Wei and Chun stayed pressed against the outer clay wall of the village and moved forward inch by inch.
The earth at the base of the wall was damp. Moss crept along the cracks between the stones. When stepped on, it felt soft and yielding. Too soft. But they could not afford a sound.
Each foot came down slow and careful, testing the ground before taking weight.
The village leaned against the mountain.
Spring water seeped out from narrow cracks in the rock. Someone long ago had guided it down into the village. Between the clustered houses, it had been forced into a well, as if carved there against its will.
The water in the well was clear. Too clear for this place. Too clear for this time.
It looked like an open eye staring straight up.
A torch was planted beside it.
The flame shook in the night wind. Orange light slid along the stone rim and spilled outward, lighting the narrow path ahead.
That light was their greatest obstacle.
The distance was short. Barely more than ten steps.
To truly enter the village, they had to cross that strip of firelit ground.
But neither of them could know if that brightness was already being watched.
In the darkness, there might be eyes.
Still. Unblinking.
Like a snake coiled in shadow.
Waiting.
Wei lowered his voice until it was almost nothing. His lips barely moved.
"I go first," he said. "You stay hidden. Wait for my signal. When it's safe, you come."
"No."
Chun answered without thinking. Her voice was tight, stretched thin.
"I go first."
She had not finished speaking.
A figure burst out of the darkness on the far side.
The man stumbled straight into the torchlight. His steps were chaotic, uneven, as if the ground itself refused him. He ran like something was right behind him.
He ran and kept looking back. His breath tore out of his chest in ragged gasps.
Chun jerked in shock. Fear surged up before thought could stop it. She twisted, ready to bolt.
Wei caught her wrist.
His grip was sudden and strong. Pain flashed. He pulled her down hard and pressed her against the wall, forcing her into its shadow.
He had already seen the man's face.
High cheekbones. A thick, scraggly beard stuck to his cheeks and jaw.
The torch flared, and the face became clear.
Too clear.
Two days ago, that same face had been by the well.
Shouting.
Complaining that Chun drew water too slowly.
Cursing Wei for cleaning animal hides nearby, for letting loose hair blow into the well.
A strip of old leather was wrapped around the man's wrist.
The leather was worn smooth from years of use. The knot was unusual.
Wei remembered the man talking about it.
He had said that in the forest, at night, he only needed to touch the knot. By feel alone, he could tell how far he had gone. He would never lose his way.
That man was Old Kang.
Old Kang was an old hunter.
But he was not a good one.
He had a habit of emptying other people's traps and carrying the game home as if it were his own.
Now he was almost past the edge of the torchlight.
Almost out.
A sharp sound cut through the air.
An arrow followed him like a living thing.
The tip punched straight through his thigh.
Old Kang pitched forward.
He slammed into the ground, face first.
The torchlight fell on him.
Blood spread fast, dark and thick.
In the heat of the flame, steam rose from it.
Old Kang was still moving.
He wailed. His fingers dug into the dirt. He dragged himself forward, inch by inch, but his body would not leave the light.
Behind him, a crooked trail of blood smeared the ground.
The air filled with a heavy, metallic stench.
"Ah—"
Chun let out a cry.
In the same breath, she clamped her hand over her mouth.
A short figure dressed in black stepped slowly into the light.
The man held a curved saber. The blade caught the firelight and flashed cold.
His gaze slid toward their direction, sharp and probing.
Wei felt Chun trembling.
Her body wanted to run. Every instinct screamed at her to turn and flee.
Wei set a hand on her shoulder.
The hand was not large.
But it was warm.
Steady.
Her shaking eased. The tension in her shoulders loosened, little by little.
The man in black scanned the area.
Nothing stirred.
Satisfied, he turned back toward Old Kang. A pleased look crept across his face.
"Run," he said politly. "Weren't you good at running."
His voice grated, like metal dragged across stone.
"Go on," he said. "Run again."
His foot came down.
He ground his heel into the wounded leg.
Old Kang screamed.
His body curled inward, but he could not move away.
"Please," he begged. His words broke apart. "Please don't kill me."
"We don't have to," the man said.
He bent down slowly. His tone cooled.
"Tell me this. Are there soldiers in your village."
"No," Old Kang gasped. "No soldiers."
"Is there a man about forty," the man asked. "Knife scar on his arm. Moved here not long ago."
Chun snapped her head toward Wei.
Wei understood at once.
The description fit his father.
Wei watched Old Kang's face twist. Muscles jumped beneath the skin. It was hard to tell if the pain or the choice hurt more.
The man in black saw it.
He did not rush him.
Instead, he spoke calmly.
"That man used to keep our accounts," he said. "He stole from our leader and ran."
"You can protect him if you like."
The saber slid free.
Light flashed.
Fingers flew.
Blood burst into the air.
Several fingers landed in the mud.
Old Kang's scream ripped through the night.
Wei shoved Chun deeper into the wall's shadow.
His other hand had already reached behind him. His fingers closed around the short spear.
He gripped it until his knuckles turned white.
The man in black examined his blade.
He looked satisfied.
Wei knew that strike had been exact.
The fingers were gone.
The leg was untouched.
That kind of control was dangerous.
In the darkness, another black-clad figure jogged forward.
He carried a bow.
"Fine work, boss," he said.
His voice was thick with flattery.
"I told you to watch the surroundings," the swordsman said.
His eyes flicked toward the archer.
"Who told you to come here?"
"No one's around," the archer said with a grin. "Besides, the others are close."
The swordsman considered this.
Then he turned back to Old Kang.
"Well," he said. "Are you going to talk?"
"I'll talk," Old Kang nodded.
His whole body shook. His voice barely held together.
"There is such a man."
"Oh," the swordsman said. "Just one."
"He has a wife," Old Kang rushed on. "And a son."
"The son has a girl," he added quickly. "I can help you find them. All of them."
"Where does he live."
"Ahead," Old Kang said. "Not far."
"Good."
"Sir," Old Kang said. "I can't stand."
"Can't stand?"
The saber rose again.
"I can," Old Kang cried. "I can ...stand."
His teeth clenched until they creaked. He forced himself upright.
The swordsman lost patience. He grabbed Old Kang's arm.
The archer stepped in and took the other side.
They began to drag him forward.
At that moment, a sharp whistling sound tore through the air.