Immediately after this resounding dinner, Riga collapsed into the warm, spacious, and secluded cave and began to sleep. With the exception of the warriors who needed to keep vigil, the rest of the Quaid quickly closed their eyes.

It wasn't until the first rays of sunlight came out of the sky the next morning that the Quid sentinels in the cave realized that the blizzard had long since stopped. At this time, the ice field was as silent as death, and it was also filled with an astonishing cold. This situation was not alleviated until the scorching sun Estel had completely risen from the sky. When animal sightings began to appear in the forest, the third wave of Quaid warriors had begun to lightly boil hot water. Riga was also woken up by a gentle kick at this time.

Rubbing his confused eyes with his right hand, Riga didn't care about the smell of the fur under his body due to moisture, and wiped his slender beard soaked with saliva on it. "Bastard, don't bother me. The hunter snorted vaguely through his nose.

"Hey, hey, hey. He was greeted with a low chuckle. Just as Riga had a bad premonition, a cold hand jerked into his neck. The intense stimulation dispelled Riga's drowsiness, but he immediately stretched out his arm like lightning. He gripped Garr's wrist with his broad, powerful palm, and with a little force, Gar lay down on the cold rock with a scream.

"You prankster. Riga rolled over and rode on Gar's back, holding his hands under control, "I'm going to beat you up today to look like a fat pig." The hunter laughed and threw his fist, but was caught by a wider, rougher palm.

The chief did not know when he appeared behind the two young men. There was no expression on his rock-like face, but Riga could be sure that Spain must have regained his strength. "Take a break, boys. Even if you are now energetic like a male wolf in heat, the rest of the trip will tire you out like a dirt dog with a tongue sticking out. Divine eyes glanced at the two young men, and the chief let go of the palm that bound Riga and joked softly.

The playful words made several of the old soldiers around him laugh. Cotton, who was injured but still in good spirits, couldn't help but twitch and laugh a few times, although the old soldier quickly paid the price. "Two little bastards. Because his body shook and touched the wound, he immediately grinned at Riga and Gal and scolded, "Come and pack your things yet, we're about to leave." ”

After simply drinking some clean hot spring water scooped up from the water tank, and eating some of the dried meat that was still as hard and tasteless as a stone when it was roasted, the Quaid people immediately set out on their way home.

The windless and sunny weather made the journey as relaxing as patrolling the camp, and after a night of calm, the Quaid warriors finally put aside the grief of their comrade's death for a while. After all, death is not the end for the Quaid who have faith. In the descriptions of the messengers of the gods, the great and mysterious wizards, the 'Fury' is also the god of madness. He would select devout believers from among the dead warriors and make them divine servants who dwelled in the divine realm. And the most devout of them were able to dwell in front of the magnificent temple, enjoy endless glory, train and fight during the day, and gather together to drink wine at night.

This time, the chieftain, who had regained his combat strength, was back at the front of the group. Sparrow's great power kept all the beasts aside, and the Quaid warriors returned to the tribe before they fell. Seeing that the halo formed by the silver moon Ruoreas had appeared in the sky, the tall walls of the tribal camp finally stood in everyone's field of vision.

"Woo-woo!" sounded like a strong wind blowing across the bare rocky hillside, and three melodious horns sounded in the camp in succession. It was the watchman on the watchtower who was informing the people in the camp that the warriors they had been concerned about had returned.

Crowds of children immediately poured into the camp gates from the streets, mostly dressed in shabby fur coats, and their slightly rough-skinned little faces plastered with all sorts of mud from play. Likewise women in fur coats came out of their houses and stood in the doorway, their minds filled with strange thoughts about whether their husbands were hurt or whether they had returned. The female surnames of the Quaid are completely different from those of other ethnic groups, and they also like to drink and fight. They hated the smock that confined them to movement, and they liked the short, well-fitting garments. Moreover, these adult female surnames who have received combat training since childhood are qualified soldiers when they take up arms.

Even the wizard was startled and trembled out of the hut. He still wore the gray fur cloak, and the smell of bitter herbs and greasy sleeves made the Quaids who wanted to kiss his bone staff and pray to the gods want to give up their plans.

"Thank you, O Almighty God, for your protection. As the chief led the warriors through the wooden gate, the wizard immediately coughed vigorously and shuddered. The wizard apprentice in a long black fur cloak immediately walked briskly into the cabin, and after two breaths, he walked out with a steaming horn cup.

When the cup was held in the wizard's hand, the warrior next to him immediately took two steps back. Because they saw that there was a green liquid with a bitter taste. The wizard put the rim of the cup to his lips, shriveled on his cheeks, and slowly but surely swallowed the green potion. Then he stiffened his steps forward, his eyes swept over the faces of one warrior after another, and finally focused his attention on the large sleds pulled by the dwarf. The corpses of the Quaid warriors, even if they were covered in fur, could not stop the smell of death and decay.

