Chapter 3: Cabin, Stone House, and Showdowns

But first, shelter was a priority. No way was I freezing out here.

I explained my reasoning—food was important, but shelter was life or death in the Arctic. I outlined my plan for the day.

I decided to spend two hours a day gathering edible plants, and the rest building a shelter.

I shared my schedule, inviting viewers to follow along. The chat cheered me on.

After a simple breakfast of rabbit soup, I felt re-energized. Ready to get to work.

I slurped the last of the broth, wiped my mouth, and stretched. Ready for anything.

The blue sky and white clouds lifted my spirits, and the hovering cameras even seemed cute. Who knew?

I waved at the nearest drone, feeling a little silly. The world felt wide open, full of promise.

“Hey everyone, today my main goal is to find a good spot to build a shelter.”

I spoke directly to the camera, laying out my priorities. The chat responded with ideas and encouragement.

Sure, as Alpha I could sleep outside, but I wanted something better this time.

I explained the importance of adapting to your environment, choosing the right place for comfort and safety.

After surveying the area, I chose a rock wall facing the sun and sheltered from the wind. In front was open space, left was the river, right was a forest. Perfect.

I mapped it out on the ground, showing viewers how to read the land. I talked about wind patterns, sunlight, and access to resources.

My main task was to carve into the rock face and make a cave. This was going to be epic.

I explained my plan, outlining the benefits of a stone shelter—warmth, protection, and durability.

First, I moved all my gear and the leftover caribou there.

I showed off my packing skills, explaining how to keep meat safe from animals and rot.

I pulled out my $100,000 custom axe and got to work. Worth every penny.

I gave the camera a close-up of the axe, explaining its features. The chat oohed and aahed.

I didn’t start on the rock wall right away. Instead, I chopped sturdy logs and built a wooden cabin. Gotta have a backup.

I narrated each step, showing how to select and cut logs, how to notch them for stability. It was a crash course in frontier carpentry.

It went up fast—in two days, I’d built a 270-square-foot cabin. Not bad for a nerdy librarian, huh?

I gave a virtual tour, pointing out the little touches that made it homey. The chat filled with admiration and disbelief.

I showed it off to the camera, feeling a little embarrassed. Not too shabby.

I scratched my head, admitting it wasn’t perfect. But it was sturdy, warm, and mine.

“Two days for this cabin—kind of rough. Next, I’ll spend a month carving a stone house with two bedrooms and a living room. Stay tuned.”

I flashed a confident grin, daring the doubters to keep watching. The chat exploded with excitement and skepticism.

The northern night sparkled with stars, the air crisp and fresh. I was getting the hang of my wolf blood. Felt good.

I stepped outside, breathing in the cold, feeling the old instincts settle into something steady and strong. I howled softly at the moon, just for myself.

The night passed quietly. Just me and the wild.

I slept deeply, waking only once to stoke the fire. The world outside was silent, peaceful.

But after my last comment, the chat exploded. Fans and skeptics alike were stunned, and some haters started trash-talking again. Of course.

Screenshots of my cabin spread like wildfire. People argued about whether I could really pull off a stone house. The drama was half the fun.

“If Huntress Lane can build such a sturdy cabin in two days, I believe she can carve out a stone house in a month.”

“Wow, I thought she’d just live in that cabin, but she’s going all out?”

“Going all out? More like a liar. I’ll check back in a month.”

“Streamer’s getting cocky—she should learn from Marcus and Beckett, who are building half-buried cabins and stockpiling food.”

#HarperStoneHouse

Memes, reaction videos, bets. Even my old college friends were texting my parents, asking if I was really that handy.

One troll even posted, swearing to eat a shoe on stream if I really built a two-bedroom, one-living-room stone house in a month.

I laughed so hard I nearly dropped my axe. I made a mental note to check back on that guy.

Before starting, I checked my supplies—I still had about 120 pounds of caribou meat, enough energy for a month. No worries there.

I showed the camera my stash, explaining how to preserve meat in the cold. The chat buzzed with tips and questions.

Every day, I spent two hours gathering edible plants and spices—essentials for a happy life. Gotta keep things tasty.

