Porcha coughed dryly twice, as if he had a hard time remembering him. Pen | fun | pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 info He speaks very slowly, like a craftsman who is striving for perfection slowly polishing a tool. Feljans listened attentively, not noticing that it was nearly evening, and the vast twilight shrouded the field, and the occasional sound of horses' hooves trampling the ground could be heard in the open grassland, which seemed very lonely. Polcha looked at Ferjans, as if he felt a little guilty, he was really a little tired, Ferjans naturally noticed it, and looked at Polcha gratefully.

When night came, the whole manor seemed very quiet, and the moonlight was coldly sprinkled on the large fields. The old man tossed and turned in bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. He looked at his sharpened knife that hung on the wall, and still remembered that restless, frightened night for many years. The images of the Karadian and the Kujit were mixed up and then separated in his memory, and he tried to separate them clearly and clearly. Impulsiveness, fear and restraint were intertwined, and he did not know where the violent desires and impulses in his heart came from. He finally couldn't sleep, got up, untied the knife and went out. The knife glittered in the cold moonlight, like a piece of crystalline ice. He suddenly felt a chill to his bones, which made him shiver a little. He immediately wanted to move, and when he had exhausted his strength, he should be able to sleep well. He once ran outside on such a night and killed two or three ringing horses in exchange for a restful night's sleep. Now that he is much older, he no longer does this, but he still habitually takes his knife with him and walks around. Walking and walking, he came to the hut in his courtyard, he didn't know where the impulse came from, he seemed to unconsciously open the door of Porcha's room, like a child being swept under the wheels, and what happened afterwards seemed to be beyond his control. Porcha slept soundly, and in his dreams he remembered the bright and sunny noon, the timid and down-to-earth merchant, and his gentle and friendly eyes, which made a slight smile on his lips. The old man felt that he was full of vitality again, but this vitality only lasted for a short time, and he understood it clearly. He also understood that this vitality stemmed from an impulse that he could not restrain himself.

Outside the house there was a dead silence, followed by a low, hoarse cry like that of a prey after it had been wounded, followed by a slow, dull wheezing sound. Then everything fell into a deathly silence, as if there had never been a sound. Under the cold moonlight, red blood flowed out of the crack in the door, and it was especially vivid on the barren grass in the courtyard.

When Feljans woke up in the morning and knocked on Porcha's house, he noticed the congealed blood. The old man leaned on the edge of the bed like a zombie, his face full of excitement, fear and uneasiness, but it had become stiff because he had lost his breath. Porcha had a knife stuck in his chest, and his hands were still clenching the blades, the joy of the memory mixed with the fear of death on his aging face. Feljans trembled constantly, and for the first time he felt such fear and sadness, for he had no idea of what was happening, and knew nothing. Yesterday, however, when he really looked at Porcha and the old man's faces, a dying foreboding premonition appeared in his heart, like the clear water of a pool muddled by the sand and stones at the bottom.

As he gradually recovered from this flustered and bewildered situation, he looked out of the courtyard, where there was not a single figure in the large clearing under the clear sky, and the two horses stood quietly in the stables, barely moving. He had dug two holes in the ground of the courtyard by instinct, and in the long process, for the first time, he felt the importance of instinct, something he had rarely faced and relied on before. The pit he dug was ugly, because he hadn't done anything like that before, but it was enough to put the two men who were both old to him in it. When the body was put in, he began to bury it little by little, swinging his shovel to turn the earth back as he had dug it up. He tries not to think about anything and just focus on the action itself. But the old sense of confusion returned, and the sound of Porcha's optimist exhortations echoed in his ears again, as if it had come from some distant and strange place. In fact, he didn't know anything about the man who seemed to be too old, and he didn't know the somewhat twisted old man with a tired, frightened and excited face. He felt like he didn't know all this. He tried to convince himself that nothing had happened. When he had finally filled in the crude tomb, he leaned aside, and it was noon, and he said to himself, he hated noon.

He was tired, hungry, and thirsty, so he instinctively went out again to find some bread and water, and swallowed them all. At that time, he really didn't know why he was here, and he really didn't know what he was going to do in the first place. He just kept looking at the little piece of land he had just filled, as if he wanted to naively think that it was the way it was. For the first time, he wanted to go home so much, and the beautiful countenance of so-called travels and adventures was finally destroyed, and for the first time this strange manipulation of the so-called fate (which he now thought was) and the fear of the nothingness of death were so thoroughly displayed before him. He walked slowly to the stables, mounted the horse that Fatis had given him, and departed, and soon disappeared into the field.

As Ferjans wandered through the endless steppes, he was able to calm down and think about what had happened these days. He attributed what had happened to him to his own innocence, and the events of that night to fate, but because he had not been with Porcha for a few days, what actually made him even more confused was the great sense of emptiness in the face of death. At first, the feeling of emptiness prevented him from doing anything, and had to run around needlessly to consume and distract himself. Later, when he was able to calm down, he re-read his manuscript, and a sense of urgency became stronger. He felt that his writing was still imperfect, some were not coherent enough, and it seemed that a few key stories were missing. Then he began to think about whether he should continue to roam like this, and he consoled himself with this sense of fear in his travels and adventures. After a few days, he finally stabilized his confidence, and he was determined to find out all about Leon's deeds. With a goal in mind and a plan clear, he decided to go from the Gamiyad Pass to Salander.

