, and she was afraid that something would go wrong.

The blade spun and sliced at the fish again, this time barely cutting a few slices, most of which still couldn't be cut. The scrivener frowned, the fish meat will not be harder than the venison, since the aborigines can cut the venison, there is no reason why they can't cut the fish meat! He was not reconciled, and kept changing the angle of the blade, but the effect was not obvious.

After going back and forth, I found out the reason, not because the angle was wrong, but because the strength was not enough. Slicing meat requires enough strength to complete. Although he has mastered the routine of playing with knives, his strength is still far behind. This is not something that can be practiced overnight, if the strength is too great, the speed of the scimitar will inevitably increase, the difficulty of control will increase exponentially, and if you don't get it right, you will hurt your hands. The only way to do this is to practice diligently and achieve the perfect unity of strength and speed.

The scrivener tilted his head and meditated, thinking about how to unify the strength and speed, and finally got some inspiration, so he played with the scimitar and tried again. I looked down and saw that the fish was gone. Rena's blue eyes glared at him, what a fish, if you cut it indiscriminately, only bones will remain!

The scrivener smiled bitterly, but no, a big fish was cut into pieces. He put away his knife and ate.

The night was very hot, very damp, it had just rained, and the air humidity was particularly high. The scrivener took off all the clothes, but I still couldn't stand it, the sweat droplets were bubbling out, and every pore was soaked in sweat. I really want to take a bath in the river, but unfortunately I can't. Although the wolves are gone, no one can guarantee that they are really gone.

Rena was wearing only a coat, her slender thighs stretched out, and she was drenched in sweat.

In the second half of the night, I felt a little cool, and I was barely able to sleep.

The scrivener wiped the spear over and over again, and the gun was the most effective against the wolves. Rena was already asleep, exhaling like an orchid.

Rushing...... There was the sound of water outside. The scrivener was alert, the sound was coming from the direction of the bend, what was in the water? Big fish, or ......

The sound of rushing water continued, and the scrivener groaned, could there be something in the shower? Is it not afraid of wolves? He thought of the behemoth of that night, and that there was indeed a wolf pack on this isolated island.

The sound of the water continued for a long time, and the wolves suddenly appeared, their green eyes looming in the darkness. They didn't act, and they seemed to be afraid. The scrivener secretly thought, could it be that the things in the water are even afraid of the wolves? What kind of existence would that be. He remembered the monster that night.

Rena woke up and reached out to wrap her arms around the waist of the scrivener from behind, and the latter felt a damp body. Rena's sleep wasn't steady, it was too hot for even throwing away the only coat she had. She motioned for him to sleep, and she was on night. The scrivener didn't say anything, and turned around and lay on the ground. He's been deliberately avoiding her, and it's best not to be too crazy in this place in Savage Mountain. Again, the same sentence: a woman is pregnant here and dies. They are not indigenous, and indigenous women can survive giving birth to children, which is the accumulation of thousands of years of life, and they absolutely cannot live in a civilized society.

The difficult night finally passed, it was still sunny, and it seemed that the continuous rain had come to an end. It was quiet early in the morning, and the scrivener washed his face by the river, ready to catch fish. Rena fills the helmet with water and puts it back in the hollow of the tree, throwing their clothes into the river to wash them.

The fish in the bay were gone overnight, and the scrivener was nowhere to be found. So many fish, say there is no salvation! Maybe it has something to do with the big guy last night, who bathed in the river and scared the fish away. The scrivener secretly scolded her grandmother that it was difficult to survive on an isolated island without a food source.

Airplanes...... A loud roar sounded overhead. Scrivener and Rena looked up at the sky at the same time, and an airplane hovered overhead. Of course, they would not consider it the aircraft of their own troops, since the beginning of the war, the air has been the domain of Japanese aircraft, and the expeditionary force has suffered a lot.

It was rare for Japanese planes to enter Savage Mountain. The scrivener was very puzzled, what was the plane doing in Savage Mountain. It won't be a war. In fact, the role of the aircraft in the Savage Mountain is very limited, because the surface vegetation is dense, it is difficult to find targets on the ground in the air, as long as there is no large puff of smoke, it is difficult to find anything on the plane. After the expeditionary force entered the Savage Mountain, it was harassed by aircraft with very, very limited. Coupled with the vast area of Savage Mountain, dozens of planes do not work. The Japanese are not fools and understand this very well, so they did not use their planes in the Savage Mountains. Besides, the Japanese army needed a large number of ships and fighters on the frontal battlefield, and it was impossible to have extra fighters to put them into Savage Mountain.

The scrivener quickly climbed a big tree, but I wanted to see what kind of reputation the Japanese plane was doing. By the time he climbed the canopy, the plane was gone, but he could still see shadows, hovering in the distance, as if searching for something.

The scrivener groaned, what are the Japanese looking for in Savage Mountain, a place where birds don't poop? The roar gradually faded away, and when I looked around, the water was vast and boundless. Hills after hills have become islands and havens for animals. More large trees are soaked in water, the canopy is exposed to the water, and there is water below and trees above, and the landscape is peculiar.

The scrivener came down from the tree, and Raina was worrying underneath, there were no fish, the mushrooms had been scavenged by various animals, and breakfast was a problem. In the end, only a portion of the stockpiled dried fish can be taken out.

The sun soon climbed up, scorching the forest, steaming up, and making every corner sweltering. Wolves began to bathe in the river, and some small animals left the wolves far away to drink at the water's edge. Occasionally, fish bubbled on the surface of the water, and the heavy rain did not wash away the vitality here.

The scrivener and Rena climbed to the canopy of the big banyan tree to enjoy the shade, in the middle and upper space of the jungle, a little windy, much more comfortable than the ground. Fortunately, the canopy of the banyan tree is large enough that people do not have to work it. Rena wondered if she could build a simple house on a banyan tree.

Bang...... Another plane appeared, this time for a relatively short stay, circling for a week and then departing. The animals were frightened, some burrowed into the grass, others looked up.