Armored Cavalry, survive in a world full of mods

At the forefront was a tall cavalryman with sharp eyes like a hawk. A thin scar ran from his forehead to his cheek. All the other cavalrymen covered their faces with heavy helmets, but he exposed his face without any hesitation.

The cavalrymen never allowed their warhorses to run wild, maintaining a slow jog pace. However, this pace was not something an ordinary person could keep up with. When chasing fleeing enemies, the cavalrymen would approach them at this slow pace, and then, using the momentum of their horses, they would cut down the fleeing enemies one by one. The experience gained in countless battles made all the cavalrymen genuinely confident that they would win this contest. No matter how good a person was at running, they could not outrun a warhorse, let alone over such a short distance.

Normally burdened with immense weight, the warhorses now only carried the weight of the cavalry, making these agile creatures incredibly active, their pace involuntarily quickening. Their masters repeatedly tightened the reins, maintaining a suitable speed and a disciplined formation. Generally, maintaining this formation was a preparation for a full-scale charge. The horses would gradually increase their speed at a jogging pace until they reached their maximum speed, then charge irresistibly into the enemy ranks. The momentum slowly accumulated during the jog would be unstoppable, and even the hardest spears would break against the warhorses' armor.

They quickly crossed the 32-gallon distance. Almost everyone was extremely confident, believing that it was impossible to reach this speed on foot alone. Those laughable barbarians were probably still trekking through the mountains. When they arrived, they could laugh at them and show them their ridiculousness and incompetence.

The cavalrymen roared into the crossroads and quickly took over the area. After calming their overly excited warhorses, they waited quietly. Apart from the occasional restless struggle of the horses, no one made any unnecessary noise.

Almost everyone was waiting to see the bandits emerge from the mountains, exhausted and disheveled, with the intention of watching them make a fool of themselves. Even the most lenient officers thought that the bandits would only appear when their shadows had moved eight feet, and even then, it would be intermittent. Some were already feeling suspicious; they couldn't afford to waste too much time. Why were they giving these down-on-their-luck bandits such an opportunity? If they didn't come, were the cavalrymen supposed to keep waiting forever? ... But their trust in their general kept them waiting quietly.

When the sound of grass rustling through the blades of grass reached everyone's attention, Akar's face revealed undisguised surprise. They had only been waiting for a short while; the shadows cast by the sun had barely moved. Had those people already arrived? Perhaps he had underestimated them…

A dim-witted wild boar emerged from the mud, its head bowed. Its snout rummaged through the soil, searching for mushrooms or insects. The cavalrymen were so quiet that the boar misjudged the situation and wandered out in a daze.

Akar glanced at Tesolius, and after receiving his general's permission, reached into his saddlebag, took out a javelin, aimed it briefly, and threw it. The sharp javelin pierced the boar's thick hide without resistance, even emerging from the other side, pinning the fat boar to the ground. Before the boar could even let out a few cries of agony, the blood flowing from its throat turned its cries into coughing up bloody froth, and it soon lay still.

Everyone was overjoyed by this unexpected gain. Although they weren't starving yet, the lack of meat was still somewhat unpleasant for these strong cavalrymen. The two men immediately dismounted, dragged the wild boar over, and then swiftly and neatly gutted it with daggers, peeling off the entire thick skin and throwing the inedible parts onto the grass.

The sun continued to move slowly, and time passed second by second. The whole wild boar had been butchered, shaved into pieces, and loaded into the cart. The strong smell of blood still lingered in the air, but the mountain people made no move at all. Even Tesorus was somewhat disappointed, thinking that the people might have escaped or would not be able to catch up.

Just as he shook his head regretfully, about to turn his horse and lead the cavalry away, a commotion suddenly erupted from the jungle. The pitiful cries and panicked squeals of wild boars filled their ears. Before they could react, a large group of dark wild boars charged out of the forest. Every single one was running for their lives.

Meanwhile, a group of mountain people clad in animal skins and carrying longbows were chasing after them with incredible speed. They would stop every now and then to fire an arrow, and a wild boar would inevitably fall to the ground with a mournful cry. Their legs were so agile and powerful that the strong wild boars could never shake off these fierce hunters. One after another, they were shot down by a hail of arrows and turned into a pile of corpses in the blink of an eye.

