Chapter 66: The Infant

The thunderstorm persisted until late afternoon. In the meantime, the newly joined man and woman handled the mess after the meal. Sha Yi’s stainless steel bowl surprised them greatly and even sparked their enthusiasm, but no one offered any explanation. After all, the relentless downpour that had lasted a full day and night finally ceased, and everyone had their own tasks to attend to.

Overall, the tribe in the Western Yi Valley was quite organized. In this cave dwelling, some small groups had remained lying down all day without moving, yet they had already assigned their respective duties—the men, as usual, went out hunting, while the women stayed behind to prepare the evening meal.

Before setting off, Xigu addressed the group again with a few words. Though unclear what exactly was said, his expression was grave, and the others appeared equally serious.

When Xi Yi and the six other men prepared to leave the cave, each carrying a rongmo (a type of animal), Sha Yi suddenly felt a surge of anxiety.

Bringing the rongmo indicated that the rain might not be entirely over, and with the lingering threat of thunder and lightning, it was no wonder everyone here dreaded the arrival of the rainy season.

The rainy season, in essence, was a period of hardship. In this ancient era, the environment and conditions were harsh. The first three challenges—floods, snakes, and food scarcity—were already daunting enough, and the rain-induced food shortage was the fourth major obstacle.

Yet, there was no other choice. They had to plan for the mid-to-late rainy season, so venturing out during the lull in the rain was far better than sitting idle, waiting for their stored food to run out and facing starvation.

In this era, the men usually returned from hunts with ample prey. Normally, food shortages were rare. Logically, as long as they had salt, all food-related issues could be resolved, and even the risk of accidents could be significantly reduced. Unfortunately, this condition had yet to be met.

Sha Yi thought of another solution—keeping captured animals alive and raising them could effectively address food and nutritional needs during the rainy season. However, upon further consideration, she realized this was impractical for now. Animals also needed to eat, meaning people would still have to venture out. Still, this method was worth considering and would likely become inevitable in the future.

After much deliberation, Sha Yi concluded that the thunderstorms were the root cause. The former led to floods, snakes, and food shortages, while the latter, though singular in nature, posed a terrifyingly high risk of striking people and objects based on her two encounters. It was indeed the deadliest threat—one that almost guaranteed fatality if encountered in the wild.

With this in mind, she called Xi Yi and tried to convey her thoughts. She believed he would understand, but the result was frustrating. She attempted to communicate in the ancient language, which delighted him, but she still failed to articulate the key points, leaving him just as confused as before.

Helpless, Sha Yi gave up on explaining this time. She gestured for him to hurry while silently resolving to improve her command of the ancient language as soon as possible. This clumsy communication was severely disrupting her life and even endangering both her and Xi Yi’s safety.

Xi Yi, still unclear about her intentions, watched as she waved her hands and fell into deep thought. Though puzzled, he said nothing. Instead, he walked to the cave entrance, studied the sky for a while, then returned and signaled for her to follow him outside.

After a brief consideration, Sha Yi agreed.

Outside the cave, the air was damp and fresh after the prolonged downpour, and the temperature had dropped noticeably compared to the previous days. A slight chill greeted her as she stepped out, but the drop was manageable. The terrain, however, was far worse.

The cave itself was situated on relatively high ground and remained unaffected, but the paths leading from it were submerged in water. Fortunately, due to the open surroundings, the water wasn’t excessively deep.

Unwilling to let her wade through the water, Xi Yi carried her on his back until they reached higher ground before setting her down. Just then, an unidentified gray creature darted past them. Xi Yi immediately turned to chase it.

The small, agile animal eluded Xi Yi’s grasp after several attempts, eventually fleeing down another slope. Instinctively, Xi Yi wanted to pursue it—encountering prey in such weather was rare, and catching it was crucial. But he hesitated, stopping to glance back at her.

Sha Yi signaled for him to go ahead without worrying about her. After a moment’s thought, he handed her the rongmo tied to his waist before resuming his chase.

Left alone, Sha Yi sat on a large boulder atop the slope, idly examining the rongmo. This one, likely Xi Yi’s own, was much larger than hers but shared the same lethargic demeanor, only perking up when snakes were nearby.

Now, it lay curled up, half-asleep, suggesting the surroundings were safe. She set it aside and looked up at the sky.

Though the rain had stopped, the overcast gray clouds hinted at its imminent return. Faint flashes of colored light flickered within the dark, misty layers—a sign that thunder and lightning would soon follow. The wilderness was no place to linger. Once Xi Yi returned, she would urge him to head back immediately. As for the others, they had already split up inside the cave. She couldn’t warn them, but they likely had their own awareness of the danger.

Lost in thought, she suddenly heard the cry of a baby, faintly coming from the dense thicket behind her. As she listened intently, the cries grew more frequent and urgent.

Unable to stay still, Sha Yi stood and peered into the woods. The lush, shadowy trees appeared even darker under the gloomy sky, filling her with trepidation. Her steps faltered as fear and hesitation took hold.

After an internal struggle, Sha Yi finally relented. Whether due to innate female instincts or overflowing maternal concern, her fear was no match for her worry.

The forest was eerily dark, with towering trees, dense foliage, and thigh-deep stagnant water. Summoning her courage, Sha Yi followed the cries for a considerable distance before discovering their source atop several broken tree trunks. At first glance, her blood ran cold.

The trees had likely been struck by lightning, their charred remains half-submerged in murky water. A grotesque, pitch-black humanoid figure clung to one trunk in a twisted, unnatural pose.

The cries came from that very spot—where the charred figure pressed against the trunk, a thick vine was wedged, its other end suspending a makeshift cradle woven from vines. The cries emanated from within it.