Deep within the forest, the pale ground dragged the weak footsteps of the travelers.
Thud.
Someone suddenly collapsed face-first into the snow and remained still.
The leading old hunter turned back to look. He couldn't see the face of the deceased, only the purple-black frostbites covering the exposed skin.
"Let's rest for a moment." he said calmly, "Lin, take out the last of the charcoal."
The emaciated people sat down together in a circle.
The black-haired girl named Lin took out charcoal from her bundle, looking at the old hunter.
"Father, Warner is dead too. Last night he tried to snatch the charcoal, and in panic, I pushed him."
Lin murmured, "He fell into the swamp, injured his leg, and then cursed while ending his own life with a rock."
"Hmm."
The old hunter only responded faintly.
Even upon hearing of death, people remained unmoved, their expressions reduced to deadening numbness.
The old hunter fiddled with the last fuel, his gaze darkened.