"God bless, may you be able to drink and fight in the temple with joy. The sorcerer trembled and touched the body of the dead warrior with his hand through the fur, and prayed solemnly. The tip of the bone's gray joints and the bones of the unknown beast glowed faintly during the wizard's prayers, causing the surrounding Quaid people to kneel and pray.

In fact, the prayers of the shamans ended very quickly. After thanking the gods for their protection, the warriors went to their families and stood with them, comforting them. The Quaid who had lost their families also came out strong, carrying the corpses back to their corners with expressionless faces. The Quaid customs made them not weep at death, because it was a cowardly act that was despised.

When the crowd thought it was all over, the chief took the blackened armbands from his bosom. He touched the missing part of his beard, his eyes were red, and he said incoherently with excitement: "My people, there are very few warriors who have passed the coming-of-age ceremony this year. Some suspect that this is a punishment from the gods, and others suspect that it is a monster that has migrated from the depths of the ice field, but we have found out why! It is because the brave lads have been captured! In the camp of orcs and Terran mercenaries, we found several charred corpses. On that charcoal-shattered corpse were the armbands of our tribes, and those hateful aliens had captured our people and burned them alive!"

The Quaids who lost their children in the rite of passage were angry, the Quaids who lost their husbands in this battle were angry, but the most angry were the shamans. He also thought that the chieftain had cut off his beard because of the sheer number of warriors who had died in the battle, but he was also shocked by the fact that the chief had said. Terran mercenaries dared to capture the young warriors of the Quid in winter.

"Despicable blasphemer!" the sorcerer's mouth uttered a loud voice that was extremely unworthy of his body, and the bone staff in his hand swung as forcefully as a sword. "The treacherous Terrans, the great Quid will never be conquered! Even the army that swept across the continent to the Santa Marta Empire has succumbed to the warriors of our race, how dare those mercenaries come to capture our people! Blasphemy the dignity of the gods!"

"The remnants of the mercenaries and orcs have taken refuge in the hunting grounds of other tribes, and I think we should mobilize them to take revenge on the Terrans!" interjected Brownbeard Warrior Cotton, who was well aware of the cunning of those humans as a guide for Terran mercenaries.

"No!" the chief replied with a hard attitude, "we shouldn't go to the other tribes, we'll take care of our own affairs alone!" For a chieftain to turn to other tribes for help is a sign of his own incompetence and weakness.

"Now that we know where these Terrans come from, it won't be too difficult to catch them. The chief reached out and pulled out a half-fur piece of leather armor from the package behind his back, and then pointed to the black tomahawk sign, "They are from the Duchy of Moulton, so these mercenaries will definitely return from the geographical boundary between Moulton and our people." ”

The chief's confidence made the wizard nod his head with some convincing and some skepticism, but his actions were in the eyes of the Quaid in support of Sparrow. The chief immediately took a few powerful warriors to the tavern to discuss the next steps of the tribe, and at the same time gave Riga and them a chance to finally go home and rest.

"Daddy Thorne!" Riga snorted in joy when he saw the crumpled old face and the slender pipe he never left his mouth, and rushed to the smiling old man with his package on his back. It was only in front of him that Riga would make such a gesture like a child.

"Let's go back. Different from the previous stern attitude, the old soldier said softly. Shocked by this attitude, Rriga touched the back of her head with some confusion before following Thorne back to the cabin where she lived.

As soon as he entered the cabin, he felt the warmth and heat rushing to his face. Although it was sunny and windless outside, the temperature was still cold and he couldn't stand it. Throwing the package in the doorway, removing the tomahawk he was carrying and hanging it on the wall, Riga suddenly looked up at the roof. The huge snow ape skin was still open and propped up there, adding a faint fishy smell to the room.

"It's going to take a while for that fur to be tanned, and winter is a problem. A large chunk of hard raw meat was taken out of a large wooden vat, and Father Thorne chopped off a corner with a small axe. "Riga, hang the soup pot up. The old soldier shouted at the top of his lungs, and then began to chop up the 'small' piece of raw meat. "It's still comfortable to drink a pot of hot soup when you come back from outside. I think when I was younger, all I looked forward to most was to have a bowl of soup when I came back from the hunt. ”

Regardless of the chatter in Daddy Thorne's mouth, Riga hung the bronze soup pot on the fire, and then walked over and took the small axe from the old soldier's hand, "I'll get it, I want to die of the taste of the soup now." ”

Just as the grandfather and grandson were still discussing the issue of making soup, the fur curtain of the house was lifted, and two burly figures stepped in from the outside. "Riga?" the questioning words were filled with a cold that could condense boiling water.