The Sixty-Fifth Scene: The Hunter Siblings I

After being dried and stored for several months, the jerky was as tough as dry sticks, and both salty and astringent. But to Yalta, it was still a rare delicacy in the forest. The farther north one went in Anlase Forest, the colder the climate became. In the woods near the northern end of the forest, which the older hunters called the Mist-weaving Woodlands, it occasionally snowed at night. Even during the day, frost could weave a thin mist between the trees.

Here, the animals in the forest had also become exceedingly scarce. Aside from occasionally encountering a few thick-furred rodents, even veteran hunters found it difficult to replenish their food in the forest.

Yalta cut off a small piece of jerky and dropped it into the boiling pot. The dark iron pot was filled with wild vegetables floating in the broth. Steam billowed upward, as though it might melt the snow piled on the branches.

Naturally, the noble lords would never eat such food, but to hunters, it was an everyday meal.

"There isn't much dried food left either..." The boy lifted the hide and found only a few blackened bread crumbs beneath it. He sighed inwardly, though he had expected this. Before they had entered the mountains this time, his family had already been on the verge of starvation. His sister had said that after this expedition, they would have enough money to go to Karasu and seek refuge with their relatives there. He greedily sniffed the aroma rising from the pot, and his stomach rumbled.

He raised his head and looked at the neat, beautiful tents on the other side of the woodland. Voices of dispute continued to come from the camp. He knew that the hunters from the town had fallen out with the noble lords.