The hunters cheered and began to butcher their prey with their short knives, skillfully peeling off layer after layer of thick skin to separate the bright red pork and wrap it inside. Then, without hesitation, they slung this strange bundle over their shoulders, removing the inedible entrails and other miscellaneous parts. The large pile of meat was still very heavy, but each of them carried it with incredible speed, rushing into the crossroads in the blink of an eye.

The short-statured Colin was the first to walk to Terthorius's warhorse, then threw the large pile of meat draped over his shoulder onto the ground. The other hunters followed suit, tossing their own wild boar meat onto it. In the blink of an eye, a mountain of meat had formed, and the jungle erupted in noise once more. Women and children emerged from it; everyone had arrived at this moment, not one was left behind…

The smile on Tersolius's lips grew wider. He placed his hands on the saddle and leaned forward slightly.

"So that's why you're late?"

The girl looked embarrassed.

“We didn’t expect there to be such a large herd of pigs there. These guys are starving, and I can’t resist the sight of meat… so we drove the herd all the way here… We were too hungry to cross the mountain before, but we never expected to find so many gifts there…”

The massive black warhorse turned around, its hooves pounding the ground, and then stepped onto the road. The cavalrymen immediately followed, the sound of its hooves pounding the ground as dense as raindrops.

The mountain people stood frozen in panic, thinking they had been abandoned again. Just as Colin was about to say something, Tersolius turned his head:

"Hurry up and catch up. Don't forget to bring the meat. We need to reach the next town tonight."

........................

Overjoyed, the mountain people noisily grabbed their prey and chased after the leading group without hesitation, as if following their leader…

24 Archers (2)

Wild boars look round and plump, but once you peel back their thick skin, you'll find that most of what lies beneath is coarse red meat with very little fat, mostly distributed only in the internal organs. Beneath the tough, thick skin are well-developed muscles from constant running. Moreover, uncastrated wild boars have an extremely strong, foul odor. The hunters who feed on them every day are delighted, but Tersolius keenly notices this strange, foul smell.

If he hadn't eaten pork raised in modern farms, Tersolius might have thought that's what pork tasted like, especially since these guys cooked it so crudely. The mountain people threw away a huge amount of things when they left, but they absolutely couldn't bear to part with those three large iron pots. These three pots were the most precious possessions of their village, which they had traded for 100 of the best wolf pelts and 12 bear pelts. Everyone ate together from this pot, and in the eyes of the mountain people, the pot was a sacred thing. As long as there was a pot, this place could survive.

Now, the rough wild boar meat is being chopped into small pieces with a knife, then thrown directly into a pot with water to stew. A thick layer of snow foam quickly floats to the surface of the soup. Large handfuls of grain are poured in, along with some yellow coarse salt. Once the soup boils, everyone gets a bowl to eat.

This method was far too crude, causing Thesolius to frown. The smell emanating from the pot, while somewhat appetizing, still made him grimace, especially as someone who often cooked. He simply couldn't stand this way of doing things, which was nothing short of a waste of food.

The other cavalrymen were making similar food. They had all undergone years of training, but that training certainly didn't include cooking. So most of them, besides eating dry rations, would just throw everything into a pot and cook it into a porridge. The only lucky thing was that they now had pots and didn't have to sacrifice their helmets anymore.

Everyone ate with great pleasure, except for Tersolius… Although he wouldn’t waste the food, the rough texture and taste still made him feel a little uncomfortable. Colin, who noticed his expression, secretly thought to himself that he was indeed a nobleman. He was still not satisfied with such delicious food. He couldn’t imagine what kind of delicacies he usually ate.

After finishing their meal, they tried to load the remaining prey into the cart, but the mountain people's barrage of arrows had almost wiped out the entire herd. Because they had encountered such a rare stroke of luck, they didn't think too much about it. Now, the pile of wild boar meat was almost a small mountain, and the cart definitely couldn't hold it all. Most of it still had to be carried by each of them on their backs.

According to the normal itinerary, they should have entered an imperial town by now, but one unexpected thing after another happened. The road leading to the town had been buried by mudslides at some point, and the huge piles of mud were like a mountain, making it impossible to force their way across.

Although there was another road, they would not reach an imperial town until the day after tomorrow if they took that road. Although none of them wanted to waste time, they had no choice. After all, they could not abandon their warhorses and walk there. Although they could get there, they would lose their speed, which would be a completely counterproductive act.

