Compared to the locals accustomed to the cold, the squad’s Poison-stinger Wasps and Beetles developed varying degrees of chill sensitivity after entering the snowfield.
When night fell they all curled up in the warmest corners of the cave, huddled around the fire to keep warm, occasionally emitting faint rustling sounds like shivers.
Beside them, rows of bulging cloth sacks were neatly stacked.
After the Bat Slime agreed, Sekashi and Semiaya carefully approached and untied the cord of one sack.
With a clatter, a pile of irregular but plump, solid tubers tumbled onto the straw-strewn ground, still coated with the rich black soil of Rootwhisper Forest, though it had already dried.
“So much food!” Sekashi exclaimed.
Semiaya picked one up and hefted it, feeling its weight.
The two sisters exchanged looks, then untied the rest of the sacks to reveal even more tubers.
In addition, there were more than a dozen tightly packed bags of smoked jerky, salt wrapped in thick oiled paper, and even some iron tools tied with straw—iron pots, iron axes, and spears, things for daily life and hunting.
For a group starving and lacking supplies, this was like coal in the snow.Sekashi also found a special cloth bag engraved with delicate magic patterns. Curiously she opened it and discovered a brand-new cold-resistant leather armor set and an exquisitely crafted elven staff.
The staff’s wood was smooth and warm to the touch, and a gem set at its tip emitted a gentle, soothing warmth. Just holding it, Sekashi felt a wave of heat that drove away the chill.
“This is... for me?” Sekashi rubbed the staff in disbelief, unwilling to put it down.
The Bat Slime hopped excitedly, proud: “Of course. The sovereign personally picked it out. It’s made from premium moonwood and a warm-sun stone—both beautiful and practical.”
Of course, Chen Yu hadn’t forgotten Semiaya’s share.
In the other outfit, besides the cold-resistant leather armor, there were two patterned steel short blades.
The grips were wrapped with anti-slip leather cord, and the blades bore natural frostlike patterns that spread like ice blooms, reflecting cold, sharp light in the firelight.
Elven smithing wouldn’t explain such superb forging;
these had been traded for with merchants passing through the territory.
Semiaya picked up a short blade, twirled her wrist and flourished it;
the wind from the blade carried a metallic chill and satisfaction flashed across her eyes.
She sheathed the short blade and, facing the Bat Slime, solemnly thanked it: “Thank you, generous envoy. If we return safely to the swamp, Sekashi and I will personally come visit and express our gratitude.”
After their delight, they remembered everyone was still starving and hurriedly brought the sacks of tubers in front of the fire.
The savages who had been drinking boiled snow water for sustenance rose to help carry them when they saw the sisters approach.
“Miss Sekashi, let me.”
“I’ll help as well.”
“Thank you all.” Sekashi smiled gratefully.
Before the aged shaman Brutu could ask what was in the sacks, the helpers cried out in surprise.
“What’s happening?” the old man asked anxiously.
Pointing with trembling fingers, the savages spoke with joy and disbelief, “It’s food—so much food!!”
Sekashi emptied one sack fully onto a spread hide, letting the purple-brown, plump tubers lie exposed for everyone to see.
She smiled lightly: “The envoy brought enough food;
no one will starve tonight.”
“Food?!”
At the word “food,” the savages’ eyes, dimmed by fatigue and hunger, instantly lit up frighteningly. The sounds of swallowing rose and fell.
Shaman Brutu drew a deep breath and struck his staff—an emblem of his status—heavily on the ground to suppress the excited clamor. His voice was hoarse but solemn.
“Put away your disgrace. This is a blessing from the gods through their envoy;
do not forget to be grateful.”
At his words the savages immediately grew solemn, set down what they held, and knelt before the Bat Slime in devotion, murmuring the old, simple prayers.
At that moment, the Bat Slime perched on Sekashi’s shoulder sensed something strange.
It seemed to see a nearly imperceptible white halo flash across the kneeling savages, then vanish quickly.
“Huh?” the Bat Slime cocked its round little head in puzzlement.
It looked to Sekashi and Semiaya, who were busy sorting the food and appeared not to notice. The Bat Slime was curious but its tiny brain wasn’t built for complex thought, so it dismissed the phenomenon as an illusion and pushed it out of mind.
Soon the cave was bustling again. The tubers were scrubbed clean with snow, skewered on sharpened sticks, and roasted over the fire until their skins crisped and hissed.
Some tubers were cut into pieces, thrown into a newly arrived iron pot with shredded jerky, snow water, and precious salt, simmering into a thick, aromatic meat broth.
Before long, the smell of roasted tubers and meat broth spread through the cavern like a warm hand, soothing each ravenous stomach and exhausted soul.
The savages circled the fire, watching hungrily as the food transformed in the flames;
stomachs grumbled involuntarily.
They didn’t eat at once;
according to tribe custom, the first roasted tubers and the first steaming bowl of soup were respectfully offered to Sekashi and Semiaya.
Sekashi thanked them and took a perfectly roasted tuber. Facing the expectant gazes of the savages, she carefully blew on it and nibbled a small bite.