"Don't touch me." He gritted his teeth. The look on his face frightened Tswana stepped aside. More people came up and pulled him. He staggered and was dragged away.

Then, as before, his instincts were awakened. He turned, roared loudly, and slammed his fist into the man closest to him.

Tswana's father collapsed like a boneless. His jaw was shattered.

Keegan left. Some cried, some cursed, but no one wanted to stop him or catch up with him. They can't help but have a glimmer of pleasure - he will bring bad luck.

On the way home, he kept his eyes tight to keep the tears from flowing. His knuckles twitched, and the pain was comforting him—though he didn't want any comfort.

At the age of nineteen, he built a pyre and cremated his mother. The next morning, he walked up the hillside overlooking the village of Rigern and sprinkled her ashes along the way. He knew that even though his mother had done so much for the village, he would still have to bear a lot of things on his own. Although they were afraid of her, they demanded from her.

He lifted his mother's ashes into the bitter wind while praying to the seal sisters. The only thing that kept him company was his thoughts.

He guessed they were all in the village, and what would they think about their mother's death. They should only care about themselves, and they will worry that there is no doctor in the village. They didn't expect her son to take over anyway. His robber father had poured bad luck into the bloodline of a mage, and he could no longer inherit his mother's powers.

At this moment, those people should be pretending to be sorry and pretending to be compassionate. A few belated kind words were just for them to comfort themselves, to comfort themselves that they would not have to feel guilty about the reproach she had received in her life. More likely, they may be secretly glad that the shadows in their lives have finally dissipated.

Superstitious livestock, all.

Only three people from the village came, but none of them made it in time to say goodbye to his mother. It wasn't until the funeral was over that Tswana, who had been left alone, that Tshwana approached—but her son, who had the same black hair as Tshwana, was reluctant to go near Keegan. The little boy was nearly three years old, cowering beside his father not far away.

"This kid is afraid of me." Keegan said indifferently.

Tswana hesitated, just as her mother had been. So Keegan understood. "He's heard some stories." She admitted.

"I guess so." He struggled to keep his tone calm. "Is there anything wrong with you?"

She kissed him on the cheek. "I'm sorry, Keegan. Your mother has a kind heart. ”

Kindness? It was hard for him to associate the word with his mother, but it was not appropriate to argue about it now. "Yes," he said, "she is kind." But that's what you're here for? We used to know each other so well, I can tell you have something to say. ”

There was not a hint of a smile on her face. "Old Rigun...... I'm going to tell you to leave. ”

Keegan scratched his face. He was so tired today that he couldn't feel anything, let alone be surprised. He didn't have to ask Rigan why he was doing this. A shadow still lingers on the edge of this small village. The last shadow that will eventually dissipate.

"So as long as the is dead, this unfortunate kid can't stay." He spat on the dusty ground, "Because at least it's useful, right?" She's the one who knows magic. ”

"I'm sorry, Keegan."

For a moment, the two men standing on the hillside seemed to go back in time. The fire in his heart seemed to be slowly drained of firewood, just because she was by his side. He breathed in the cold air, trying to suppress the urge to reach out to her.

"It's time for you to go." He muttered under his breath, nodding to Mauwell and the little boy. "Your family is waiting for you."

"Where are you going?" She wrapped her fur a little tighter. "What are you going to do?"

The words of my mother echoed through the years. "Forests will be covered with snow and ice all the way to the end of the world. We're going to die outside......"

"I'll find my father."

She looked at him with an uneasy expression. In her eyes, Keegan could see doubt, and worse, fear—she was afraid he was serious.

"Keegan, are you serious. You don't know who your father is, you don't know where they came from, and you don't know ...... Nothing is known anyway. How could you possibly find him? ”

"At least I'll have to try."

Keegan resisted the urge to spit. Even if it's an unrealistic goal, it sounds better than "Tswana, I don't know what I'm supposed to do." Maybe it's better for a person to die on the ice field. ”

Although the two had barely spoken in the past few years, she was now taking a deep breath and wanted to argue with him. But Keegan shook his head, stopping her words. "I'll visit you before I leave. We'll talk about that then. Tomorrow I will go down the mountain to the village to get some supplies, and I need to go far away. ”

Tswana hesitated again, he understood. It was as if the spirits of the ancestors whispered to him in the wind.

"Old Rigon won't allow it." He sighed. The tone is neither asking nor guessing. "I can't go to the village. I can't buy anything before I go. ”

She shoved a small pocket into his arms, so he was right. He could think of what was inside: dry food, and a few meager supplies—the young couple really couldn't get much out of it. A sudden rush of gratitude in his heart that he was so unaccustomed to made him shudder and almost accept it—just almost—the gift.

But he gave her back the pocket.

"I can handle it." He comforted her. "Don't worry. I can handle it. ”

That night, he walked into the village of Rigern alone.

He had enough supplies in his backpack for a week, an ivory spear in his hand, and a bone ornament from his mother in his braid. He appears to be a wandering shaman like his mother, though he has the size of a warrior and the light steps of a hunter.

There were still three hours before sunrise, and it was the deepest still night. Keegan tiptoed past the huts with extreme caution. During his short and miserable life, these huts had shut him and his mother away. He had no hatred, at least not now—the resentment of the past had turned into embers, only burning slightly. If there is anything else he feels, it is a deep and tiring regret. These simple-minded people are willing to be enslaved by their own prejudices.

However, he only wants to vent his hatred on one person.

Old Rigern's longhouse is prominently located in the very centre of the village. Keegan slowly approached the longhouse in the shadows cast by the low-hanging moonlight, avoiding the eyes of the night watchman. The vigil is boring, so they can be as lazy as they can. After all, what is there to defend the barren tundra and the barren sea? It's been a long time since there have been robbers in the village of Riggen.

Keegan infiltrated the longhouse.