So they had no choice but to bypass the pass and take another route. This slowed their progress considerably, and they were forced to camp there, unable to enjoy the city's various services.

Under the dim firelight, the mountain people seemed to be in high spirits. After all, they had eaten their fill twice today, a good thing that might not happen even once a year in the past. So there was no reason for them to be dejected. After eating and drinking their fill, they would find a place to sleep soundly. Although they still maintained their vigilance as mountain people and sent out a few hunters to keep watch around, most of them were extremely lazy. This made Tersolius determined to train these guys properly when he had time.

Although these mountain people are all excellent hunters, capable of shooting leaves from a hundred paces away with their longbows, they are accustomed to the lifestyle of hunters and bandits. They cannot understand what discipline or formation means. If you take them to the battlefield, they will run in a skirmish line. If they encounter a well-trained army, they will only suffer a rout. Of course, with their strong and powerful legs, they can certainly run very fast, and maybe they can save their lives.

But for those who hired them, it was nothing short of a disaster. These guys were fast runners, and Xue could easily run away with his soldiers. So the mountain people hired by the Imperial Army were always placed at the front of the formation, so that they had nowhere to run and could instead be inspired to fight bravely, often achieving good results.

But Tersolius wasn't content with simply using these men as mercenaries. Some excellent archers should be put to good use, not just as a temporary reinforcement before battle; they should be integrated into a true army, disciplined and able to coordinate with other units.

There were no tents, of course. They simply found a wide open space and set up camp there. If they were unlucky enough to encounter rain at this time, they would have to take shelter in the dense forest, and they would have to be on tenterhooks at all times, since they were all wearing heavy metal armor. Fortunately, the sky was still clear, and they could see some starlight and a bright moon. There was no sign of rain.

Even when exhausted, no one dared to neglect their warhorses. Each soldier carried a sack filled with food to replenish the strength of their horses after a long day's work. The massive horses would put their mouths into the sacks, and the crunching sounds of chewing filled the air. Every now and then, a horse would snort loudly and flick its tail to shoo away mosquitoes in the forest.

The mountain people seemed somewhat carefree, or perhaps they had no other desires and were therefore remarkably easygoing. Tessolius, however, was somewhat worried. He felt there was something strange about the mudslide they had encountered that day… or rather, he felt uneasy about the alternative route they were to take, because it all seemed as if someone was deliberately leading them down a different path…

The wood in the campfire burned slowly, making soft crackling sounds. Most people, except for the watchmen, were asleep. Only Tersolius remained seated by the fire, his sharp eyes thoughtful, his fingers lightly tapping the hilt of his sword…

25. Massacre of the village (1)

The needle tip slowly pierced the skin, connecting the torn flesh at a rather ingenious depth and angle. The fine suture quickly stitched up the gruesome wound, ending with a clever technique. What should have been a gruesome wound, resembling a centipede, now looked somewhat aesthetically pleasing. Although it would most likely still leave a gruesome scar, at least it wouldn't worsen.

Looking at his work with some satisfaction, he even couldn't help but tiptoe slightly. The patient in front of him gave him a grateful smile, and the honest, simple farmer thanked him repeatedly, even reaching behind his back—presumably to offer some fruit or dried meat. ...

The cold, metallic scraping sound was like a venomous snake slithering into her ears, spreading down her neck, and gently kissing it, quickly raising goosebumps on her skin.

The honest and simple farmer from just moments ago has now inexplicably transformed into a man with fierce, hawk-like eyes, glaring at him with a menacing glint in his eyes, a sharp dagger clutched in his hand.

"Doctor, you did a great job. I should thank you properly... How about I send you to see Alphas as soon as possible?!"

Before the scream could even escape her lips, a sharp dagger plunged straight into her chest. All her strength, along with her blood, flowed from the wound, and she collapsed to the ground, too weak to even howl or scream. The man, meanwhile, casually wiped his knife clean on his clothes. Outside the window, the deafening roar of burning houses and the screams of villagers filled the air. Iron hooves were relentlessly trampling on the small village... Without any hesitation or mercy, this place would soon become a wasteland.

