After a brief communication, Mosilaire decided to take Winnie to the temporary residence of the Rose Hill tribe hiding in a wooded area a few hundred meters away, while the leopard volunteered to stay as a "guest" to ensure that the transaction between the two parties could proceed normally.

Before leaving, Mosilaire informed the old knife and Little Red Riding Hood, who were still in the laboratory, and hoped that they would keep a strict watch on the leopard to prevent him from doing anything that might endanger the colony.

Neatly equipped, the two of them took advantage of the fact that the zombies on the north protective wall had not yet gathered, and the cat's waist quietly bypassed most of the zombies wandering on the road, and walked quickly towards a sparse cedar forest half a kilometer away.

Along the way, the ragged zombies occasionally spot Mosilaire and Winnie, but they are all smashed into a puddle of burnt ooze with a charged rifle before they stagger and try to catch them.

This cedar forest is not too far from the pond where the ducks were caught last time, and it is likely that the people of Rose Mountain are greedy for water convenience, so they chose the temporary camp near this pond.

Before reaching the outskirts of the cedar grove, Mosilaire and Winnie could already see dead zombies scattered across the dirt roads that had been bare by the autumn vegetation—most of them had been shot through their heads with powerful bows, and there were still a few coin-sized chips left on the brains of the arrows that had been removed, and occasionally some of the unlucky ones were covered with holes and eyes, probably stabbed alive with spears by several tribal warriors— If someone is willing to be brave enough to feed these zombies covered in slimy corpse fluid, they may be able to replace the shower to some extent.

As they approached the temporary station of Rose Hill indicated by the leopard, both Mosilaire and Winnie subconsciously slowed their pace to be wary of any wind and grass around them,—— but apart from the occasional chirping of birds and the muffled sound of wind coming from the canopy of tall cedar trees, Mosilaire could barely hear anything else from the silence of the woods. This seems a bit unusual.

"Whew-" A sound similar to the whistle coming from outside the protective wall came from above their heads. When Mosilele looked up with her charged rifle in her hand, the sunlight falling from the treetops, which looked a little shredded by a few dead leaves, suddenly made her eyes a little unable to open her eyes.

She could faintly see figures standing on the branches of the cedar trees around her—if nothing else, the agile figures surrounding Mosilaire and Winnie were their new neighbors, warriors from the Rose Hill tribe.

After Winnie's general explanation, the creatures who walked up and down the trunk reluctantly trusted the two oddly dressed intruders in front of them.

A tribal warrior with a strange and hideous mask clapped his hands, causing his men to put away the wooden arrows attached to their short bows, and then slid lightly down the trunk of the large cedar tree ten meters high.

The thick fallen leaves that covered the ground as he landed did a good job of absorbing too much kinetic energy for him, making his movements look really dashing and free--but looking at the rough bark that shimmered dimly in the sunlight, Winnie, who was standing next to Mosilelle, was almost dumbfounded, and a small doubt rose almost immediately from her heart - wouldn't this guy's hands and feet hurt?

Winnie was a likable but overly outspoken girl, and her curiosity threw the warrior this impolite question—though Mosilaire wanted to know the answer to it, though she was too embarrassed as an adult to ask such an offensive question—and the tribal warrior standing before them spread out his hands and showed them the thick, yellowed calluses on his hands.

The sturdy and hard cocoons made the two girls immediately feel a heartfelt respect for the tribal warriors in front of them—perhaps they were really too happy compared to these tribesmen who slept in the open and were plagued by zombies.

The warrior in front of him waved his hand, signaling Mosilaire and Winnie behind him to follow his pace, while the remaining warriors in charge of the guard quietly blended into the shadow of the cedar trees again, turning into deadly killers and sentinels that roamed the woods.

Mosilaire and Winnie followed in his footsteps for a few more hundred meters through the cedar forest, and finally came to a halt in front of a large natural cave.

The trunks of the caves are also tied to more than a dozen sturdy yaks, whose heavy fur allows them to move freely in the extreme cold, and the fully tamed yaks are docile, providing their keepers with warm fur and fresh milk, and assisting the tribe in carrying large quantities of supplies when necessary.

As a result, these adorable yaks are often the most valuable asset of a tribe, and only a highly respected and experienced animal trainer is qualified to care for them under the authority of the patriarch – and this is often regarded as a privilege and recognition by the trainers.

In addition to the yaks munching on hay, a large area of grass has been fenced off to raise chickens, ducks and other birds.

