The journey was a blur of calculated survival. He rested during the day, drank conservatively, and at night, he wore his gas mask, hiding in the tall, sharp silver grass to wait out the Bleeding Hour.
He was lucky, no Zhenren came to him.
But the image of the hanged man and the fresh graves haunted his dreams.
Then came the night of the wolf.
He was shivering in a dense thicket of silver grass, the red mist pressing down on him.
A low growl vibrating through the ground woke him. Through the mist, a pair of glowing, sickly-yellow eyes appeared. It was a Zhenren,a wolf-like abomination, its fur matted with black sludge.
It was not too far off, its head tilting as it scented the air. Ryckel didn't breathe. He tried to stabilize his stammering heart.
He held the dagger, debating whether to run or fight. If he ran, it would be faster. If he fought, he might make enough noise to draw more.
The creature took a step closer, its snout quivering. It was looking right at him.
Suddenly, a distant scream echoed through the woods.
The wolf's ears swiveled. With a low hiss, it turned and bolted toward the sound, leaving Ryckel shaking in the dirt, gasping for air.
***
Ryckel continued on and then he finally saw the walls of Lilliebore, he almost wept with relief.
He checked the map. Lilliebore was walled and had a moat, just like this town. He began to sprint, wanting to shed his muddy sandals and bask in the safety of a community.
But I would miss the free living under the stars…
He somehow felt melancholic.
He sighed and got closer, looking at the crude tall, wide huts that were made of both wood and clay. They were littered around outside the main gate.
The air smelled of rot and shit. He saw colored stains painted the ground near the houses.
A putrid stench hit him as he approached the moat. The water was a toxic sludge of discolored filth.
People dressed in black garments were trying to clean it with sticks, wearing cloths over their noses. Another group was dragging a cart full of shit and piss toward the moat, ready to dump it.
"Hey! We're cleaning this!" one of the cleaners yelled. "Nightsoil men work at night!"
"I know. But I have a damn sick son," one of the men with the cart pleaded. "It hasn't been easy since the Weeding took my wife. I need this."
Huh… what's the Weeding?
No. I need to get in first.
The cleaners sighed and told the nightsoil men to go to the pits the far off and burn the waste.
Ryckel crossed the bridge to the main gate. Two Hussars, dressed in light, more breathable leather armor than the ones he saw at his town were drinking what could only be rice wine.
One of them looked at Ryckel, hiccuping.
"What do you want, kid?"
"I want to enter Lilliebore," Ryckel said, keeping his voice flat.
"Pay the fee."
Ryckel grit his teeth.
There's a fee?
He thought about knocking them out, but he looked at the gate, then at his own tattered clothes.
Trouble brings unwanted attention.
"How much?" He asked.
"One Barca."
Ryckel felt a cold sweat.
That's all I have.
The Hussars didn't look like they'd pity him even if he told them. So having no choice, he reached into his satchel and handed over the shards tied to a rope.
The Hussar chuckled, opening the gate. "Pleasure doing business." They both cleared the way.
Ryckel walked into the town, the heavy wooden gates closing behind him. He was inside, but he was alone, hungry, and penniless.
I need a job. And I need it now.
---The End of Chapter 20---