Deer Hunt

The snow grew heavier as night fell, and the gale that followed was even more terrifying.

According to Alos, there had never been a year where the snow fell this violently at the start of winter. The howling of the north wind was sharper than the shriek of a cannon shell tearing through the sky. One could only wonder if Sailu's caravan had managed to reach Mirabar by now.

William sat by the fireplace in the cellar, using a dagger to cut into a sleeping bag; he intended to make a pair of boots for each of the three siblings. Previously, the trio had only possessed a single pair of tattered deerskin boots left behind by a limping old adventurer. Usually, only William, who ventured deep into the forest, was qualified to wear them, while the others ran barefoot on the ground. Over the years, those old boots had become shredded beyond repair, held together only by rags, and long before Chen Jinyang's rebirth, they had been reduced to ashes by fire.

During past winters, little Alos would collect tufts of dried grass, mix them with the wool he gathered from sheep and cattle, and form large balls to wrap around their feet, securing them with strips of old linen and hemp rope. This was a small trick he had learned from passing adventurers while working odd jobs at the tavern. After all, in the North, there were always adventurers who encountered extreme weather, and they often boasted about their experiences overcoming such hardships as a way to pass the time.

However, such simple footwear could at best fool oneself, as it was far too fragile to last, falling apart after only a few steps. As for Mishaer, who had been bedridden for years, she had never even seen a pair of small shoes for a girl.

William had not expected the winter here to be so cold; he suspected it was no different from the Siberian winters of his past life. In his view, for the two little ones to go out and play barefoot in such weather was practically suicidal. When they returned from their picnic three days ago, both children had suffered varying degrees of frostbite, especially on their feet, which were swollen and red.

The fire in the hearth burned brightly, the foot-long pine logs providing a quiet and lasting heat that turned the originally damp and cold cellar into a paradise of warmth and faint fragrance. The red and blue flames licked the black iron pot, which bubbled with rising steam. The ceiling of the cellar was several meters below the surface, and the entire structure consisted of several small storage rooms and a large basement fifteen feet in length and width. The cellar had three exits: one in the tavern's kitchen, one near the stables, and one leading directly outside the village. The latter was rarely used and usually sealed, its location so well-hidden that it would be difficult for an outsider to find. Currently, the three siblings used the exit by the stables, and this was the one William needed to guard.

The two little ones were curled up in their sleeping bags, sleeping soundly, covered by animal skins and blankets. To survive the winter successfully, many preparations were needed; the first was to build up their health, followed by stocking up on sufficient and nutritious food.

The siblings were too frail, especially Mishaer; almost everyone believed she might not survive this cold and long winter. William also felt that if he didn't find a way, it would be difficult for Mishaer to pull through. Even without the fur mats and sleeping bags he had brought back, or the hearty soups and food from the last two days, the poor little girl might not have even survived the first snowfall.

Ultimately, the frailty of Alos and Mishaer was the result of long-term malnutrition, and Mishaer had further damaged her constitution by catching a chill last winter.

William planned to go hunting for deer in the forest tomorrow once he finished the boots.

When it came to nourishing one's vitality, ginseng, bird's nest, and velvet antler were the best. Ginseng was too potent, and while bird's nest was mild, it was slightly sluggish in effect; besides, given Chen Jinyang's current circumstances, finding either was difficult. Only velvet antler was relatively accessible.

A deer was a treasure from head to toe. Velvet antler was a precious traditional medicinal ingredient, known for its ability to promote body fluids, nourish the marrow, enrich the blood, strengthen the yang, and fortify the tendons and bones. Even if velvet antler wasn't available this season, deer antlers, bones, fetuses, hearts, blood, tendons, and tails were all valuable, nourishing ingredients. Furthermore, venison was tender and delicious, rich in red meat with little connective tissue; it was excellent for tonifying the spleen and qi, warming the kidneys, and strengthening the marrow. It was a superb tonic, especially for those who suffered from cold hands and feet.

If the Hidden Forest lacked anything else, it certainly did not lack deer of all kinds.

In particular, there was the Dire Elk, a creature as massive and sturdy as an elephant, known for its fierce and combative nature and immense strength. Its body was covered in dark, shaggy fur, with sharp, bony plates extending from its shoulders, back, and legs. The massive antlers of a bull could exceed three and a half meters, and its weight could reach over three tons. William had once seen one of these dire beasts—a giant armored lifeform with a shoulder height of three meters and a body length of over six meters, excluding the tail, with antlers almost as large as its body.

