The Star Grace Hunt and a Secret Departure

Two days later…

“South Creek, while I’m away, you must stay home, understand?”

“Understood!”

Adhering to ancient tradition, on the third day of the Starfall Festival, the village was poised to host a grand hunting expedition. On this crisp, cool morning, nearly every able-bodied young man in the village had gathered in the square, equipped with hunting tools such as rifles or bows, ready for departure.

Riding at the forefront, as leaders, were the village chief, several seasoned elder hunters, and Elise, the village priestess. Traditionally, women were forbidden from participating in these hunting activities; however, given the potential for injuries during the expedition, there was unanimous agreement to allow Elise to accompany them.

Elise, today, had foregone her usual long priestess robes, opting instead for practical athletic wear. Her light, form-fitting top accentuated her alluring feminine curves, while her legs, clad in trousers, appeared perfectly proportioned and graceful. This, combined with her already beautiful face, left the men of the village utterly transfixed. It was only at this moment that most of them realized their usually dignified priestess was also a stunning beauty.

“Sister Elise, may I also sit on that horse?”

“Of course you may. Come, be careful, I’ll help you up.”

Although she had been assigned a horse due to her esteemed position as the village priestess, Elise’s seasoned horsemanship still drew admiring glances from the men. It was indeed difficult to imagine a woman possessing such skillful riding technique; under her command, the horse seemed to shed its usual spirited nature, submitting docilely to her every instruction.

South Creek, having never experienced the sensation of riding a horse, naturally could not contain her excitement, eager to feel the thrill of galloping through the wind. Yet, after circling the square a few times, the jarring motion proved too much, and she quickly conceded defeat, sheepishly dismounting.

“Everyone, remember to keep your maps close; getting lost in the forest is an exceedingly dangerous affair.”

Holding a map covered in intricate curves, the village chief loudly addressed the crowd. This year, their hunting grounds would be the vast forest north of the village. Preliminary scouting had revealed that this particular area was sparse in dangerous beasts, predominantly inhabited by gentle herbivores, making it an ideal location for their hunt.

This grand hunt was destined to last an entire day, departing in the morning and returning by evening. Within this single day, these sturdy men were tasked with securing enough meat to sustain the village through the entire winter. While undoubtedly an arduous undertaking, for this village, it represented the crucial means of survival for its inhabitants throughout the cold season.

Around the square, women, elders, and children, unable to participate in the hunt, bid farewell to their husbands, sons, and fathers. For this village, the hunt was more than a mere activity for sustenance; it was a sacred ritual. The men who had toiled in the fields all year would, through sweat and blood, rekindle a forgotten ferocity, while the newly adult youths would come to intimately understand the untamed strength possessed by their elders.

Before long, the send-off ceremony commenced. Countless large drums were arranged in a corner of the square, and several sturdy men rushed forward, seizing drumsticks and vigorously beating the drumheads, following an ancient rhythm. Other men produced flutes or pulled out small waist drums, joining in the performance. Those without instruments lifted their voices in song. The collective sound of the people converged, intertwining and echoing. The raw, passionate folk melodies, like wind and fire, swiftly permeated the entire village, their reverberations faintly audible even on distant hilltops.

Of course, not everyone appreciated such mountain songs. South Creek, utterly baffled by this world’s musical aesthetic, desperately clapped her hands over her ears, fearing the music would overwhelm her mind. However, the sheer power of a several-hundred-person chorus was not something she could easily block out. Even with her ears tightly covered, the music mercilessly breached her defenses, storming through her head and leaving her feeling disoriented.

“Come, my robust children, raise your weapons! The hunt begins!”

As the singing reached its crescendo, and with a furious roar from the village chief, the contingent of several hundred surged forward with a formidable roar, advancing into the forest.

“Be a good girl, South Creek!”

“I knowww—”

Surging out with the main contingent, Elise, still mounted, did not forget to caution South-Creek. Upon receiving her reply, she spurred her horse, accelerating to the front of the procession, and gradually vanished from South Creek’s sight.

“Travel safely.”

Offering a silent blessing in the direction they departed, South Creek stood rooted for a moment before promptly dashing towards her home.

Sure enough, Jack and Fanny were waiting for her at the church entrance.

“Hurry, hurry, or we’ll be too late.”

“Are you sure we can be back before evening?”

“If we walk fast, we can. Vaseline City isn’t far from our village; just keep heading east, and we’ll reach it in under two hours.”

Rushing frantically into her house, South Creek rummaged through a storage cabinet until she finally unearthed the crucial item, promptly tucking it into her pocket. She then stood by the window, waving to the two outside, gesturing for them to take the small path behind the church.

“What did you two tell your parents? If they grow suspicious, everything will be ruined.”

“I told Mom I was going fishing with you in the southern pond today, and she didn’t suspect a thing.”

“I told him I was going to help in the orchard, just as usual.”

Chatting quietly, the trio cautiously avoided the villagers’ gazes, sneaking towards the eastern gate of the village. Before long, they slipped out unnoticed.

“Let me see. Next, we need to follow that road—yes, the one paved with flagstones.”

“Wow, I don’t even know how long it’s been since I left here. What’s it like outside the village?”

“No difference, it’s all the same.”

Compared to Fanny’s boundless excitement, Jack appeared considerably calmer, though a glimmer of barely concealed thrill still danced in his eyes.

As the leader of their small group, South Creek had no time for excitement. She was busy deciphering the markings on the map—a map of unknown age, which she had stumbled upon while tidying up. It detailed the terrain around the village for several thousand Yichi, and it had taken her a considerable amount of time to even begin to understand its symbols.

The trio embarked upon the flagstone path, their footsteps often producing squelching sounds from compressed mud, indicating this was clearly a little-used trail. The damp morning air carried the scent of earth and plants. Thus, their small adventure, belonging to just the three of them, began.