They had thought this band of enemy soldiers would leave after eating, but who knew they would stay instead.
With fish and meat to eat, their mouths dripped with grease. The fragrance of charred chicken drifted on the wind into the villagers' noses, making them both hungry and furious. In secret, they cursed them to choke to death early. More than thirty mouths stuffing themselves in one meal had ruined years of the village's efforts.
The leading strongman held his hawk.
He tore apart raw chicken to feed it, his heart aching terribly at the sight of its injuries. He used the chickens the villagers treasured to feed the hawk he treasured.
After eating and drinking their fill, the idle men began wandering around the village, peeking into this house and poking around that one.
Poor households naturally had no valuable gold or silver to be found, only old people everywhere.
The enemy soldiers cursed as they each found somewhere to stay. Whoever had the best house lost it to them. They went in groups of two or three, entered the inner rooms, lay down, and slept as casually as if they were in their own homes.
The Fisher Girl saw several men reach the entrance to her family's courtyard. Perhaps they disliked the bad luck of a house that had just held a funeral, for they turned a corner and went to someone else's home.
Those who risked their lives on the battlefield liked to seek good fortune. The sight of funeral paper money was simply too upsetting.
The two horses were handed over to the villagers to care for, while the two strongmen pointed at the lake and discussed something.
They took out a leather-sealed tube three feet long. After opening it, they pulled out a rolled map