༺ 𓆩 Chapter 10 𓆪 ༻
「Translator — Creator」
᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘᠂ ⚘᠃
As Hunbish and Alak galloped across the plains, a small hut came into view not far ahead.
He decided to stop and rest for a moment.
“Whoa.”
The lone hut, oddly placed in the middle of the vast steppe, was once a resting shelter for hunters.
Back when Uhule used to train Hunbish, he would often leave him here while he went off on longer hunts.
Then, Hunbish would be left to survive with only a small ration of food until his father returned.
If the hunt dragged on too long, the food would run out quickly, and all he could do was fetch water from a nearby well to fill his stomach.
"I wonder if there's still water in the well."
Unfortunately, the well had long since dried up — likely the result of the years-long drought.
The hut itself looked like it hadn’t been used in some time. Cobwebs clung to the corners, and layers of dust coated the floor.
Creeeeak—!!!
As Hunbish opened the door, the old hinges groaned in protest.
Scrabble—!!! Scrabble—!!! Scrabble—!!!
Startled by his presence, a small rat darted out from the shadows, its feet tapping the floor as it disappeared into a hole.
“Wow… It’s been a long time.”
To his surprise, the inside of the hut was still in decent condition.
Aside from a few mouse droppings in one corner and a light film of dust, it looked like someone had been tidying up until recently.
It was probably Uhule.
He had a habit of stopping here to clean up on his way back from a hunt.
“It feels smaller now…”
The hut felt narrower than he remembered, and the ceiling seemed lower — low enough that he thought he might hit his head if he jumped in place.
He thought he'd been stagnant all these years, but apparently his body had kept growing.
After taking a look around and comparing the hut to his childhood memories, Hunbish sat down at the round table and spread out a map.
It was an old map of the Olus territory.
It hadn’t been updated with newly maintained roads, but it still showed the old mountain paths that had fallen out of use.
Perfect for avoiding the patrolling scouting parties.
All the usual routes from the village into the mountains had been sealed off, so if he wanted to reach the area where he’d set his traps, he’d need to find a new way in.
“Hmm…”
He carefully examined the long mountain range stretching north of the village, as well as the smaller branches flanking it to the east and west.
The traps were set along the eastern ridge, meaning he’d have to ascend from the right-hand side.
He spotted a detour path from the opposite side of the village that would connect to that ridge.
It would take a bit longer, but still manageable within a day.
“Alright. This’ll do.”
He rolled up the map, tucked it into his satchel, and stood up.
Still, it felt like he could breathe a little easier after being stifled by the blockade order.
A groundless confidence began to rise that he might be able to catch the golden-furred marten more easily than expected.
𓇗
Swish—!!! Swish—!!!
“Neeeeeigh.”
By the time the sun began to set, Hunbish had made it barely halfway to his intended destination.
The old path, long untouched, had become impassable — overgrown with branches and vines, with patches of earth collapsed and unstable. It was no longer a trail fit for riding.
The eastern slope of the mountain, which he had thought would be easier due to its sunlit exposure, was denser with undergrowth than expected.
Nature’s resilience and ceaseless change were not to be underestimated.
“Haah… haah…”
He cut through the obstructing branches with a curved blade, detouring wherever he could no longer force his way forward — but it was a constant struggle.
Eventually, with dusk fast approaching, he decided to turn back.
Clearing the path would likely take another two full days.
The traps were already in place, and leaving them unattended for a day or two wouldn’t hurt.
At last, Hunbish turned his horse around.
“There’s nothing ever easy, is it?”
The whole village was in a frenzy preparing for an attack by the forest men, but Hunbish himself had not been assigned a single task.
Whether it was a relief to have the time to spare like this, or a misfortune to be so disconnected from the rest of the village — he couldn’t tell.
“Still… I’m glad I have you with me, at least.”
“Prrrrh.”
The descent was no easier than the climb.
It felt like the branches and vines he’d cleared earlier had grown back in moments.
Sometimes he found himself taking a different path down, only to run into dead ends — leaving him with an eerie sense of being led astray by something unseen.
Awooooooo—!!!
As the sun dipped behind the western ridge, the long, mournful howl of a wolf echoed through the valley.
Alak’s ears twitched, and his eyes darted about nervously.
Hunbish’s unease grew as he failed to find a proper trail.
If he wasn't careful, he might be forced to camp in the wilderness until morning.
But camping without preparation was dangerous.
He had no idea what might happen in the forest — what predators might appear, or what monsters might descend upon him.
If the forest men were to ambush him now, without a clear path or the means to flee, he would have no choice but to fight — and die.
‘I have to find a way off this mountain.’
Hunbish narrowed his eyes, scanning the darkening woods for any hint of a path.
Then — suddenly.
A rustling came from a nearby thicket, not far ahead.
“Who’s there?!”
Tense, Hunbish called out. The sound retreated.
He kept his eyes trained on where the noise had come from. After a while, the rustling returned — this time approaching again, brushing against the bushes.
It didn’t seem poised to attack. It felt more like it was circling him… toying with him.
“…If this is a joke, stop it.”
Whatever it was, it gave no answer.
It continued to draw closer, only to pull away again — over and over, as if coaxing him to follow.
It almost felt as though it was leading him somewhere.
“................”
With the sun already set and the paths growing increasingly difficult to see, Hunbish, in a moment of resigned recklessness, decided to follow the mysterious creature.
