The next morning, Everly got out of bed and saw that the world outside had been transford into a blanket of snow.
The elderly were still asleep. When Everly and Misha went downstairs, Karl and Old John were already chatting by the fireplace in the living room.
Having kept to herself for so long, Everly hadn’t seen her grandfather so engaged in conversation with anyone in ages. She smiled quietly, watching the two of them talk. In the kitchen next door, Karl’s wife was bustling about, preparing a breakfast with an Indigenous flair for their two sons. The clatter of bowls and cooking sounds, full of life, occasionally drifted over, softening the tension in her nerves.
Seeing the two girls, everyone greeted them warmly and even asked if they had slept well the night before.
“Absolutely wonderful! It’s my first ti using a pillow stuffed with grass seeds. It’s so comfortable and has this subtle fragrance—it’s really interesting!” Misha gave a thumbs-up, full of praise.
Everly joined in with her own complints.
The delicious breakfast left everyone feeling warm and content. The al was a complete success, both for hosts and guests.
After breakfast, according to the original plan, the three had intended to drive to the source of the Kamass River nearby. But since the snow hadn’t stopped and the weather outside was freezing, they decided to cancel the plan for the ti being.
Old John and Karl hadn’t seen each other in years and had a lot to catch up on. After the al, they continued to sit by the fireplace, playing cards and chatting casually. Everly and Misha, being young, had no patience for these old stories. Luckily, Karl’s children—brother and sister—invited the two girls to go play in the snow. Everly and Misha politely accepted and went outside with the kids to build a snowman in front of Karl’s house.
Partway through, Everly, hands on her hips, admired the snowman she had built. Her gaze wandered, and unexpectedly she saw Quilla, covered in snow, trudging from the direction of the reservation, one step deep, the next shallow.
She had only just returned now!
No wonder Quilla hadn’t been at the breakfast table that morning—Everly had thought she was just sleeping in and missed the al.
Clearly, Quilla had sothing urgent. Upon seeing Everly and Misha at the doorway, she rely greeted them hastily, snow clinging to her hair and shoulders, and strode quickly into the house.
Everly and Misha exchanged a glance, hesitating for a mont, unsure whether they should follow and see what was happening. Just then, they heard a “click”—the tightly closed door had been opened from inside.
Karl, nearing seventy, wrapped in a thick coat and accompanied by his two sons, stepped outside together with Quilla.
His brow was furrowed, his expression slightly grave, as if weighed down by thoughts.
Passing by Everly and the others, the weathered old man paused. With gentle politeness, he told them that he and his family had so business to attend to and would be gone for a while. He encouraged Everly and Misha to feel at ho and not worry.
After speaking, he nodded to Everly, gathered his three children, and hurried off to visit every house in the village decorated with Indigenous patterns.
Everly pretended to be playing in the snow, watching them for a while. She noticed that whenever Karl and his family left a house, the resident inside would soon open their door, put on a coat, grab their keys, and rush out of the house, heading toward the outskirts of the village.
What were they doing…?
Everly was curious. She exchanged a glance with Misha. Since both of them had been outside for a while and were feeling cold, they coaxed and tricked the children into going back inside, leaving them to be looked after by Old John and Karl’s wife in the living room by the fire.
“It’s too cold outside. Misha and I are going upstairs to play for a bit!”
With that, Everly grabbed Misha, and the two of them clambered upstairs, racing into Everly’s bedroom on the second floor.
The view from the bedroom was excellent. Through the window, the two girls could see that the villagers hadn’t gone far. Carrying their keys, the Indigenous residents were heading off toward their respective family farms.
Like Karl’s farm, most of the villagers’ farms were also located near the village, no more than six or seven kiloters away—easy to travel back and forth by pickup truck.
The Indigenous villagers went straight into their barns. Before long, they were herding out several sheep or pigs, shouting and driving the animals toward the village.
Everly and Misha watched from the window for a while, then moved to Misha’s bedroom, which faced north. From this window, they could see the village center clearly. Through the glass, they observed large numbers of villagers driving their livestock from all directions, converging on the village square.
