Chapter 1066 – Mo Lan’s Travel Diary 19

After the hunting demonstration ended, it was time for the archery contest.

This event wasn’t limited to hunters—any member of the tribe could participate.

The targets weren’t stationary. Instead, colorful strips of cloth were hung from distant treetops, tied with thin cords. When the mountain winds blew, the strips swayed back and forth, greatly increasing the difficulty.

Several of the young warriors who had helped carry hides the day before all participated. Taliro’s archery was the most accurate—three arrows, three hits—earning him thunderous cheers.

Children were also allowed to compete in this event.

Tatari children as young as seven or eight could already draw a small bow. Though they lacked strength, their form was already quite impressive.

Tamuna also took the field. Her arrow flew crookedly off course, not even grazing the edge of the target tree, but it earned her good-natured laughter and encouraging applause from everyone.

“Would you like to try, Miss Sylvia?” Talam had walked over at some point, holding a small bow specially made for children.

Sylvia was startled for a moment, then her eyes lit up. “May I?”

“Of course.” Talam smiled. “The festival belongs to everyone.”

Sylvia took the small bow.

The bow was made from supple wood, polished smooth and warm to the touch. She copied the stance she had just observed—planted her feet, nocked an arrow, drew the string—and the arrow flew out weakly, landing in the grass not far away.

The watching Tatari all laughed.

Several children ran over to retrieve the arrow for her, and Tamuna solemnly demonstrated the proper technique: “Your wrist should be like this! Keep your breathing steady!”

Sylvia tried several more times. On her third attempt, the arrow finally grazed past the bark of the target tree, leaving a faint white mark on its surface.

“I hit it!” She jumped up with joy.

The surrounding Tatari all applauded for her.

In that moment, Sylvia felt utterly exhilarated, and a deep interest in hunting took root within her.

As evening approached, the bonfire was lit.

The enormous fire roared to life, orange-red flames leaping toward the darkening sky, sparks crackling and dancing upward like a meteor shower in reverse.

The aroma of roasting meat reached its peak. Iron-Horned Bull and Moonlight Deer turned slowly over the flames, fat dripping into the fire with an enticing sizzle.

The women carved the roasted meat into large chunks, served them on wooden platters and distributed them to everyone, accompanied by fresh mountain berries, Moonlight Mushrooms pickled in thunder fruit wine, and flatbread dipped in tree honey.

Sylvia received a generous platter.

Following Tamuna’s example, she grabbed a chunk of meat with her bare hands and bit into it. The meat was tender and juicy, the skin perfectly charred and fragrant.

“Delicious!” Her eyes crinkled into happy crescents.

Mo Lan also sat beside her daughter with a plate in hand. She ate more elegantly, cutting the meat into small pieces with a knife, but the contentment in her eyes was just the same.

Clan Leader Talam personally poured thunder fruit wine for Mo Lan.

She took a delicate sip. It was sweet and tart, with a faintly tingly sensation like a mild electric current.

The sky darkened completely.

The bonfire became the sole source of light, casting warm red glow across every face. Shadows stretched and swayed behind them as if alive.

Seven or eight hide drums of varying sizes beat in unison, the rhythm shifting from slow to urgent, like mountain rain approaching from afar, like a heartbeat rising from calm to fervor.

The war dance began.

The elder warriors entered first.

They carried long spears or battle axes, their faces painted with colorful designs, their steps heavy and powerful.

Then came the younger generation.

Their dances were more agile, more varied—sometimes like a leopard’s ambush, sometimes like a falcon’s dive.

The Flash Thunder Wolves also joined at their masters’ call, weaving among the dancers, the electric light along their spines shimmering in concert with the bonfire’s glow.

Finally, the children joined in too.

They had no set choreography—they simply moved their bodies to the drumbeat, clapping, stomping, spinning.

Laughter, singing, and drumming merged into one great, joyous roar.

Sylvia was pulled into the dancing crowd by Tamuna.

The drums gradually subsided.

The dancers returned to their seats drenched in sweat, drinking deeply and talking loudly.

The atmosphere relaxed, becoming warm and languid. Then, an old woman with graying hair and faded face paint slowly made her way to the bonfire’s edge.

She carried no instrument. She simply sat cross-legged, closed her eyes, and began to sing.

Her voice was aged and hoarse, yet possessed a strange, piercing quality. The melody was like mountain wind through a canyon, like a stream flowing over pebbles, like the breath of a forest deep in the night, like the distant whisper of a thunderstorm.

Everyone fell silent.

Even the most restless children nestled into their mothers’ arms, eyes wide, listening.

Mo Lan and Sylvia listened quietly as well.

The old woman sang for a long time.

When her final note faded, the bonfire happened to blaze at its brightest, sparks soaring into the night sky and mingling with the stars.

A long silence followed.

Then Clan Leader Talam rose to his feet and raised his horn cup:

“To the ancestors! To the mountains and thunder! To the friends gathered here tonight!”

Everyone raised their cups.

“To the ancestors! To the mountains and thunder! To our friends!”

Their voices echoed through the valley.

Sylvia also raised her small wooden cup, mimicking everyone else, and drained her diluted thunder fruit wine in one gulp. The tingly sweetness blossomed on her tongue and warmed her all the way to her heart.

The night deepened.

The younger children were carried back to their tents to sleep, but the festivities continued, shifting into more relaxed conversation.

Small groups gathered around smaller fires, sharing food and exchanging stories.

Sylvia had long since grown drowsy. She leaned against her mother, eyelids drooping, yet stubbornly fought to stay awake as Tamuna recounted the thrilling tale of her first hunting trip into the mountains with her father.

When Tamuna herself finally fell asleep in her grandfather the Clan Leader’s arms, Mo Lan gently stroked her daughter’s hair and smiled at Talam:

“Clan Leader, thank you for your hospitality tonight! We’ll head back now.”

Talam nodded understandingly. “Let me escort you two back to the castle.”

“There’s no need.” Mo Lan stood, lifting the drowsy Sylvia into her arms. “The moonlight is lovely. We’ll walk back—it’ll help us digest.”

She nodded in farewell to Talam and the other Elders, then carried her daughter and slowly walked back to the castle.

The bonfire’s light gradually receded behind them, and moonlight spread across the grass like a layer of silver frost.

Half-asleep in her mother’s arms, Sylvia murmured softly:

“Mama… the Tatari are so warm and welcoming…”

“Tamuna is my first friend from another tribe. When I grow up, I’m coming back to see her!”

“Someday… I want to go to so many, many places… and meet so many, many people…”

“Alright. Mama will go with you.”

Her voice trailed off.

Sylvia had fallen completely asleep, her small face pressed against her mother’s shoulder, a faint smile still lingering at the corners of her lips.

Mo Lan carried her back to the castle.

The next morning, the mobile castle set sail once more.

Sylvia stood on the terrace, waving goodbye to the Tatari gathered below to see them off. “Clan Leader Talam! Everyone! We’re leaving now—goodbye!”

The Tatari below immediately called back:

“Safe travels!”

“Come visit again!”

Tamuna’s voice was the loudest.

Sylvia’s eyes felt warm and prickly. “Tamuna, when I’m grown up I’ll come find you, and we’ll go hunting together!”

“It’s a promise!”

“It’s a promise!”