"Quiet."

Koop heard Kraft give such an order, different from his usual negotiating attitude, like a sword blade he had never seen before, straightforward and hard, and a tough tone that had only been heard briefly in the Salt Tide District.

He instinctively chose to comply, shut up and look at the footsteps of William at the head of the team, adjusting the cadence. The consequences of discounting Kraft's serious demands have already been seen, and the lesson is so profound that there will not be a second time in this life.

Following Kraft's example, Koop looked back quickly, and at a glance he saw only the flickering torches of light, reflecting the indistinct face of the bearer, and the darkness followed his way, keeping no more, no less than five paces away.

Behind the thick night like the tide of the salt tide area, the turbid and opaque fluid buries sharp shellfish fragments and marine fish bone spurs in dark places beyond the reach of the eye, and those who walk in them will step on them, and after a few days, the wounds will festering and suppurating, and the whole body will become feverish.

This was Koop's deepest fear before that experience, and he couldn't figure out how a small wound cut in the turbidity current could be fatal.

Connecting the two, he noticed a striking consistency, the team was in the middle of a larger, turbid current, and had no idea what was outside the two torches.

The tired hills were the same as the ground near his house, swallowed by the darkness that filled the void in the sea or from the sky, and completed the transformation from familiarity to ignorance.

There are changes happening in it, but not as simple as a fragment that will suppurate the wound.

The pace in front of him alternated between fast and slow twice, deliberately staggering William's rhythm, and Kraft turned his head again, his gaze back over his shoulder, the faint light of fire reflected in his eyes.

The arm that swings with the walk stops and presses it on the left side of the waist, and after receiving training, Koop knows the meaning of this movement, and is repeatedly lifted out for emphasis.

Pressing against his waist, the sturdy handle of the hammer gave him a little comfort, and he kind of understood why Kraft liked it.

Glancing back to Coop, Kraft nodded to him slightly, sped up and walked forward, tapping William on the shoulder. The sailors looked at Koop and silently lit a new torch.

The team returned to their original pace, and Kraft retreated to his side, one hand always on his waist, the other pressed on the side of his skull, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Be quiet, well, be quiet...... Koop gritted his teeth, and Kraft's actions confirmed his thoughts, but he couldn't ask for orders.

The rising thought had reached his lips and was pushed back by the living, but in the monotonous rush, only the route that sometimes turned and the footsteps in his ears were noteworthy, and he could not help but listen.

Led by William, the team maintained a slow, rhythmic forward tone, and everyone unconsciously followed the steps of the previous one.

The sound of feet falling on the ground came from both sides, merging into the ear canal, and also sandwiched into the sound of horses' hooves.

But Kraft did change his pace, as if to force someone to walk with them.

Is it true that a person walks on a mountain road without lighting? A local who knows the road may be something else......

His insight does not provide an alternative for the time being, and he will choose to walk in tandem with them. On the other hand, he had never seen anyone who could walk blindly on a mountain path from memory in the dark of night, and Peter the guide could not do it.

Koop slowed down, trying to distinguish the sound of their footsteps as he approached the three at the end of the line.

The people who live on the deck are steady, and their legs, which can hold their bodies on the crests, are not bad on the trails, and the thick linen woven soles of the three are much the same, which is not difficult to distinguish from the heavy stomping of the Kraft boots in front of them.

He was a little surprised to accomplish his goal so quickly, but it didn't help, and Koop didn't hear the unusual footsteps coming from behind.

He let go of the handle of the hammer and looked at Kraft suspiciously. The latter did not look back, his knuckles bent against the back of his lateral canthus, as if he had a sudden and unbearable headache, but his eyes were fixed on the unilluminated path on William's side.

The foot in his leather boots stumbled on a stone and staggered a few steps, a dangerous gesture that frightened Koop to help him, but the horse held him back.

A tingling and rough friction sensation came from the palm of his hand, and the rope holding the horse was suddenly tightened, and he almost came out of his hand. The mule neighed and raised its front hooves in an attempt to turn back, but the sudden burst of force caught Koop off guard and dragged him away.

"Let go!"

Koop subconsciously let go of the rope, and then realized that he was not talking about himself, but Yvonne who was holding the horse's neck in the saddle and the whole person was turned upside down.

The mule and horse seemed to be frightened by an unknown source, forgetting the rider and the dangers of the mountain road on their backs, and ran backwards, aimlessly. The crew on the route tried to avoid the side of the mountain to avoid crashing into the Crazy Horse head-on.

Coop was still struggling with whether to grab the rope or protect himself, the crew did not have the courage to stop the cattle that were far more powerful than humans, and were about to miss the horse's start, when a figure had already passed by, and the wind carried it with it stirred the burqa, lifted the hood, and the blond hair flew in a mess.

The white bright arc reflection caught up with the hind legs of the galloping horse, cut into the most developed muscles, and interrupted the force, and the painful legs could not exert force, the speed slowed down, and the body tilted to the same side.

"Hold your head, Yvonne!"

Needless to say, Yvonne consciously let go of his head when the horse toppled over, curled up and was thrown out. This action probably saved her life, and instead of landing under the horse's hooves and being trampled on, she rolled into a bush by the side of the road.

The castrated mules and horses rushed out a few steps, struggling into the night outside the torches, and then the weight rolled off, the gravel scraped the fur, and several swift downward impacts muffled, and the tiny echo came a few seconds later, like a faint swallowing sound.

Kraft pulled back his bleeding sword and cut through the bushes to check on Yvonne, and William turned back from the head of the group, torch to light him.

"William, go back, come at the end of the line." Kraftra opened her cloak to check on Yvonne's injuries, but fortunately the bushes behind her were still lush, and most of her strength had been removed at the cost of broken stems and leaves, and only a few more abrasions were on her bare hands.

The little one got up from the ground with the help of Kraft's hand, a few leaves on the tips of his hair, and his cloak was torn in the broken branches, but the man seemed fine.

Kraft showed no signs of relaxing, and frequently turned his head to Willian between inspections, urging him to return to the top of the team.

Due to William's arrival in the middle of the procession, Peter, who was originally parallel to him, had already fallen to the edge of the torch aperture, and he did not accept the fact that his important property had fallen off the cliff like crazy, thinking about whether this would be considered a reimbursement.

Frightened, the horses did not pay attention to their master, but turned their backs on him.

Coop suddenly thought about why he couldn't find the problem at the end of the team. As everyone cared about Yvonne, he followed Kraft's gaze.

The darkness behind the guide didn't seem to be pure, like ink on the table that had been left open overnight, falling into the dust of flying insects, and there was something floating in the uniform background.

With blind vision in the middle of the night, I can barely see the vague image of a floating scoop, shoulder-high outside the aperture, appearing in the darkness for a moment, and then sinking into the unfathomable inky night.

A quick glance, like a person walking backwards in front of him, noticed that they were no longer following, and poked out his wide flat face and peeked into the aperture.

There was no sense of being watched, and in the blink of an eye Koop lost his impression of it, and everything was normal behind Peter, all he saw was a vision in the bad light, a starless face.

(End of chapter)