Overwhelmed by intense fear and grief, she struggled desperately to get up, her mind filled with a bewildered and chaotic mix of emotions. For reasons unknown, the man suddenly crouched down and covered her mouth. Unwilling to die like this, she opened her mouth and bit down hard on his hand, feeling her teeth sink into flesh. At the same time, a short scream rang in her ears as the Primal Spirit Finger suddenly gripped her cheek tightly, the sharp pain making her jump up…

………………

As if poking her head out of the water and blinking her sleepy eyes, Talina looked at the man in front of her with a puzzled expression. This was the man who had secretly returned to see his wife, only to be captured by the cavalry, and now he was looking at her with a nervous expression.

The piercing screams seemed distant, yet they conveyed a palpable sense of despair. Firelight illuminated the view outside the window, and Talina turned her head in disbelief to see the burning village... The screaming villagers were overtaken one by one by the cavalry, their backs pierced by spears, their curved swords easily severing heads from necks. A struggling infant was impaled on a spearhead. The firelight illuminated the cavalryman's distorted face and pointed ears, his eyes gleaming with the aggression and sadistic desire of a wild beast, his teeth seemingly stained with blood.

One torch after another was thrown out by the rapidly running cavalrymen and smashed into the thatched huts, quickly setting the roofs ablaze. Those who couldn't escape screamed in despair, desperately pounding on the doors and windows, only to be driven back by the flames time and time again. Their corpses twisted and contorted rapidly in the fire, their boiling entrails and blood bursting out of their bodies like balloons. The village, which had been peaceful during the day, had become a living hell.

The horrific sight nearly drove Tarina mad. She stared blankly, her mouth agape, unable to utter a word. Her hands and feet grew cold and numb, and she was like a terrified lamb, left only to close her eyes and await her death.

"Tarina! Tarina!! Pack your things quickly, we have to run!!"

A violent shaking brought the terrified girl back to her senses. The man was holding a small bundle of cloth in his arms, inside which was a chubby little face. His face was even stained with large patches of blood, and he was holding a blood-stained machete in his hand. Clearly, his journey here had not been smooth sailing.

"We have to run! These people stormed into the village and started killing people. We don't know where they came from, we just know they're Hols! We have to run! They have no intention of leaving anyone alive... Run..."

The man was clearly flustered, and his words were incoherent. The girl immediately stood up, hung her small bag of materials on the cabinet next to her, hesitated for a moment, then tucked the exquisite short knife into her belt. The two of them squatted down and slowly made their way out the door.

"My woman is waiting for us in the bushes at the village entrance. Be quiet... Once we're inside the woods, we'll be safe..."

The man grabbed a longbow leaning against the door, a quiver of arrows hanging at his waist. A Hols soldier, his head severed, lay in the yard, a mixture of red and white blood flowing from the skull cavity. The pungent stench of blood made the girl frown. She lowered her head, carefully hiding it in the bushes around the house. Never before had Talina been so grateful for the bushes around the house and for her own lazy nature. If she had been more diligent and cleared the bushes, they would now be exposed to these horrific killers.

Everywhere were the cries of the dying and desperate screams. The horrific sound of blades piercing flesh made both men tremble. The child in the man's arms, however, slept soundly. The pitiful cries did not frighten him like other children. He curled up in the swaddling cloth, his breathing even and smooth. This made the man even more careful. If the child were to wake up now, it would cause them a great deal of trouble.

The village where they had lived for so many years had now become a terrifying place of death. Those lying beside the mill, beside the waterwheel, lying on the ground, were all villagers they had lived with day and night, now turned into corpses... Death was like a tiny butterfly, hovering around them, ready to touch their bodies at any moment. Never before had it felt so real and tangible...

There was no time for grief or anger; all they could do now was run away. A strong sense of fear gripped their hearts, and all they could do was run away... escape this place that had become hell.

26. Massacre of the village (2)

The soldiers' laughter, filled with lust and violence, circled overhead like ominous crows, threatening to strike at any moment and bring death upon them. This extreme fear would unleash a person's most primal instincts, driving them to flee or fight for their own survival. Hormones would push every organ in their body to work at full capacity until the body was safe from danger.

Talina felt she had never been so agile. Although she was a physician who traveled frequently, she could never be as nimble as a warrior or hunter. Her heart was pounding so fast, yet at the same time, every extremity of her body was filled with power, like a cunning fox, lightly parting the grass and bushes.

The hunter was even more formidable. He had been roaming this forest for who knows how long, and countless prey had fallen to his arrows. He knew every corner around the village intimately, and even while carrying his own child, he could send his wife out first and then secretly return to rescue the doctor.

