By August, the Black Tiger's Paw Mushroom season was nearly over, so when Li Long drove into the mountains early that morning, he still saw people heading in, but only a scattered few.
Occasionally, he saw someone coming out with a sack on their back. Clearly, they had either gone in very early or spent the night in the mountains and were now bringing back their haul.
Judging by how they carried those sacks, they most likely contained mushrooms. There were fewer Black Tiger's Paw Mushrooms now than in the first month, but there were still some, and these people had probably picked other mushrooms too.
If they were locals, they could sell the Black Tiger's Paw Mushrooms and take the other nonpoisonous mushrooms home to eat. Those made a fine dish too.
They were mountain delicacies, after all, and better than the vegetables people usually ate.
The farther he went into the mountains, the fewer people he encountered. By the time he neared Harimu and the others' winter camp, he could see footprints on the road, but hardly anyone was around.
By now, most people had branched off into the various mountain gullies to pick mushrooms, dig medicinal herbs, or collect deer antlers.
When Harimu Winter Camp came into view, Li Long saw quite a few people gathered there. Every household had probably sent someone. After all, the hay they cut was for their own livestock over the winter. Unless they were especially close, they were unlikely to let others cut hay for their household.
Seeing Li Long's Jeep arrive, they all began laughing and joking. Some were already walking over.
Their horses were tethered beside the horse pen, grazing with their heads lowered. Some snorted.
The horses were spaced apart, mainly to keep them from fighting.
Li Long