The Orthodox blockade could cut off highways and waterways, but it could not stop backpackers.
They could always find forgotten trails in the gaps on a map. Even where there was no path, they could forge one, seeping silently into the most unexpected places like water through cracks in stone.
Three young people were struggling along a muddy path by the river.
The tall one in front wore a bright yellow waterproof hiking jacket and carried a backpack half as tall as he was. The girl in the middle had her hair in a ponytail, and her sky-blue quick-dry pants were spattered with mud. Bringing up the rear, a chubby young man in a T-shirt printed with "He who has never been to the Great Wall is not a true man" was panting as he leaned against a crooked tree.
"Let's take a break, take a break..." The fat man plopped down on a tree root, unscrewed his water bottle, and gulped down several mouthfuls. "This damn weather. It starts raining whenever it feels like it."
The tall man took off his backpack and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "If you hadn't insisted on taking the wild route, we'd be at the hotel drinking hot soup by now."
"This is what you call an adventure!" The girl was still full of enthusiasm. She pulled out her phone and aimed it at the gloomy river. "Let me post this... The calm before the storm. Guess where we are?"
Just then, the fat man suddenly pointed at the river and cried out, "Holy shit! What's that?"
The three of them looked toward the center of the river at the same time. A black shadow burst from the water, its enormous body covered in bony protrusions stretching beneath the lightning. Its long