✓ Operating log of the Tavern of the Dead

23

Northland.

Extreme Winter Collar.

There is no spring in the polar winter collar. Every year, it is only in the height of summer that the sun melts the snow and ice, bringing a brief but vigorous life.

It is almost the northernmost point of the continent, and further north is the permafrost.

Little Amy searches through the taiga.

Spring has reached the tail and the days are getting longer, but the deer have not returned, and the occasional rabbit waking up early in the forest is looking for grass roots buried under the snow. Rabbits have fur as white as snow, and they are timid and agile, alert to possible predators.

Little Amy got nothing.

She was not old enough to be called a hunter, and she could not easily search for cunning prey in the white woodlands like the village elders.

The child fired an arrow into the distance, but the foraging snow fox dodged lightly, scratching its fur on its hind legs and burrowing into the woods in a few steps.

Little Amy chased after her, but the fox's figure was long gone, and a snow^ flew over, landed on the branch above her head, hissed twice, and flew away quickly. Frustrated, she picked up the arrow, sat down on the ground, and wiped her eyes.

The thin daylight faded away, and the short day that belonged to the Arctic Winter Collar was almost over.

Little Amy gasped, got back to her feet, and walked deeper into the woodland again. She didn't have much time to rest, and her mother and brother were still waiting for him at home.

Her father was chasing a herd of deer in a snowstorm this fall and never returned. Although the elders of the village helped out, after surviving the long winter, it was difficult for other families to squeeze out surplus food. Little Amy is the eldest sister, and when her younger brother cries because of hunger, she secretly takes her father's bow and arrow to try her luck in the woodland.

But she's too young at all.

Adult hunters of the North, whose hunting bow can shoot through the head of a snow deer. In two years, little Amy might be able to, but now she could barely pull the bowstring and shoot a rabbit running in the snow.

As time passed, the shadows of the woodland crept down, and the cold, heavy vapor diffused between the breaths.

Little Amy stopped again, the bow on her shoulders was a little heavy, and she couldn't carry it a little. The little hunter had been out so late for the first time, and was a little hesitant and alarmed, when the sound of the whirring wind and the chirping of ^ birds came from the woods, and she clung to her bow and walked in the snow with one foot deep and the other shallow.

She saw the fire.

A lumberjack's cabin appeared in front of him, with a warm yellow light shining through the wooden windows.

Little Amy was stunned, she couldn't help but rub her eyes, and when she looked over, the lights in the room were still warm and bright. But at this time, there should be no loggers in the woods.

But the little boy was so tired that she hesitated for a moment, then went over and pushed open the door of the hut.

The warm heat rushed to his face, and immediately melted the chill around him.

Little Amy stood dumbly in the doorway, looking at the scene in the room.

The hearth was burning warmly, a pot of stew was simmering on the fire, and there were several jars on the ground, and three people were sitting around the ground, looking intently at the cards in their hands.