Winter Hunting - Chapter 12
He might be pleading but his eyes bore strength and strong determination. It was an expression of will that there is nowhere else he could go if he turned back from here.
Her father was gripping the small hand that he was holding with full strength. It hurts, it’s as if her hand was being broken. But even at a young age, she knew that she wasn’t in a situation to reveal it. Little Ariste hid behind his father’s cloak and looked up at the villagers.
–“It’s dangerous to shelter outsiders in the village.”
Everyone said the same thing when they saw the beggar and little Ariste. Things outside are dangerous, and that thought was reflected enough in their eyes Even if they didn’t say it with their mouths.
“I know how to handle medicinal herbs.”
Her father’s words greatly contributed to moving the village chief’s heart. It was just then when the only therapist in the village died. My father’s words were a harsh proposal not only to the village chief but also to all the villagers. Moreover, it was also when the village chief’s old mother was lying in her sickbed. She wasn’t in a good condition and it was enough to prepare for the funeral soon.
The village chief nodded and gave the old woman in the house a treatment a while later. After that, my father gave full care to the village chief’s old mother. And the old mother who barely had the strength to move recovered enough energy to sit down and talk.
Ariste rubbed her swollen eyes and finally failed to drive away her sleepiness.
But she was unable to sleep properly, she just dozed off and woke up. Crouching in her cloak, she waited for the night to pss. But as she watched the setting sun, she began to wonder off again.
‘Where to go?’
She thought the village was her last dwelling place, so she lived flat on her face. Village hunters were often injured, but the wounds were mostly minor trauma. Nevertheless, sometimes there were also fatal wounds obtained from dealing with large animals.
There were many.
Her role was to heal those wounds. It was her job to wrap those wounds well so that it would not turn for the worse and to help them recover. After her father passed away, she took over what he had been doing. So she did everything for the villagers every single day.
But the result was this.
It’s like running away from the beginning to end.
She hopes to forget everything just like this, please. Would she die being buried in this snow? But if she didn’t run away…
It was when Ariste buried her face over her knees.
Her bowed head lifted up. The sudden sound of gunfire was faint, but it was enough to completely blow away her remaining sleepy shadow.
Then the gun shout became louder and clearer, As if breaking her mind intending for something to go wrong.
She heard it, the gunshot. She heard it from early dawn in the mountains.
However it wasn’t a gunshot used when hunting preys. It was a shot to gather the prey that should be somewhere around the mountain. The beasts were chased by the sounds of birds and guns that she did not know of. And hunters flocked at the best places to hunt.
Now, the sound of the gun was obviously going closer to Ariste.
The body that had been helplessly drooping suddenly rose up.
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