The heavy snow stopped on the night of the third day, and the shrieking gale vanished on the morning of the fourth. William pushed hard against the cellar hatch, and a biting chill accompanied by swirling snowflakes rushed in. He couldn't help but shiver, wrapped his thick blanket tighter, and steeled himself to climb out.

The snow on the ground was over two feet deep, swallowing his legs with every step. The crisp sunlight refracted off the snow, creating a magnificent, colorful display. A few unknown birds hopped about in the stables, but upon seeing William, they chirped and scattered into nothingness. Two goats lay in a pile of uncleared hay, chewing their cud listlessly, too proud to spare William a single glance.

By the time Alos and Mishaer woke up, William had already cleared a path in the snow and swept a small open space in the square in front of the tavern.

The fire in the hearth was still roaring, and the iron pot emitted the savory scent of Lanwo stewed with sausages. Little Alos rubbed his eyes, stretched his arms wide, and sat up to see Mishaer lying on top of the sleeping bag, fiddling with a strange-looking little boot. Beside her lay two large and one small boot, all equally ugly and bizarre. He swore he had never seen such hideous footwear; they were only slightly better than the fur-shoes he used to bundle together—well, just slightly.

"Mishaer, where is Big Brother?"

"William went out. Alos, look! Look!" Mishaer reached her hand into the boot and held it out toward Alos. "This glove... it's so ugly!"

William, who had just walked in, stumbled and nearly fell. Although he knew his craftsmanship was poor, Mishaer's words were a devastating blow. The boots he had worked so hard to make were actually mistaken for gloves. He pretended nothing was wrong as he walked in, preparing to sternly critique Mishaer's aesthetic sense.

"William! Look! Ah! Your gloves... they're so big!" Seeing William enter, the little girl, who had been preparing to show off her treasure, couldn't help but exclaim upon seeing the "gloves" on his feet.

William was thoroughly defeated by the child's blunt honesty.

Little Alos shrugged helplessly at William, who was looking his way. Although he knew his big brother had been busy with these things for the past two days, he had to admit that Mishaer's boots really did look like gloves without separated fingers. Making boots by hand, especially using the hard padding from the bottom of a sleeping bag as raw material, was a grueling test of a cobbler's skill. It was passable for larger sizes, but for something as small as Mishaer's, it could only turn out as a monstrosity.

After a bout of playful teasing, William helped Mishaer put on the boots—or rather, "foot-gloves." Inside, he had wrapped thin, soft blanket strips to serve as socks and foot-wraps, and he tied the cuffs tight with thin strips of blanket. The little girl took a few steps, walking back and forth with a proud, spirited air.

Hmm! They were indeed very warm.

After breakfast, William instructed Alos to lock the door and look after his sister. He wrapped a blanket around himself, tucked an iron sword and a dagger into his belt, carried two wooden javelins, and slung his backpack and rope over his shoulder before strolling out of the village.

The entire world was vast and white, a boundless expanse of silver. He walked through the forest; the gale from the previous night had sent the birds and beasts into hiding, leaving behind a profound silence.

Treading through the knee-deep snow, William headed toward a valley that offered shelter from the wind. Animals were likely to be hiding there, though there was also the possibility of various monsters seeking refuge and hunting. However, being bold and skilled, he wasn't overly worried—though one might wonder if he was arrogant or simply fearless due to ignorance.

After struggling through the snow for half a day, William finally approached the sheltered valley. He discovered animal tracks in the snow, seemingly from a digitigrade predator. William looked up at the wind direction; it was a light breeze blowing toward him. The terrain in the forest was complex, and the wind shifted unpredictably. To hunt animals with keen senses and high alertness, a hunter had to constantly monitor his position relative to the wind.

William followed the tracks quickly and soon detected movement ahead. He observed carefully and saw a Jungle Gray Leopard slowly approaching a flock of Snow Pearl Chickens with standard feline stealth.

As a human, William's footsteps were like thunder compared to the Jungle Gray Leopard. Consequently, both the predator and the prey noticed the uninvited guest. The Snow Pearl Chickens erupted in a panic, scattering in a flurry of feathers and squawks, leaving behind a bewildered predator.

The Jungle Gray Leopard, its ambush failed, let out a low, threatening growl at William before walking away in disappointment.