Aside from a longbow he made of yew wood, the hunter's only weapon was a machete, not meant for killing. Yet, he calmly used it to cleave open a skull. Now, he still grips the blood-stained machete tightly, calmly clearing away the bushes and obstacles in front of him, trying to make as little noise as possible.

The baby had just finished drinking milk and was sleeping soundly, pressing his little face tightly against the hunter's chest. This made the father even more careful, afraid of waking his child at this most critical moment.

The cloth skirt around her knees was torn by the stubborn gravel and thorns, and her skin was scratched with tiny cuts. Stinging pains kept coming from her palms and knees, but the girl just gritted her teeth and endured it, slowly moving forward, not daring to make any noise that would attract attention.

They moved slowly along the dense thickets of the village. The horrific massacre around them made their hearts pound with each scream. Intense fear clung to them, slowly creeping through their hearts and minds, ready to seize them at any moment.

………………

Both of them stopped, their eyes filled with despair.

Two soldiers wielding spears had somehow appeared at the village entrance. The entire village was now surrounded by three-meter-high wooden stakes. This massive project, undertaken to protect against wild animals from the forest, had been going on for several years, with every man in the village contributing their labor. But now, the towering fence had become a terrifying obstacle preventing their escape…

The only way out was through the village entrance, which was guarded by the enemy, and the two of them were almost at their wits' end.

The hunter's narrow eyes slowly narrowed. He touched his longbow, then gently untied the child from his chest and handed it to the doctor behind him.

"Hold him for me, with my child in tow, I can't draw the bow..."

Drawing three arrows from their quiver, the two soldiers wore gleaming silver chainmail and helmets, their only weakness being their exposed faces... The two men stared impatiently and angrily at the burning village, resentful that they hadn't participated in the looting.

Slowly wedging the arrow fletching into the bowstring, holding one arrow between each of the index and middle fingers, and the middle and ring fingers of the left hand, this allows the hunter to fire three arrows in quick succession… The hunter took a deep breath, slowly narrowed his eyes, and then suddenly stood up!

The two soldiers spotted the suddenly appearing figure immediately, but before they could even open their mouths, a sharp arrow pierced one soldier's face, penetrating deep into his eye socket, spraying blood and knocking him to the ground. The other soldier's open mouth hadn't yet produced a sound when another dark shadow pierced his mouth, continuing until it struck the back of his head and hit his helmet before stopping…

The trembling of the bowstring still lingered in the air. The hunter threw the last arrow into the quiver at his waist, then slung the longbow over his back. Without the slightest hesitation, the two of them quickly passed through the village gate and plunged into the forest outside.

Only on the two corpses lying on the ground, the arrows stuck in them looked like saplings, their feathers fluttering slowly in the breeze, as if they were stretching out their branches and leaves.

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The distant, hollow howl of a wild beast came from afar, and by the time it reached her ears, only the last syllable remained, yet it carried a chilling meaning. The woman shrank back in fear, her back hitting the rough wood.

This is her husband's hunting lodge in the forest. Not only is it situated on high ground, so there's no need to worry about rain, but after digging a pit in the ground, placing a beam on top and covering it with grass, it offers excellent concealment. Not only humans, but even most wild animals can't find it. So as long as she doesn't wander off, she's absolutely safe...

She had just given birth yesterday and was still very weak. It was safe to say that countless creatures in the forest could easily prey on her... Although she was not threatened by wild animals for the time being, the fear in her heart was growing more and more terrifying, almost suffocating the woman.

Just as the woman was suffering, the roof of the hunting lodge was suddenly ripped off. Before she could scream, she saw her husband standing there with a longbow on his back, looking at her.

"Honey, I've picked up the doctor, hurry! We need to get out of here..."

Before the woman's smile could even fully form, it turned into utter terror... A sharp arrow suddenly flew from the side, piercing her husband's neck and leaving a bloody arrowhead on the other side...

The hunter's eyes suddenly became dazed and blank. Before he could understand what was happening, he collapsed to the ground. Red, frothy fluid flowed from his mouth, seeping into the roof of the hunting hut and dripping down to the woman's feet...

The woman, her mouth agape but unable to utter a sound, stood frozen in place. In the distance, the sound of horses' hooves began to echo, and the crimson flames illuminated the surrounding bushes. The angry shouts and savage laughter of the soldiers could be heard.

