On the spacious road, a robust donkey pulled a fully laden cart, creaking over the frozen hard ground, steadily advancing against the setting sun.
The middle-aged man with a thinning hairline and scruffy beard sat on the cart's shaft, generously stuffing two carrots into the donkey's mouth from the bag slung over his shoulder, ensuring the beast of burden was well-fed and could hasten its pace.
As the sights around them gradually faded and the familiar homeland completely sunk below the horizon, the middle-aged man looked at his daughter nestled by his side and felt not a trace of nostalgia for his birthplace but rather a sense of relief at having escaped a cage.
All thanks to a few reliable and kind-hearted Demon Hunters from Heather Island; otherwise, his daughter, and even his own life, would have been forfeited in the village today.
Meanwhile, inside the carriage.
