The bright moon hung high in the blue-black sky, exhaling mist formed from moonlight.
The light and mist passed through the rustling leaves, casting a layer of gray on the ground formed by moonlight and tree shadows.
The night wind swayed the grass, lifting the hems of the night travelers' clothes, as Madlan and others crouched low, quickly advancing through the overlapping paths made of countless huts.
In the shadows cast by the stacked huts, they seemed like a bunch of ghosts.
"Ah——" A sound unknown to anyone startled a refugee sleeping on the ground in the open air.
He lifted his head to see two or three dozen robust men with wooden sticks and pitchforks cautiously moving forward.
Upon seeing him raise his head, dozens of fierce eyes gazed at him, making him immediately bury his head in the dry grass.
The footsteps gradually receded, and only then did the refugee dare to take a deep breath. He pulled his head out of the dry grass to see if those people had left.