I explained how to identify safe roots and berries, how to dry and store them. I made a game of it, inviting viewers to guess what I’d find next.

A month later.

The days blurred together—work, eat, sleep, repeat. I kept the camera rolling, sharing every triumph and setback.

Looking at my completed stone house, I was thrilled. With the camera following me, I gave everyone a tour. Home sweet home.

I held the door open like a proud realtor, grinning from ear to ear. "Welcome to Harper’s Home," I announced.

“I carved an arched entrance and installed a woven wooden door—light, convenient, and practical. When winter hits, I’ll switch to an ice door for the look.”

I ran my hand over the smooth arch, explaining how I’d reinforced it. The chat filled with heart emojis.

Step inside and you’re in a 540-square-foot living room. There’s stone furniture I made—tables, chairs, a rack for pelts, and a striking tiered stone shelf. The first level holds stone and wooden bowls, spoons, spatulas, and other kitchenware.

I showed off my handiwork, pointing out the little details. The shelf was my pride and joy—each piece carefully carved and sanded.

The second level is for dried, ground spices—savory blends and some sweet plant roots. Perfect for winter stews.

I opened jars, letting the camera linger on the colorful powders. I explained how to use each one, promising more cooking streams soon.

The third level will hold cured meats and nuts. Can’t wait to fill it up.

I pointed to the empty spaces, outlining my plans for the coming weeks. The chat buzzed with recipe suggestions.

Near the bedroom is my cooking and heating area, with a vented stone stove. When lit, it heats the living room, lets me cook in my iron pot, and warms my bed.

I demonstrated how to light the stove, explaining the importance of proper ventilation. The warmth was a lifesaver in the cold nights.

Through the right-hand door is a simple 215-square-foot bedroom. A smooth stone bed takes up most of the space, covered with a layer of soft grass and the caribou hide, topped with my sleeping bag.

I flopped onto the bed, showing how comfortable it was. I joked about starting a new trend in rustic chic.

The bedroom is simply decorated, with a stone shelf holding a pine-oil lamp, keeping the room bright. For daylight, I carved a small window—open for air by day, covered and stuffed with rabbit fur by night. In winter, I’ll make an ice window for warmth and light.

I held up the lamp, explaining how to make pine oil. The window let in a shaft of sunlight, making the room feel cozy.

The left room is about 430 square feet and unheated. Near the living room is a wooden rack full of nuts, spices, edible plants, and cranberries. In the middle is a big stone slab for storing meat. Closest to the river, I dug a large trough to store water.

I ran my hand over the stone slab, talking about food safety and winter storage. The trough was lined with ice, perfect for keeping things fresh.

In front of the stone house are three small cabins—one for a bathroom, the other two for whatever I need next. The area is fenced in, and I’ve started stacking more wood nearby.

I explained my plans for the extra cabins—maybe a smokehouse, maybe a workshop. The fence kept out most animals, though the occasional fox still snuck in.

I’m very satisfied with this month’s work—time to celebrate. Feels good.

I did a little victory dance for the camera, then sat down to a feast of roasted meat and wild berries. The chat cheered me on.

After finishing the last of the caribou meat, I rested, ready to hunt and stock up on meat and firewood for winter.

I stretched out on my stone bed, feeling the deep ache of a job well done. Tomorrow, the hunt would begin anew.

My month’s efforts had won over most viewers—my stream now had the biggest following, and the guy who swore he’d eat a shoe had already deleted his account.

I laughed when I heard—maybe next time, he’d bet on the right horse. My fanbase was growing by the day.

Now, most comments were friendly. That felt good.

People sent virtual gifts, fan art, even poems. I read some out loud, blushing at the praise.

“Lucky to witness a month of miracles—thanks, Huntress Lane.”

“Don’t thank her yet—she said she’s going hunting tomorrow.”

“Seeing all those spices, I can’t wait to see what she’ll cook next.”

“I’m ordering DoorDash to watch her stream tomorrow.”

“Wait, aren’t you worried she won’t catch anything? Only 10 contestants left, and game’s getting scarce—plus there are bears and wolves out for food.”

“Just wait to get called out.”