A slender hand reached in from the side, grabbed the woman's collar, and pulled her out. Tarina, her face ashen, glanced at the dead hunter, gritted her teeth, and then, without hesitation, grabbed the woman's hand, clutching the child in her arms, and desperately fled into the depths of the forest…

Only the longbow made of yew wood lay quietly in the blood, keeping company with its master, whose body was beginning to grow cold...

27 Night Escape (1)

Can a human outrun a warhorse? This is undoubtedly a pointless question. Warhorses, with their long and agile limbs, can gallop at incredible speeds on the road. Humans, with only two legs, cannot match these incredibly fast creatures. They would be easily caught up by the cavalrymen controlling the warhorses and then killed on the spot by weapons swung down and thrust from behind.

The most devastating casualties in a major battle often come from these fleeing soldiers being pursued by cavalry.

Moreover, the fugitives being hunted are not strong soldiers, but just an ordinary doctor and a woman too weak to run fast after childbirth.

From any perspective, this was a hunt with no suspense whatsoever. The cavalry's nimble warhorses would catch up with these two defenseless women in the blink of an eye... What would happen afterward was too painful to describe.

At least that was the case for these Holsian cavalrymen. What they thought would be a lighthearted and enjoyable pastime turned into a series of casualties. After slaughtering the last roaming chicken in the village, they took all the loot they had plundered and then found the sentry dead at the village entrance and the unfortunate man whose head had been chopped off.

A sense of rage spread through everyone, especially their commander, the young lord of Kas from Roldor. This ambitious young nobleman would not tolerate a bunch of commoners daring to challenge his authority, so he drove his elite cavalry to hunt down the audacious attackers.

The elite scouts quickly noticed the unusual footprints in the jungle, and then the entire cavalry squad quickly gave chase. This minor nobleman, though reckless and cruel, possessed excellent archery skills and shot down one man with a single arrow from afar. Meanwhile, two slender black figures disappeared into the jungle in the night.

The cavalrymen were all laughing heartily; all their anger had turned into extreme excitement, and it seemed that another interesting game awaited them.

Some were betting with each other to see who could capture the escaped commoners first, using their spoils as stakes. Bloodthirsty, excited eyes emanated from their helmets, and sharp spears and long, curved swords thirsted for blood.

With a whoosh, the cavalry scattered and disappeared into the dense forest. For them, this was the time to indulge in revelry... such opportunities were rare indeed.

The looted coins jingled in their saddlebags, weapons stained with the blood of their victims gleamed with an eerie, distorted luster in the moonlight, and silver chainmail was soaked through with blood. The killers moved through the night, searching for their next victim…

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A series of sharp pains were shooting through my chest. My lungs were already overburdened and were desperately trying to report their suffering to my body. But my body was sending me the order to keep working without reservation, completely ignoring the terrible pain. Even though my legs were numb and aching, even though my lungs felt like they were about to explode, I absolutely could not stop, I absolutely dared not stop!

The faint sound of horses' hooves seemed to echo endlessly through the jungle. Faint and indistinct, near and far, yet never truly disappearing. It foreshadowed the ever-present presence of those dreadful hunters, their hounds tearing at their hearts with fear.

Only the young child, the soft and tender child, was still fast asleep, not because he had become so sleepy, but because Tarina had used a little mild herbal medicine that could calm the mind and induce sleep, and she only dared to use a few drops of the juice.

They had no chance of taking any risks. If the child suddenly started crying, all three of them would face the most tragic fate. So, despite the risks, the two of them resolutely used the herbs to put the child into a deeper sleep.

The mother no longer had the strength to hold her child, so the tiny baby was now tied to Tarina's chest with a long cloth. Perhaps her rather large and soft breasts played a role in keeping the child so quiet. Tarina's hand remained firmly in her mother's long, cold hand, transmitting strength to her with her warm palm.

Her only advantage was her familiarity with the forest, where, under her teacher's guidance, she had collected fresh herbs of all kinds, packing the spicy, bitter, and fragrant plants and fungi into her small satchel.

Sometimes, in order to pick a fresh pine needle, she has to climb high cliffs and then use a rope to secure herself to a solid rock.

Her footprints can be found in every corner of this forest. She knows every tree, every stone, every gentle slope and cave. She knows where there are dangerous wild animals, where there are rugged rocks, and where there are cliffs that are absolutely impossible to climb.