These captive dumb-headed creatures began to croak at the sight of strangers, flapping their wings and knocking over several basins of water and food, and even when Mosilaire and Winnie were far away, there was still a lot of noisy chickens and dogs jumping in the fence, and it was estimated that they would not be able to stop for a while.

The warrior who led the way waved his hand to the two spear-wielding guards at the entrance of the cave, and Mosilaire and Winnie were able to continue their way and gradually descend into the interior of the cave.

The cave wasn't as humid as Mosilaire had imagined, and the air was filled with the special smell of the light herb boil and vegetable soup that she loved.

It didn't go far before some warm firelight shone out from inside, and large and small bonfires were scattered everywhere like sparks in the huge stone cave that suddenly opened up, illuminating the underground stone cave with a height of nearly ten meters and an area of about half an acre, making the stalactites hanging from the top of the cave shine under a lovely light.

There were still a lot of people sitting around the campfire, but most of them were women and children, and the elderly were rare.

The two strangers following the masked warrior drew some wary glances, but fortunately, nothing happened, and Mosilaire and Winnie eventually managed to make their way through several checkpoints with the help of the masked warrior and meet an elder wearing a lifelike wooden mask of angry face.

The masked warrior who led the way respectfully stepped forward to say something to him, and the elder of special status grabbed the richly decorated scepter in his hand, looked at Mosilaire and Winnie, and finally reached out and took off his mask—surprisingly, the face of a very kind old man under the mask that looked a little frightening in the light of the torches.

His old face, which is no longer young, has been carved with countless wrinkles by the years, but there is infinite wisdom and enthusiasm in the interlaced ravines.

"Hello, my friends." He greeted Mosilele and Winnie in a friendly manner in standard Imperial language, "I'm the patriarch of the Rose Mountain tribe, and you can just call me by my name 'Exploding Sheep' or call me 'Wise' - while that may seem disrespectful to the name my parents gave me, I do prefer the latter, to be honest." ”

Mosilaire was curious as to why this mild-mannered old man had such a good command of the official language of the Empire, but she held back the doubts in her mind and eagerly began a detailed discussion and consultation with Mr. Wise about the transaction.

After exchanging the types and prices of commodities several times, Mosilaire agreed to the Rose Hill tribe's request to exchange 4 hens and 1 rooster for 250 catties of sweet potatoes from her own hands at the value of 50 catties of sweet potatoes per adult chicken, and she also planned to exchange 40 catties of rice from the Rose Hill tribe for 8 catties of bacon that had been dried and could become a delicacy in the right hands—of course, Mr. Wise had no reason to refuse Mosilare's request.

In addition, Mosilaire also exchanged a total of 50 catties of sweet potatoes for 3 catties of coarse salt and some wheat seeds.

In other words, if the first trade between Rose Hill and the fringe colonies went well, the Rose Hill tribes would have enough food to meet their immediate needs, and Mosilaire would trade 300 pounds of sweet potatoes and 40 pounds of rice for four laying hens, a breeding rooster, 8 pounds of bacon with an attractive red color, and a bag of coarse salt and wheat seeds in a leather bag.

It was a very satisfying deal – both for the food-starved Rose Hill tribes and for the fringe colonies, which had a growing demand for non-staple foods.

Especially considering that the potatoes and corn grown in the indoor greenhouses of the marginal colonies will soon be harvested in large quantities, and exchanging the possible surplus of food for healthy chickens is a good deal anyway - because these healthy laying hens can constantly produce nutritious eggs to improve the colony's diet, and hopefully in a few months will further breed more cute, fluffy chicks with artificial intervention - and perhaps when they have a large enough flock, The colonists of the fringe colonies will be able to eat some fragrant chicken from time to time! Just thinking about it is enough to make you faint!

Of course, they'll need to clean up the zombies around the colony a little bit before they can prevent some blind fools from jumping out from behind you with your cargo and startling you out - oh, and maybe they'll bite you if you're not careful—and Mosilare promises it will hurt, because these rude fools don't know what it means to be gentle and polite.

Led by the masked warriors and preparing to return, Mosilaire asked her friends of the Rose Hill tribe to prepare the goods, and she took Winnie's little hand to relax and take a good look at the tribesmen resting in the huge hollow for the first time - according to the patriarch, these long-suffering people of Rose Hill were only more than 200 people left in front of them after a hundred kilometers of travel, and these sparse and sparsely seated women and girls sitting around the campfire with numb expressions were their last and only fire— This is a great sorrow for a thriving tribe that once numbered in the thousands.

The kind-hearted Mosilaire and Winnie only hope that the simple and kind people of Rose Mountain can survive this difficult time and successfully reroot and thrive in the grassland more than 20 kilometers away.