Behind a rock outside the village stockade wall.
The skinny boy with a straight saber on his back looked up at the stockade wall. Perhaps because the village was remote and far from the battlefield, or perhaps because neither side in the war had any interest in the shabby little village, the flimsy stockade wall remained intact.
He pulled his head back and leaned against the rock, recalling the Strange Girl's words.
When they had traded goods, several things the girl said had been hard for him to accept. Once more, he recalled her ethereal voice warning him.
"People can share hardships, yet struggle to share wealth. You need only offer your neighbors a meager benefit—never too much. The human heart is but an inch wide, and storms rise day and night. Sigh..."
He had never gone to school and did not understand the girl's strange words, but he knew he could not take out too much wealth.
Bringing back a little food and a few battered weapons would make him a hero of the village.
If he brought out too much, they might very well turn against him. He clearly remembered the villagers fighting viciously over prey. He wanted to grow stronger; if the other villagers saw those cultivators' treasures, he might not live past tonight.
He carefully hid several storage bags against his body.
Perhaps the straight saber looked down on storage bags—it simply would not fit inside one—so he could only carry it on his back.
Dragging several battered weapons he had picked up with a grass rope and carrying a beast over his shoulder, he walked toward the village gate and waved in greeting.
The villagers atop the stockade wall cried out in surprise, hurriedly opened the gate, and welcomed the skinny boy back inside.
For