The Eastern Snowfield.
"Whooo~"
The bitter wind howled past.
The old hunter carried a longbow and a spear on his back, with an enormous hunting dog at his side.
The bright moon shone over the earth, and heavy snow sealed the mountains.
The old hunter went inside and lit the stove.
Before long, the little house warmed up.
The old hunter put the two rabbits he had caught that day on the floor, picked up his boning knife, and carefully dressed them.
The rabbit pelts were useful. Once spring came, he could take them out and sell them.
The old hunter sniffled.
Outside, the bitter wind howled, and the sky soon grew dark.
Rabbit stewed with stem lettuce.
The pot bubbled away, steaming hot.
The meat was tender and delicious.
The old hunter drank a large bowl in one go, leaving the rest for breakfast tomorrow.
He wiped his mouth and burrowed into his bedding.
Then he prepared to sleep.
"Knock, knock~"
Hmm?
The old hunter suddenly frowned.
"Knock, knock!"
Someone knocking!?
The old hunter jolted awake and drew the boning knife from his waist.
A sharp gleam flashed in his eyes.
At this late hour, whoever was knocking was likely a mountain spirit, a wild monster, or some wandering ghost...
Since the old hunter dared to live here alone, he naturally had some courage.
"Woof, woof, woof!!"
The black hunting dog growled.
"Who is it?" the old hunter asked in a low voice.
"We're travelers passing through, sir. Might we stay the night?"
A gentle voice came from outside.
Travelers? What a joke.
The old hunter held the boning knife in a reverse grip, his vigilance undiminished.
"We're good people."
"This fairy is a good cat, too."
A little girl's voice came from outside as well.
"Moo~"
*Old Ox