This was a meal that whetted the appetite.
When it came to genuine mushroom and meat soup, perhaps only she and Xi Yi had tasted it. As for the soups cooked back in the original cave settlement, they were simply mushroom soups—though delicious enough.
Now, these mushroom soups mixed with slices of cured meat, even without any grease, were infinitely more flavorful than plain broth. The group ate with remarkable speed.
Xi Yi was no exception.
Since the broth for this meal was her creation, Xi Gu naturally gave her a larger portion, even more than Xi Yi’s share. But her appetite was small, so she ended up giving two-thirds of it to him.
Xi Yi, familiar with her eating habits, didn’t refuse and finished both portions.
Truth be told, there was only more broth—the meat and mushrooms were still limited. Worried he might get hungry later while handling the horse carcass, she wanted to grill some extra meat for him, but he declined.
Sha Yi had no choice. Reflecting on her mediocre grilling skills, she didn’t insist and quietly sat back down beside him.
After everyone finished eating, Xi Gu shared the morning’s events regarding the new horse with the group. No one objected to the plan of burying the carcass or keeping the foal. On the contrary, some even volunteered to join Xi Yi in searching for those large, coconut-like fruits.
Those who offered were from the Saina clan.
Sha Yi suspected this might also be in preparation for the newborn. Regardless, they fully supported her and Xi Yi’s decisions without question. Even if she didn’t participate in any labor, no one found it unfair or unpleasant.
She vaguely sensed that, in their eyes, she had taken on the role of a leader. Every idea of hers carried absolute authority, unlike the people from the old cave settlement, who had been skeptical and resistant.
She couldn’t recall when or how this shift had happened, but it was a fortunate development. At the very least, she no longer had to hesitate or second-guess herself when making plans.
When the topic of potential predators tracking them here came up, the group showed no signs of fear—as if they were either too accustomed to danger or simply unbothered in their numbers. This reaction surprised Sha Yi.
Still, given the time that had passed since the new horse appeared, any predator should have had ample opportunity to catch up by now. Yet, there was no sign of disturbance outside the cave, leaving her puzzled.
Xi Yi, however, paid no mind. After sitting for a while, he called Ma Rui to help prepare the horse carcass.
The blood had already been cleaned, and the remaining carcass wasn’t dirty. After enduring wind and rain, its fur was damp but otherwise clean.
Now covered with a large leaf, from Sha Yi’s seated perspective, only its drooping tail was visible beyond the foliage.
It was nothing like the tail of a modern horse.
The tail’s color differed slightly from the horse’s yellowish-brown coat—a lighter tan. By her estimate, it was longer than the hind legs, but since the carcass lay on its side, she couldn’t gauge its exact length, only guessing it might drag on the ground.
Unlike the loose, coarse strands of a modern horse’s tail, this one resembled tightly braided hair—dense and cohesive, with a distinct texture and weight.
Watching the two wrap the carcass in leaves, Sha Yi suddenly realized something had been overlooked.
She sat pondering until only the tail remained exposed, then it struck her: the fibrous strands they had retrieved from Pan Kuo’s cave for bowstrings were made from this horse’s tail!
Seeing Xi Yi about to tuck the tail into the leaves, Sha Yi grabbed his arm in a hurry. “Xi Yi, stop! The new horse’s tail hairs are bowstring material!”
He paused, but both Xi Yi and Ma Rui looked baffled, as if struggling to grasp her meaning.
It wasn’t their fault—the bow was a foreign concept, and she hadn’t explained its components in detail. At most, she had mentioned the “string” to Xi Yi, but only as a single word. Now, speaking rapidly and linking it to the unfamiliar “horse tail hairs,” they found it hard to follow.
Without delay, she glanced around, grabbed Xi Yi’s bow resting by the tub, and showed it to them. “See this? The part you pull back with the arrow—the bowstring—is made from horse tail hairs. We only have a dozen or so bows because the material is scarce. Now we can replenish it.”
She pointed at the tail’s fibrous strands.
Following her words, they compared the bowstring to the tail hairs. After a long moment, Xi Yi nodded in agreement. Ma Rui, perhaps influenced by Xi Gu, mimicked his habit of smacking his lips before nodding along.
Sha Yi sighed inwardly but said nothing, simply handing Xi Yi the fruit knife used earlier to cut open the mare’s belly, signaling him to harvest the tail hairs.
Xi Yi complied without protest, carefully cutting out all the usable strands.
With lingering concerns about the predator and no reason to venture out in the storm, the group lit torches and resumed their tasks from the previous night.
Since there was little else to do, making more bows—the most efficient weapons they had ever seen—was the obvious choice.
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage