At dawn, Nord woke from a wonderful sleep feeling revitalized. More than half a month of travel and exhaustion had been washed away. Fully equipped, he set out once more.
Nord made his way to the Wild Boar Cave outpost with practiced ease. A month ago, he would have been nervous entering the mountains alone, afraid that some beast might suddenly leap from the grass and devour him. Now, that was no longer the case. More than half a month of living in the wilderness had at least made him quite capable in the outer forests.
Since he had already spoken with Old Mor yesterday, Ryman and the others were prepared by the time Nord arrived at the Wild Boar Cave outpost. The hunters had also been rotated, while key figures like Ryman tirelessly went out to scout the route each time.
This was not their first time scouting a path, so Nord did not say much. Seeing that everyone was ready, he immediately set off.
After traveling back and forth several times, traces of a path had gradually appeared in the forest. Each time, Nord had the hunters clear away the shrubs and weeds around them as they traveled. It served as a marker to prevent them from getting lost in the forest, and it would also make future trips into the mountains easier.
There had never been paths in the world; when enough people walked them, they became paths. Looking at the trail gradually taking shape beneath his feet, Nord felt somewhat moved. Though they had failed to find Distant Mountain Stronghold after several expeditions, it did not mean they had gained nothing. For instance, there was the crude hide map in Nord's hand and the path gradually forming beneath their feet. These were all gains from entering the mountains.
Along the way, Nord continued observing the surrounding terrain, looking for places suitable for future outposts. After all, regardless of when they found Distant Mountain Stronghold, establishing outposts along the route was already imperative.
It took only a little over a day for them to reach the place where they had encountered the Black Mountain Cat last time. As the trail took shape and everyone grew more familiar with this forest, the same journey took less time with each trip. By Nord's estimate, once they had time to properly repair the path, it would take only a day to travel from Wild Boar Cave to this place. In other words, they could leave the Wild Boar Cave outpost in the morning and arrive here before nightfall.
That meant this place could serve as an outpost. While everyone was setting up camp, Nord took a thorough look around the area.
Their overnight campsites were always carefully chosen. This place was relatively flat for a mountain forest, and the trees around it were sparse, giving it an excellent field of view. It truly was the best choice for an outpost. Though it could not compare to the natural advantages of Wild Boar Cave, it was rare among the surrounding forest.
After Nord finished inspecting the area and was about to return, he suddenly noticed movement in the grass not far ahead. His heart tightened. His right hand gripped the longsword at his waist, his eyes fixed firmly on the patch of grass.
At a time like this, he had to stay calm. He could not panic, shout, or turn and run. Any excessive reaction might provoke the beast in the grass and force it to attack.
He needed to maintain a defensive stance and slowly retreat step by step. So long as he did not lower his guard, the beasts of the forest generally would not fight to the death. This was a rule of survival in the wilderness that Ryman and Old Mor had taught Nord. Of course, part of it was also something Nord had learned from watching animal documentaries in his previous life.
Nord slowly backed away. Once he had retreated far enough, he turned and headed briskly toward the camp. He also reflected on himself. He truly had become somewhat overconfident lately. Relying on his experience surviving in the forest and his steadily increasing strength, he had indeed grown far bolder than before.
Nord would never have dared wander around the forest alone in the past. Perhaps it was simply that skill gave rise to courage. Moreover, Ryman and the others had gradually become accustomed to it, because they acknowledged Nord's strength. Apart from Ryman, no one could defeat Nord in a one-on-one spar.
After returning to camp, Nord told Ryman what had happened. Once Ryman heard it, he called over Old Mor and Harry. Led by Nord, they came to the patch of grass from before. One could never be too careful in the forest. They had brought Old Mor along so he could inspect the traces left in the grass and determine what sort of beast it was. An unknown beast prowling around the camp posed a serious threat to everyone's safety.
Old Mor stood in place with his bow drawn, ready to strike. Ryman pulled out his longsword and slowly approached the grass. As he drew closer, there was no reaction from within. It seemed the beast from before was already gone. Ryman slowly parted the grass with his longsword. When he saw what was inside, he could not help glancing at Nord, an inscrutable look in his eyes.
Nord was somewhat baffled. What did Ryman's look mean? Seeing Ryman's actions, Old Mor also understood that there was no danger. He lowered his Hunting Bow and walked over to Ryman with Nord.
Ryman sheathed his longsword, then stepped into the grass and bent down to gather the beast inside into his arms. When Nord stepped closer and saw it, an awkward expression appeared on his face.
In Ryman's arms was a Black Mountain Cat barely over a month old. It appeared not to have eaten for a long time. Its body was extremely thin, and it looked weak and listless.
I was just playing a game of wits with this little fellow? For a moment, Nord felt that the way Ryman and the other two looked at him was rather strange. Seeing that Nord said nothing, Ryman could not help asking,
"Lord Nord, what do you intend to do with it?"
"Give it to me."
Nord reached out and took the Little Mountain Cat into his arms, carefully examining the kitten. It was so hungry that it was barely conscious, its body trembling unconsciously. Its originally sleek, glossy black fur had become dull and lifeless. It seemed it had not eaten for several days.
Seeing that Nord seemed to intend to take in the Little Mountain Cat, Ryman looked somewhat hesitant. He opened his mouth, but in the end said nothing. Ryman did not want Nord to keep a Black Mountain Cat. After all, Black Mountain Cats were fierce beasts of the forest. What if its wild nature suddenly emerged one day and it injured Lord Nord? But seeing Nord's interest, Ryman found it difficult to speak up.
Old Mor and Harry were also somewhat puzzled by the way they looked at Nord. After all, Black Mountain Cats had a fearsome reputation in Distant Mountain Stronghold, enough to make children stop crying. Having grown up hearing terrifying legends about Black Mountain Cats, they immediately felt a greater measure of awe toward Nord when they saw him planning to raise one.
In truth, Nord had not thought that much about it. Seeing the Little Mountain Cat in such a miserable state, he did feel some sympathy. Then, remembering that the adult Black Mountain Cat from before might have been this little fellow's mother, Nord felt even more guilty.
Nord felt no sympathy whatsoever for the dead adult Black Mountain Cat. He would never show mercy to an enemy who had attacked him. But none of that had anything to do with this Little Mountain Cat. Meeting was fate, and since Nord had encountered it, he would lend it a hand. As for what happened later, he would deal with it when the time came.
Gently supporting the Little Mountain Cat in his arms, Nord returned to camp.
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