The girls drank to their heart’s content, as if they hadn’t seen water in days, then filled their old blackened bamboo flask to the brim. Xue rinsed the wound on her leg. While she rested, Mingzhu washed the dirt off the edible roots she had dug up, rinsed the mushrooms, and together they ate a little to ease their hunger. The russulas turned out to be quite good, tender and juicy.
After their meal, Mingzhu found a long, sturdy branch and fashioned a walking stick for her sister to lean on. Unhurriedly, they both returned to the rocky slope where, three meters above the ground, there was a hollow in the stone, as if carved on purpose for travelers to take shelter from the rain. The refuge was a small cave, no wider than four paces and about as deep, yet enough to keep them dry during a downpour.
While Xue caught her breath at the base of the rock, Mingzhu, using her dagger, cut a large bundle of grass and carried it up into the shelter. From experience she knew how hard it was to sleep on bare stone, and she wouldn’t let her sister suffer. Nimble as a little monkey, she climbed the almost vertical wall with surprising ease. Once the bed of grass was thick enough, she helped her sister climb into the hollow.
Night was quickly falling over the forest. In the distance, the howls of wild beasts echoed, the hunters of the dark. Every so often, a bird would cry out, as if calling the predators closer. Sitting at the edge of the cave, legs dangling, Mingzhu sharpened one end of the staff, turning it into a makeshift spear. She didn’t have the courage to fight a wild beast at close range, but jabbing it with a sharp stick if it came too close was another matter.
Darkness deepened, swallowing the shapes of the trees. Yet the forest seemed alive: rustling leaves, brushing grass, the flutter of wings, and the sharp cries of unseen creatures made her flinch. Mingzhu crawled deeper into the cave and embraced her sister. Xue was still burning with fever; her closed eyelids trembled, and beads of sweat rolled down her forehead. The little girl stroked her sister’s head gently, as if to lull her to sleep.
After a while, beneath the cave, came the crack of breaking branches and a loud snorting. The air filled with the musky scent of some unknown beast. It prowled under the rock, clawing at the stone, trying to climb up. Fortunately, the hollow lay on a nearly sheer cliff, and the creature’s massive weight kept it from reaching them.
Clutching the spear tightly in her tiny hands, Mingzhu fixed her gaze on the cave’s edge. Her whole body trembled with fear, yet she was ready to strike without mercy if a beast’s muzzle appeared in the gap. She dared not crawl to the edge to look down—better to stay still, silent, and listen. The heavy breathing of the creature filled the night.
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A growl sounded close, too close. Claws scraped the stone, then came a dull thud against the ground beneath. Mingzhu almost screamed. Her heart pounded so hard it hurt. Tears welled in her eyes, but she didn’t dare sob. Glancing at her sleeping sister, she frowned bravely and gripped her makeshift spear tighter. She didn’t close her eyes once until dawn, fighting off exhaustion to guard their refuge.
When morning finally broke, the forest began to quiet. The unknown beast had long since left, defeated after several failed attempts to climb the cliff. Worn out in body and spirit, Mingzhu didn’t even notice when she drifted into sleep. The sisters slept well into the late morning, until the cheerful trills of birds woke them.
When they opened their eyes, they saw a bird with bright, beautiful plumage perched on the cave’s edge. Tilting its head, it peered at the two strange little beings with one curious eye. As soon as they stirred, it let out a scolding cry and flew away, leaving a few small feathers fluttering down onto the stone floor.
“The sun is up,” said Mingzhu.
After a sip of water from the bamboo flask, she carefully peeked out of the shelter. The forest looked peaceful, calm. A warm breeze carried the fresh scent of leaves; the steady hum of insects washed away her worries, and the songs of birds soothed her heart. Nearby, a lizard basked fearlessly on a sunlit rock.
“Oh!” Xue yawned behind her, rubbing her eyes.
After a night of deep sleep, she felt much better. The fever was gone, her face had regained its color, only her leg still ached. She didn’t think about why she had recovered so quickly, but it was thanks to the body-strengthening technique from the scroll that her body had fought off the venom without lasting harm.
Seeing no danger, the girls climbed down from the rock and made their way to the stream to refresh and refill their flask for the journey back. At the base of the cliff, they noticed a tree marked with deep claw scratches. A tuft of fur clung to the bark, as if the beast had rubbed itself there. Trampled grass and torn bushes told of its frustration after a failed hunt.
“A big animal!” exclaimed Xue. “We’d better leave before it comes back.”
“Yes,” Mingzhu agreed, frowning. “Let’s hurry! Take the stick, it’ll be useful.”
Although she really wanted to tell Xue about the previous night, the terrifying growls and how her heart had almost leapt out of her chest, she decided not to frighten her sister. Perhaps, when they returned home, she would tell her how bravely she had endured the whole night, and her sister would surely praise her. But first, they had to get out.
The previous evening, they hadn’t had time to really look around, but now, in the daylight, they saw the abundance of life surrounding the stream. Lush plants and bright flowers formed a living green carpet along both banks. On a nearby tree entwined with vines, fist-sized fruits swayed gently. A little farther downstream, bamboo groves shimmered in the light. Life thrived wherever the water flowed.