William, feeling no shame for his rude interruption of someone else's "breakfast," continued toward the valley. When he climbed a small ridge and looked out, a large group of various herbivores appeared before him.

There were deer, muntjac, antelope, wild cattle, wild sheep, Woolly Rhinos, and Gray Mastodons, and even a few Razor Boars. Some were digging through the snow to find seeds and withered grass hidden beneath, while others were tearing at shrubs and dried vines. The strongest Gray Mastodons were exerting themselves to topple thin pine trees to feed on the needles at the crowns.

William's target was the Pachy-Deer, a type of forest deer with fine, smooth fur, roughly the size of a light horse. The Pachy-Deer had large, thick antlers, with brow tines that were vertical and flattened, and main beams that branched into palm-like shapes at the ends. This deer was gentle, cautious, and alert, preferring to forage for moss, small shrub branches, and needles; it could even be domesticated.

The village had a massive stockpile of hay for livestock, and he planned to capture a few alive to take back. The domesticated Pachy-Deer would shed their old antlers next spring and grow new velvet, which would be much more reliable to harvest than hunting in the wild, and he would have access to fresh deer blood whenever needed.

William took the rope from his body, fashioned a slipknot, and slowly approached the location of the Pachy-Deer herd.

Suddenly, chaotic shouts and roars erupted from the surroundings. A group of Goblins, led by two Ogres, charged out from another direction. The herd fell into immediate chaos, screaming as they struggled to leap and flee through the deep snow.

William, who had been preparing to strike, could only hurriedly throw his rope. Two Pachy-Deer, unable to dodge in time, had their antlers entangled and struggled in panic. He stood up, dodged the main stampede of beasts, and instinctively grabbed a muntjac that ran past, pinning it to the ground. He tied its limbs with rope and dragged it over to the Pachy-Deer, tethering all three prey together.

A dozen or so weak or small animals couldn't run far in the deep snow, and the Goblins rushed up to beat them to death with clubs, fighting amongst themselves to carve up the catch.

The two Ogres, who had been chasing the herd, spotted William. They immediately abandoned their nearly-secured prey and ran toward him, shoving each other as they went. Compared to the coarse beasts, the Ogres preferred the taste of soft, tender humans.

Standing on the snow that had been packed hard by the herd, William drew a javelin. His spine moved like a giant python, his feet sank, and power surged from his roots. He whipped his hand around, and the javelin shot out with a sharp whistle. The leading Ogre was grinning as it ran, but it felt a cold, sharp pain in its mouth; the javelin had pierced straight through its maw and out the back of its head, pinning it to the snow with a spray of foul blood.

The Ogre collapsed into the snow, its chaotic consciousness plunging into endless darkness.

William, having succeeded in one strike, couldn't help but cheer inwardly: Damn! That was satisfying! I actually meant to aim for its chest, but thanks to that slip of my foot, I hit a vital spot.

The slower Ogre, seeing its competitor fall, was overjoyed, thinking its chance had arrived, and ran even harder. After a while, it subconsciously looked back to see if its companion was catching up, only to find it twitching on the ground. The Ogre sensed something was wrong, and then it spotted the blood-stained javelin stuck in the snow.

Do not assume Ogres are unintelligent; in reality, they are quite clever, with an intellect on par with humans. It was just that most Ogres were raised in the wild, without knowledge or guidance from elders, and were inherently savage, greedy, and cruel, which made them appear dull and stupid.

The surviving Ogre finally realized its companion had been killed. It turned back and saw William holding another javelin, poised to throw. It was terrified out of its wits. The giant creature let out a desperate, ghostly howl, tripped in its haste to stop, and slid over a dozen meters. When it looked up, it found itself even closer to William, the god of death.

The terrified Ogre clutched its head, rolling and crawling in a panic, wailing as it fled as fast as it could in the opposite direction of William.

The Goblins, who had been harvesting their spoils, were gathering to watch the spectacle. They stood dumbfounded as the Ogre brothers ended up with one dead and one fled. When William's gaze swept over them, they dropped their newly acquired prey and vanished in a flash; the speed at which these little things could flee was truly exceptional.

William, who had expected a fierce battle, stared blankly at the retreating monsters, feeling that this victory was somewhat inexplicable. These monsters had retreated far too easily; weren't powerful monsters supposed to fight to the death? Ogres, where was your courage?

Unable to fathom it, William stopped thinking about it. He happily collected a few extra spoils, cut some branches to build a drag-sled, and hauled his prey back home.