The bloodstain on his palm was still seeping. Chen Wuya lowered his head for a glance, then lightly pressed the edge of the wound with his fingertips, smearing the beads of blood away. He neither bandaged it nor spoke. He merely slowly withdrew his left hand into his sleeve and continued onward, holding the two children's hands.
The mountain path was narrower than before, with shrubs crossing on either side and branches hanging low. Chen Yao's steps slowed, as did her breathing, one hand clenched around her father's robe hem the whole time. Chen Xuan walked on the other side, his eyes fixed on the ground as though searching for something.
"Father." He suddenly stopped. "There are marks here."
Chen Wuya crouched down and followed the direction of his son's finger. The soil was soft, and a claw mark slashed across it at an angle—deep at the front, shallow at the back. The spacing between the five claws was exceptionally wide, and a long, thin scrape trailed along the inner side, as if something had brushed against the ground while drawing back its strength.
"Where do you think it went?" Chen Wuya asked.
Chen Xuan frowned. "Forward... but that's not right. There are no continuing tracks after this, like—it jumped over."
"How far?"
"At least one zhang."
Chen Wuya nodded without another word. Rising to his feet, he swept his gaze over the surrounding tree trunks. Six chi above the ground were several horizontal scrape marks, fresh bark peeled back in curls. He reached out to touch them, and his fingertips came away faintly damp, as though with residue left behind by some dried mucus.
"Not an ordinary beast," he said. "It can climb trees, and it doesn't climb with its limbs."
Chen Yao suddenly sniffed, her little face scrunching