When he came to Pahimi, he could finally sing again, but now there seemed to be a little more vicissitudes and impermanence in his singing. The villagers regarded him as a good, well-rounded, strong young man, and his singing deepened this good impression. That night, the village chief's youngest daughter held a wedding, and Feuerjans improvised and sang a song for the newlyweds, which won the applause of everyone and the soft autumn waves of the girls, and even the bride's cheeks were crimson, which made the groom's face a little ugly. The old and simple village chief liked this young man the most, so he kept him and asked him about his experience. Feljans only vaguely said that he was a bard, and that he was going to Dukuba to meet a famous poet, and now he no longer seemed to be as straightforward as he had been.

Early the next morning, the village chief led two people over. One of the young men was tall and strong, but his face was still very immature, and he thought that he should be the son of the village chief. And the thin, shrewd, and energetic-looking middle-aged man next to the young man should be their guide. Feljans waved warmly at them, and reported his name and origin.

"Ah, you're Feljans, I'm glad to meet you, and with such a good-looking poet, the journey will certainly not be boring!" the young man shook Feljans' hand vigorously, and said with a smile, "My name is Baska, please take care of me in the future." ”

The middle-aged man also greeted him happily, and said in a hearty voice: "I am your guide, just call me Machiko, you can follow me closely after that, and I will send you to Dukuba." ”

"Hello Uncle Macchiko, I'll leave it to you later. Feljans saluted politely again.

Then the old village chief gave them a few words of advice and sent them out of the village. When the traveler completely disappeared into the grassland, the old man who saw him off turned around and walked away in a daze.

"What did you want to do when you left your hometown?" Ferjans suddenly asked about Baska as they walked out of the steppe, and the endless desert gradually revealed itself before their eyes, and the vitality of youth seemed to re-infect him.

"I haven't thought about this yet, it's nerve-wracking to think about it. Baska scratched his head and made a strange appearance of headache, "Actually, I just don't want to be a farmer at home for the rest of my life, I want to go to a lot of places, and then I can meet a lot of interesting people, so this kind of life is more interesting." ”

Feljans smiled. He never thought about whether it was interesting or not, he just thought it was fun to write and sing, and he liked to see people's laughing faces. He remembered that he had traveled to so many villages before, and that some people had asked him to do so, but he had declined them all, and he felt that he could be more free by himself. In fact, a large part of the reason why the old village chief promised to give them a guide was because the old village chief promised to give them a guide. But now it seems that having such a straightforward and lovely young man in the company is actually not a bad thing.

Anyway, I also learned some trades from my father, and I should be able to work as a craftsman temporarily in the town, and it will not be a problem to live. Baska said, cheering himself up, his blue eyes full of hope. Feuernes liked the soft glow, and his mood became cheerful.

"Don't just chat, hurry up and keep up, you can't catch up at night if you walk so slowly!" came Mashko's stern voice from the front. The two young men looked at each other, laughed in unison, and hurried up.

After they caught up, Macko glared at the two of them, looking at the innocent expressions on their faces, but secretly laughing in his heart. When the two young men saw that he was so serious, they cautiously followed him closely, not knowing that the humorous uncle was teasing them. When Felljans saw the other kugit bow at Machk's waist, he suddenly became a little curious, so he boldly asked, "Uncle Machk, are there many robbers on this road?"

Macchico glanced at him and said nonchalantly, "yes." ”

Baska nervously added, "I've heard my father say that the desert bandits are the most abundant in this desert, most of them are masked, and few people live to see their true faces. Fellyans suddenly felt nervous when he heard this, although he had been kidnapped, but the process was confused, and he had never seen the kind of fierce robbers who robbed homes and houses.

Seeing the two of them trying to hide their fear, Machiko couldn't help it, laughed, patted the bow on his waist, and said, "I haven't seen anything, there are more desert robbers who died under my bow, and I don't bother to look at them one by one." ”

When the two young men saw this thin uncle talking like this, they were a little skeptical, but they both hid it in their hearts, and they both put on a look of admiration on their faces. Marchko's little eyes could tell what they really thought at a glance, and he didn't say anything, thinking that he would be able to show them a hand later.

Seeing that the situation was a little embarrassing, Feljans changed the subject: "Uncle Macchiko, don't all Svadians love to use crossbows?

Machiko pursed his lips and replied to him with a smile: "Silly boy, the heavy crossbows of the Svadians are useless on horseback, and those Kugit barbarians are savage, but their horse archers are really powerful. Suddenly, there was a rain of arrows in the east, and suddenly there was a rain of arrows in the west, and few people could eat in the war. Although it is difficult to shoot on a horse, it is also a stunt when practiced, you think about it and others can't catch up with you, and they can't hit you, so you can only be shot alive, hahaha. Then he burst out laughing.

Fairyans thought about it carefully, but a new question immediately popped up in his mind, and he didn't expect to be asked by Baska: "In this case, how can the Kugit still lose to our queen?"

"Well, another stupid boy, do you think you can win the war by shooting a few more arrows?" Matchko shook his head disapprovingly, and then suddenly said solemnly, "Are we going to abandon our families, our land, and our hometown for fear of being pierced by arrows?"