Maomao and the others were fleeing through the forest. Along the way, they heard the sound of pursuing footsteps, and each time, they hid. When the numbers were small, the two guards who had been serving as their coachmen dealt with them.
But there was no telling how long they could keep this up.
"Ow."
The younger of the two guards had an injured arm. He'd been slashed during a skirmish with their pursuers.
Maomao applied the hemostatic herbal remedy she had on hand and wrapped the wound with a strip of cloth. The nerves didn't appear to be damaged, but his movement would likely be sluggish.
Most pressing of all was the question of how many pursuers there were—and whether there was any end in sight to this flight.
(We're in a tight spot.)
If even an amateur like Maomao could see that, the two guards had to understand the situation just as well.
"Young ladies."
The middle-aged guard addressed Maomao with a grave expression.
"There are too many of them. Honestly, this has gone beyond what the money we were paid is worth. We can probably keep running around for a while longer, but as long as we don't leave this forest, there's no way we can protect you."
"..."
It was a perfectly reasonable thing to say.
Even if they managed to escape the forest, they had no horses. They had almost no food or water, and returning to the town they'd come from would be difficult. Going back to the carriage was out of the question, and above all, reaching the next town was probably impossible.
The situation was even worse than they had anticipated.
"Honestly, there's probably no point in keeping this up. I didn't become an escort guard because I'm good in a fight. As you can see, it's cowardice that's kept me alive."
Maomao understood. Rather than someone recklessly brave, a person with strong survival instincts was far better suited to the job of a guard.
"...I understand."
Maomao exhaled.
"Just to confirm—even if I offered to pay an additional fee, would that be out of the question?"
She clung to a faint glimmer of hope that if they could somehow procure horses, they might be able to escape—but.
The two guards exchanged glances and shook their heads.
"The safest option would be to catch the wild horses that gather at the nearest watering hole. We could ride them, but could you ride an untamed horse with no saddle? And we're not confident we could outrun them with two people on one horse."
"..."
Maomao thought that she should have learned to ride when she had the chance.
Where there's life, there's hope.
If anything, these two guards were fairly decent people.
(They wouldn't betray them and hand them over to their pursuers. Nor would they simply take the money and abandon them.)
They had tried to fulfill their duty, judged it impossible, and were now explaining the situation to Maomao and the others.
"...You're still young, and you're women. Even if you're caught, there's a good chance you'll survive."
"..."
(Good chance of surviving, huh.)
There was no telling what would be done to them. Being captured by bandits—there was no guarantee they'd be treated decently.
But if these guards were captured, they would almost certainly be killed.
Maomao judged that further negotiation was pointless.
"I understand. But I have one favor to ask."
"...What is it?"
The middle-aged guard asked warily, bracing himself.
Maomao took out a handkerchief and tore it.
"Xiaohong, what's your mother's name?"
"
Yinxing
"
Maomao noted that it wasn't a name given to an animal, and wrote it down.
"Also, can I borrow this?"
"Sure."
She took Xiaohong's hair ornament.
"Please give this hair ornament to this person. As payment for now—"
Maomao searched her robes for something. She had a little money on her, but it was barely enough for travel expenses. In that case—
(How terribly, terribly wasteful)
With a heavy heart, Maomao drew out a small drawstring pouch. Inside were several lopsided pearls. She had been saving them for use as medicine someday, but there was nothing to be done about it.
"I'm sorry about this."
The two guards left Maomao and the others in the forest. Xiaolian clung to Maomao while watching their retreating figures with a sorrowful expression. Being the clever girl she was, she surely understood they had been left behind.
Now then, the problem was—
Maomao scanned her surroundings. There was still no sign of anyone, but before long the pursuers would arrive. In that case—
She found a large tree and dug into the ground. Then she concealed herself beneath the fallen leaves.
"...We're hiding?"
"For now, we're hiding."
"They might find us."
"They probably will."
Being found was only a matter of time. However—
After a while, footsteps could be heard. Rough, crunching sounds trampling through. Each of them carried weapons in their hands.
(Will they kill us to shut us up, or take us hostage?)
Maomao couldn't tell which way it would go.
Even if they were taken hostage, she had no idea what sort of treatment awaited them.
"Just bear with it for a moment."
Maomao whispered to Xiaolian in a low voice. She rolled up the sleeve of her clothes and stuffed it into Xiaolian's mouth.
Crunch, crunch—people drawing closer.
She darted a glance sideways.
(That one's not it.)
The heart of Xiaolian, held in Maomao's arms, was pounding loudly. Xiaolian could surely feel Maomao's heartbeat as well. Despite the already cool, chilly season, their bodies were abnormally hot. It was to the point that she worried steam might rise from them and give away their hiding spot.
(This one's not it either.)
They came and passed by.
The bandits' movements were sloppy. Having just spent their time fleeing alongside the guards, they probably never imagined that without those guards, someone would be crouching in a hole like this.
(Not yet, not yet)
Maomao waited patiently. Then—.
A man wielding a curved blade approached. He had thick facial hair and body hair, shaggy hair, and wore a filthy cloak. He appeared to be in his fifties. Something dangled from his neck.
(This is the one)
There was no knowing if anyone else would show up. So even though she had no idea what kind of person this was, she had to take the chance on him.
Just as the man was about to pass in front of Maomao, she stood up.
"Wh-who are you?"
"..."
Maomao pressed her lips tightly together.
The man pressed the curved blade against Maomao's neck.
(Calm down, calm down.)
Without even a moment to worry about the blood trickling down, Maomao opened her mouth.
"Do you see us, God?"
A passage from the foreign scripture she had once heard from Sparrow. She spoke without stumbling, careful not to bite her tongue.
Maomao stared hard at the man. Glaring would be the right word. Her heart rate surged and her legs nearly trembled, but she could not show it. Pulling off the bluff hinged entirely on how composed she could appear.
"...it is, isn't it."
With a resigned tone in his voice, the man lowered the curved blade.
(...Did the gamble pay off?)
She felt like her legs would buckle right then, but she still had to keep up the front.
"If you were a heretic, I could have disposed of you right away."
(That was close.)
That had truly been dangerous.
Maomao looked at the necklace hanging around the man's neck. It was a simple piece—just a wooden chip dangling from a leather strap. Etched upon it was the same pattern as the scriptures she had been idly reading through.
And the church in the town practiced that same religion as those scriptures.