The Wild
As the shallow night arrived, the tranquility shattered. Every household hurried to the Fire Spring to collect sunstones.
Qin Ming stood ready to depart, fully armed with a hunting fork, dagger, bow, and arrows.
He had eaten the flatbread delivered by Lu Ze but kept his expedition a secret, fearing dissuasion.
Qin Ming had no intention of risking his life. Instead, he aimed for a relatively safe zone to test his luck.
After much deliberation, he recalled a fleeting shadow he'd glimpsed in the autumn woods. Based on the creature's habits, it likely dwelled nearby.
"I hope it's still there and can bring me a surprise."
Outside, silence settled as villagers ceased their sunstone-gathering.
Qin Ming set off. Along the way, he encountered two villagers. He greeted them with a smile and quickly moved on before they could react.
He passed the Fire Spring and entered a world of darkness.
The wilderness was treacherous. Qin Ming trudged through snowdrifts, his body submerged up to the chest, leaving only his upper torso visible.
The bitter cold turned his breath into frost, clinging to his brows and hair.
Even during the shallow night, the world remained dim, obscuring distant views.
Gripping his hunting fork, Qin Ming pressed onward, each step a struggle.
After trudging nearly two kilometers, he neared his destination.
Ahead loomed a dense forest, its skeletal trees cloaked in snow.
Qin Ming targeted the forest's edge, avoiding the depths.
He waded into the woods, where most trees stood bare, their branches heavy with ice.
Pausing, he reconstructed the creature's movements from memory.
He recalled tree cavities in the area—potential nests.
"It's larger than its kin, likely mutated. If I find its main den, the rewards could be substantial."
Resuming his trek, Qin Ming navigated the ink-black forest. Occasional eerie birdcalls heightened the gloom.
Suddenly, he froze. A faint rot stung his nostrils.
He raised his hunting fork, scanning the shadows. A rustle—
Qin Ming thrust upward!
A shadow dangled from a high branch—a pale, wrinkled human face attached to a winged body. It swooped, talons aimed at his skull.
Qin Ming's reflexes saved him. The creature veered, shrieking, and vanished into the night.
A human-faced vulture—a carrion-eater with a wingspan like an eagle's. Normally docile toward living humans, hunger had driven it to attack.
Qin Ming waited, wary. When it didn't return, he pressed forward.
"This is the place."
Pine, broadleaf, and birch marked the area. Qin Ming located the tree cavity—its edges suspiciously clean.
No frost from breath—no occupant. Disappointed, he combed the vicinity.
Then—tracks!
A sudden geyser of light erupted ahead, illuminating the forest. Earthlight—a rare phenomenon from subterranean fires.
Qin Ming seized the moment to scout. The light faded, but he'd spotted another cavity rimmed with ice.
Silent as the wind, he climbed the trunk. A strike of his dagger split the cavity open—
A thrashing creature retreated. Qin Ming thrust a leather-clad hand inside.
He hauled out a crimson squirrel—twice the normal size, fur glowing like molten silk. Its winter hoard: walnuts, chestnuts, dates.
Qin Ming grinned, filling his sack. The squirrel shrieked, then fell limp—apparently dead from rage.
"Meat soup for Wen Rui," he mused, securing his prize.
Back in Twin Trees Village, rumors swirled. Some claimed Qin Ming hunted bears. Lu Ze frowned, worried.
...
Qin Ming climbed a foothill, eyeing the distant mountains. Their peaks shimmered faintly through mist—a realm of mystery and peril beyond his reach.