As dawn approached, a thin mist rose between the mountains.
A carriage adorned with double banners and double emblems burst forth from the mist, the crimson bamboo joints reflecting the moonlight, the robust tails of yaks swaying back and forth.
The driver seemed to be asleep, his head bobbing up and down.
From both sides of the mountain path came rustling sounds, footsteps on grass, sounding a bit like bears, yet also like wolves.
Gradually, these rustling sounds grew in number and density. Shadows paralleled the carriage on both sides of the forest, leaping and darting through the woods.
But the forest was dim, making it impossible to discern what exactly was trailing the carriage.
Until a teeth-clenching creak sounded, the sound of sinew bowstrings drawing a horn bow, straining under weight.
The next moment.
A clear bird call pierced through the mist, and all shadows simultaneously released their bowstrings.
Twang!
Twang!
Twang!
