A gentle night breeze swept by, feeling like soft velvet against the skin.
Wei Song leaned against a waist-high rock, a chill seeping into his back as he stared calmly ahead.
The warm current in his chest continued to circulate slowly, like a Miniature Sun slumbering within him. It radiated a steady warmth that drove away the chill of the wilderness.
Nearby, beside a patch of overgrown weeds, the thirty-seven survivors huddled together.
The night wind carried away their sobs and whispers, blurring the sounds until they were indistinct.
Some curled into a ball, hugging their knees, their shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Others leaned on one another, using the moonlight to examine their scrapes.
Several of the older ones were pale-faced with vacant stares, still trapped in the terror of what had just happened.
Every few seconds, one of them would steal a glance toward Wei Song, their expressions a complex, unreadable mixture.
