Chapter 685 - v4c65 The Hunter Siblings(1) (1/2)

When you chew on meat jerky that’s been stored for months after they’ve been dehydrated, it has the consistency of wood. It tasted salty and dry. But to Yaruta, it was a rare delicacy in the forest. In the Anserra Forest, the further north you went, the colder it became. In the forest at the northernmost edge of the forest known as “Fogweaving Woodland”, you occasionally got snow at night. Even during the daytime, the frost could turn itself into a thin layer of fog, weaving among the trees.

Here, animals in the forest became few and far between. Except for the occasional thick-furred rodents, even experienced hunters had a hard time replenis.h.i.+ng their food supply in the forest.

Yaruta cut a small piece of the meat jerky and put it in the bubbling pot. The soup in the black iron pot was made up of wild plants. The steam rose up as if to melt the snow on the branches.

The old n.o.blemen certainly wouldn’t eat something like this, but this was a regular meal for hunters.

“We’re about to run out of rations…” In his mind, the young man turned over the furry pouch and only found some stale bread crumbs. He let out a small sigh in his heart, though he had expected this. They were already running out of food before they headed into the mountains this time — his older sister said that after this expedition, they would have saved enough money to travel to Karsuk and join their relatives there. He sniffed at the delicious smells wafting out from the pot while his stomach grumbled.

He looked up at the row of neat and beautiful tents pitched on the other side of the landing. The sounds of argument kept coming from over there. He knew that the hunters from the town and the n.o.blemen were having a difference in opinions, mainly because the hunters didn’t want to cross the river to the north and keep going.

Yaruta had s.h.i.+vered when he thought about the river to the north.

Across the Fogweaving Woodland, the Nugan River was the border to the Falling Needle Hills to the north. This river was connected to Lake Vallendaren and downstream to Lantonilan’s Azure Lake. Ice floated on top of the surface of the river year round, but there were even more terrifying rumors. When night falls, “things” would come out in the Frost Stained Forest Labyrinth and anyone who saw them never came back from the forest.

Legends like these have been pa.s.sed down from generation to generation. Gradually, the region north of the Nugan River became known as the forbidden zone.

Even if Yaruta had heard these stories, such as “Treetop People” or “Knight Who Lost his Mind”, a million times, he couldn’t help but s.h.i.+ver in fear when he recollected the stories older hunters told around the campfires.

He glanced back in the direction of the hills. Every night for the last couple of nights, he had seen something blue, like a spirit, in the forest. He only told his sister but his sister said he had just been seeing things.

“Even if they’re ‘things that wander at night’, they didn’t look like what you said. You must have mistaken the Crystal Stag for something else. If that’s the case, maybe we’ll have good luck.” That’s what she had said.

But he knew that after that night, the number of hunters from the town standing guard at night doubled. The closer they got to the north, the suppressed tension in the air became more obvious. Conversation between people dwindled.

But Yaruta didn’t understand why his sister insisted on telling everything to the townspeople, even though it was clear the townspeople didn’t like them. Even if the motto of the hunters was ‘united we stand’, it shouldn’t be a one-sided unity.

He never liked the people from the town and especially didn’t like their looks of disgust.

Suddenly, he heard the sound of horse hoofs coming from outside the camp. Only the n.o.blemen had horses — he looked up and saw a few strong and burly knights come into their campground along with a team of the n.o.blemen’s private militia.

What’s happening? Are they done talking already?

With these suspicions, Yaruta’s gaze traveled through the white steam rising from the iron pot. In the fog created by the stea, he saw a hunter walk towards the knight as if to ask them something. But one of the n.o.ble’s private militia came up and pushed the hunter to the ground.

Yaruta hurriedly stood up.

The n.o.blemen’s militia spread out on both sides and surrounded the campground. He didn’t know what was going on. He turned around and saw soldiers with longbows walking out of the forest. He saw the n.o.bles’ armored longbowmen, with their face completely covered, draw their bow and arrow in unison.

An instinct for danger rose from his heart.

A hunter stumbled out from behind the campground, his face ashen. Yaruta recognized him; he had two daughters. Once, his daughters had tossed sand at his face — for the rest of his life, he’ll remember the look of disdain the guy gave him that time. But the guy’s expression then wasn’t as twisted as it was now.

“Those d.a.m.ned n.o.bles are going back on their word!” The hunter shouted hoa.r.s.ely, “Run –”

A sharp whistling sound came from the forest. As a hunter, Yaruta knew this drawn-out sound very well. The arrows pierced through the air and shot through the hunter’s throat.

His voice stopped abruptly. The sharp tip of the arrow broke through skin and flesh until it stuck out from under his chin. Blood spilled out in a line. The short feathered fletchings stayed on the other side of the guy’s neck, still quivering.

The man looked at him, opening and closing his mouth. His expression was a mixture of fear and disbelief. He struggled to claw at his throat with his hands, but his hands only made it past his chest before he toppled down onto the ground.

Yaruta swallowed his own spit.

He had seen hunters shoot an arrow straight through their prey’s neck. He had even done so himself. But when the targets of humans became humans, he realized how horrifying such a scene could be.

A person who had just been jumping around before turned into a cold body in just a second.