If it turned out to be a wild beast that attacked him — well, he’d deal with it when the time came.
As he trailed after it, he began to notice familiar signs along the way — branches and vines he had cut earlier in the day to clear a path.
Contrary to his initial anxiety, the strange guide was quietly and faithfully leading him back down the mountain.
The surrounding forest had grown so dark that, without this silent escort, finding the path again would’ve been nearly impossible.
He followed it without thinking, eyes fixed ahead.
Then suddenly, the guide scampered up a tall tree and began shaking one of its branches.
“…What’s that supposed to mean?”
His confusion only lasted a moment — Hunbish realized he had returned to the base of the mountain.
Whoever — or whatever — this enigmatic creature was, it had brought him back safely, without asking for anything in return. It was a gesture of pure goodwill.
The branch it shook swayed rhythmically, almost as if it were waving goodbye.
Hunbish watched it for a moment, then reached into his satchel.
“Thanks for bringing me all the way back. Not sure if you’ll like this…”
He laid out a few strips of dried lamb on a nearby rock; they were leftovers from the emergency rations he had eaten for lunch.
The unseen guide, still perched in the tree, descended partway down when it spotted the offering — then hesitated.
It seemed reluctant to reveal itself.
“So you do like it. That’s a relief.”
Seeing the creature show interest in the lamb, Hunbish smiled with satisfaction and continued his descent.
As he emerged from the forest, the open steppe stretched before him, bathed in twilight.
Stars began to blink into existence one by one above, as he rode homeward toward the village.
𓇗
“It’s definitely the work of a fox.”
The shepherd Melduk, hearing Hunbish’s tale, was quick to blame a fox.
“Do you know how cunning foxes are? They know they can’t overpower humans directly, so they circle around them, waiting until we’re exhausted.”
“But thanks to it, I made it down the mountain.”
Hunbish defended his mysterious helper, unable to dismiss it outright.
“You really trust something you know nothing about?”
“Ugh…”
“That’s exactly what it’s aiming for. It wanted you to come back—it earned your trust.”
“No way.”
“I’m serious. If you see it again, don’t hesitate — just run.”
Melduk sounded convincing.
After all, there were rumors in the village whenever children vanished — folk tales that foxes had mesmerized and snatched them away.
“They say brother Sanar disappeared once and was later found near the forest, and a fox was circling nearby. If they’d been a little too late, he’d have been gutted.”
“Maybe so…”
Hunbish finally conceded to Melduk’s warning. He had no real knowledge of the creature, after all.
“But anyway — why did you ask me to come last night?”
When he arrived home late the previous night, he’d found a note hanging by the front door, signed with Melduk’s name.
“Oh, that…”
Melduk flashed a mischievous grin.
“Hunbish, we’ve come up with a way to help you.”
The young shepherd puffed up and continued.
“I had to stay to manage the flock, but all the other shepherds have been assigned to the scouting corps. And they’re in different units.”
“So?”
“So…”
Melduk leaned in.
The plan was for the shepherds assigned to the scouting units to share the routes they took and their observations with Melduk. He would compile all that information and pass it along to Hunbish.
“Even if it’s not perfect, you’ll have a rough idea of how the scouts are moving.”
“Huh.” Hunbish couldn’t help but be impressed.
“See? We’re not just talking — we’re actually helping.”
The idea had actually come from Dawaa, the youngest shepherd, on the spot.
But it was Melduk who would execute it — he had access to everyone’s updates and, crucially, was the only one who could read and write them down.
He was the only talent who could convey information through writing without meeting Hunbish directly.
"Every morning early, I'll pretend to go fetch water at the pond south of the village and leave notes behind the big rock."
"Good. I was really worried about running into villagers in the mountains, so this will be plenty helpful."
Melduk fished a piece of parchment from his cloak and offered it to Hunbish. Hunbish quickly accepted it and tucked it away before anyone could see.
“This info came from Tauga and Sansar — they went out on patrol yesterday.”
“Sansar?”
Sansar was three years older than Hunbish and held the status of the oldest, most senior shepherd among them. It was he, along with Dawaa, Melduk, and Tauga, who explained Hunbish’s situation and secured assistance.
“He was just promoted to Decurion — leader of the newly formed unit. That means he now attends meetings that only Decurions and higher can attend.”
“…That’s impressive.”
Power in any community comes from information. Those who know nothing are disadvantaged in every respect compared to those who know everything. In the end, one has no choice but to attach themselves to those who hold power. Sometimes, people pay a fortune for minor pieces of information.
But here, Melduk and the others were willing to share this power — and Hunbish’s future prospects — without asking for anything in return.
“I don’t know how to ever repay you.”
“Hehe. Truth is, we’re thrilled, too!”
Hunbish cocked his head at Melduk’s excitement.
“Tauga, who was always singing about joining the scouts, finally made it in. Sansar became a Decurion — and Dawaa? Smart and skilled as he is, he’ll certainly gain his own standing with the corps.”
Melduk spoke enthusiastically.
The shepherds had been thrust into these roles against their will, and many of them were likely frustrated. Being pressed into service during wartime was a bitter pill. Still, they couldn't abandon the flock, and someone had to stay behind to gather feed from the fields for the sheep. Melduk was still a shepherd, after all.
“But what about you?”
“Me?”
Melduk flashed that scheming grin again.
“Of course I’m excited too! I’m the one putting the messages into writing — no one can do this the way I do!”
Melduk’s pride and earnest joy lit up his face.
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