✓ Operating log of the Tavern of the Dead

73

Northland.

Polar Winter Ridge.

Little Amy was leaning against the wall, holding her short bow in her hand.

The crackling of the fire in front of you brings a little warmth to talk about in this cold season. Tables, chairs, cupboards, and all the firewood she could find were burned, and little Amy looked out the window at the white sky, still feeling a deep fear of the coming night.

The weather in both years was not very good.

Last year's ice melted too late, and this year's snow fell too early, so the deer stayed nearby for a short time before hurrying off to a place where food was more abundant.

For hunters in the North who live by hunting, this is destined to be a long and difficult winter. But it's not just the hunters who are starving.

- Wolves.

The wolves that live here share a hunting ground with humans, hunting deer in the summer and autumn, stockpiling enough energy to raise their young, and chasing snow hares and forest rats at other times. But last year, there was so little prey.

The wolves were hungry, searching for all the prey they could move, and after a late-night blizzard, they visited the human village next to the woodland.

The blizzard crushed many of the houses in the village, and while the villagers were busy repairing them, the wolves came.

Every hunter in the North knows how terrible wolves are in late spring and early summer, and they even dare to bite the Horned Ox on their own, which is several times their size. This time, however, their craving for food prevailed over their instinctive fear of fire and arrows.

At dawn, the hunters finally drove away the wolves, but at the same cost.

It was the hardest night of little Amy's short life, and they hid in the strongest room, outside where the howls of wolves and the screams of the elders were fierce. She wanted to pick up the bow and rush out, but her trembling legs could not exert half of her strength, so she could only be held tightly in her arms by her mother, who covered her ears as if this would insulate her from the calamity outside.

Little Amy closed her eyes tightly, but she still heard the crying, her brother, the little sister next door, and the twin brother across the door, and some indistinguishable sobs. Suddenly, a hot liquid fell on the back of her hand, and the little girl looked up, and she saw her mother crying silently.

"Don't be afraid." Mother comforted her softly, "It would be good if it was dawn, it would be almost dawn—"

The little girl wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and noticed that she was also crying at some point.

By daybreak, the wolves had temporarily retreated, but the situation was not "good".

The incessant howl of wolves around them told everyone that the beasts were not gone, and that they were bound to get the food. In fact, just before noon, the wolves came again, and Uncle Sam lost an arm in the attack.

The room smelled of blood, and Amy saw her aunt add a large handful of firewood to the fire. The fire is already burning louder than the bonfire during the New Year, and you can even feel a wave of heat when you sit by the fire.

But little Amy still felt cold.

It was getting dark, and the wolf's howl was getting faster and closer.

The little girl held her short bow, her nails even digging into her palms, and she stared out the window at the thinning sun, trembling with nervousness and fear.