Prologue
Intense pain awakens his consciousness from the chaos.
Flames, the elephant...they're just illusions—
Shamane: Ugh...!
His aching abdomen... The herbal paste on the wound gives off a pungent smell.
Shamane: ...?
He sits up. Animal bones hang on the walls, the rough wooden table and shelves...filled with all kinds of jars.
A mask hangs from ropes at the center of the house. Its face is fierce, showing unquestionable authority.
Shamane: ...!
Shamane: Now ... I am on the right track.
A note is weighed down by a rock on the chair.
"Close the door."
Shamane: Hah-hah...
The owner isn't a warm-hearted fellow then.
But rejection is never the issue... All he has left now is patience.
He gets up and pushes open the creaking door, stepping across the threshold—he needs to quell his hunger first before the owner returns.
Goat Herd
The stream flows steadily as a group of Tahrs drink by the water. They look docile and clumsy—not alert in the slightest.
Shamane: Okay.
He tries hard to ignore the pangs of hunger tormenting his stomach. The dagger turns lightly in his palm, and his footsteps grow more cautious.
Shamane: Shh...Please, keep drinking...
A muskox abruptly looks up, its eyes meeting his. The shining dagger reflects in its slanted pupil.
...
Shamane: D**n!
Like a snapped line, it scurries away in panic.
The other musks respond to the escape call, running away one after another. In a flash, Shamane stands alone on the plains, like a lone sprig.
Shamane: sigh...
He sits on a rock, heaving a long sigh.
Stone Circle: One
He washes his grimy face, the icy water sobering him a little more.
If he goes deeper into the forest, perhaps he can fill his belly with some berries—if lucky, he may still get to prepare a meeting gift for that mysterious old shaman.
Shamane: "Grace repays grace"...
Shamane: ...One of the few useful teachings the clan left me.
He casually picks up some pebbles and stuffs them in his pocket to keep the beasts away and knock berries off trees.
Shamane: —Hmm?
He frowns, keeping his distance, the pebbles on the ground arranged in a pattern like a spell.
Shamane: What...is this...
It's no longer intact because of his disruption.
Shamane: It looks like—
Shamane: Owww—! What?
He looks down and sees a furry carbuncle biting his thigh.
Shamane: ...? Just where did you come from?
He lifts his leg, swinging hard. The carbuncle flies midair like a fallen fledgling, crashing heavily into the soft soil.
Carbuncle: %@#!
Shamane holds it up to his face, examining the tiny strange creature.
Suddenly, it quiets down, grinning meaningfully. Shamane turns his head—a group of carbuncles is charging ferociously towards him.
Carbuncles: %@#! %@#!
Shamane: Do we have to do this, little one?
Shamane: Shall we make a deal?
The squeezed carbuncle stares silently, seeming unwilling to let him go...
Shamane: ...Fine.
COMBAT
It lifts its head, grabbing a branch in its mouth, proudly proclaiming this great victory. The carbuncles below crowd together, hopping about. It's a grand furry event, to be recorded in their history.
After each carbuncle leaves a footprint on him, the festivities finally come to an end...
Shamane: ...
Shamane: Sigh, I should be used to this...
Getting up, he brushes the mud off, his empty stomach hastening his steps.
It's not time to stop yet, but he knows his exhausted body can't face any more turmoil.
Berries
Forests always nest packs of wolves.
Berries were scattered around, but it was him they were eyeing, baring fangs, growling low, and clearly unwilling to let him leave.
Shamane: Come on then, try me, friends.
Of course, he can't fight the wolf pack.
But right now, retreating and advancing are equally dangerous—bluffing is also a philosophy of survival.
Shamane: I will cut your one belly open before you pierce my neck with those teeth and suck up my blood.
The alpha approaches step by step, the rest of the pack following far behind.
Shamane: He takes out his dagger, legs instinctively in a battle stance.
The sound of the wolves' pursuit is relentless, trailing closely behind...
Epilogue
This is the end.
Below the towering cliff, lies a turbulent, narrow river. Vultures circle above, awaiting fresh corpses.
He has nowhere left to retreat.
The wolf pack halts. For this imminent meal, what they have to consider now is how to obtain it...with the fewest losses...
Shamane: ...
He closes his eyes, nostrils contracting as he inhales.
Shamane: If it can stop here...
The pack attacks, but he releases the dagger in hand. Now any one of their claws can tear his body apart.
？？？: Phwwhht—!
A whistle sounds and the wolves pause, quickly retreating back to their original spots.
A hunchbacked figure strides out of the forest, casually throwing the wolves some rotten meat. The alpha takes the meat, leaving silently with the rest of the pack.
Shaman: Heh ...
He turns his head slightly, his gaze sliding past the dagger on the ground and glancing at the figure standing at the edge of the cliff before heading into the forest without looking back.
Shamane watches the hunchbacked figure leave further and further. Finally snapping out of shock, he jogs to catch up.