The types of animals varied. So were herding plump ducks, others struggled with turkeys or rabbits, so were driving pigs or sheep, and one villager even had a strong, healthy cow in tow.
In the square, Karl and his family of four stood waiting.
Whenever a villager arrived, they would inspect both the person and the livestock. Once the furthest villagers had arrived with their animals, Karl raised his hand and gestured “follow ” to everyone in the square. Then he turned and walked toward the reservation.
At his signal, the remaining dozens of villagers, along with nearly a hundred animals, began to move. The procession stretched out in a long line, grand and imposing, making its way along the snow-covered roads until it entered the sparsely vegetated reservation.
The reservation was a stretch of uneven, saline-alkaline land. To prevent outsiders from trespassing, the Winton people had erected a wire fence less than two ters high along the edge. At intervals, signs warned: “Indian Reservation – No Entry Without Invitation.”
Once the group entered the saline lands, the hilly terrain quickly hid them from view. By the ti they were out of sight, they had been gone for nearly half the morning.
Everly lingered by Misha’s window, shaping tiny snow figures—from chicks to little turtles—in a long line. As she molded them, she watched and waited for the group’s return, her mind racing with guesses about the Indigenous villagers’ actions.
She had heard that their priest had been performing rituals in the reservation recently. Yesterday, Quilla had left halfway through the day, supposedly to deliver a deford lamb to the priest, which was why she hadn’t returned that night. Now, just back from the reservation, Quilla had called Karl and instructed the villagers to drive so of their livestock to the reservation. This behavior looked very much like they were “offering sacrifices.”
Everly wondered: what kind of ritual was the priest conducting in the reservation, and why did it require so many animals? What did the deford lamb that appeared yesterday signify? And could the Indigenous rituals be connected to the recent widely reported cases of animal deaths?
“Everly, look!”
Lost in thought, Everly felt Misha tug at her sleeve. She turned her head and saw a phone being handed to her.
On the screen was a post from a forum in Craven City—[The Monster Strikes Again: Another Farm Attacked Last Night!]
The poster seed to live near one of the farms and knew the details of the attack very well. According to the report, another farm around Craven City had been attacked by the monster just last night. This ti, the attack was even more widespread, with the animals suffering heavier casualties—and humans were among the targets!
[Poster: Around midnight, Old Gresk was sleeping in his bedroom when he suddenly heard a short, sharp screech coming from the neighboring Dakota Farm. Rembering the recent animal attacks, he beca alert, grabbed his gun, put on his coat, and went out to patrol his farm, fearing the blood-sucking monster might co… Only, just as he reached the barn door, a shadow leapt out of the darkness and attacked him.]
[Poster: (Image) (Image)]
[Poster: Here are photos from the scene where Old Gresk was attacked. It is said that when his family found him, he was barely alive from blood loss and the cold. After struggling to recount the events of the previous night, he passed away.]
[Poster: Gresk’s family then checked their farm. Not only was Old Gresk gone, but all the livestock on his farm were dead—every single one. Chickens, ducks, geese, cows, sheep, and horses—a total of more than fifty animals were all killed!]
[Poster: Apparently, it wasn’t just Gresk’s farm. Two nearby farms also suffered massive livestock losses and serious damage.]
Because human lives were involved, this post quickly rose to the top of the local forum. At first, so casual onlookers questioned it, saying that the monster had been rampaging for over ten days but had never attacked humans—maybe the poster was spreading false news.
However, other forum users soon chid in to back up the original post, insisting that it was all true. One even attached a snapshot showing dical personnel carrying a stretcher covered with a white sheet onto a vehicle.
That was all it took—the entire forum erupted, and the post beca a trending topic.
Everly quickly skimd through the post, then looked at Misha. “Where is Gresk’s farm?”
“I knew you’d ask that!” Misha replied cheerfully. She leaned over and tapped on the phone screen a few tis, opening another highlighted post on the forum. “Look at this one.”
Everly bent her head as instructed. It was another major forum post—[A Personal Inventory of the Mysterious Livestock Deaths at Farms Around Craven]
Several nearby villages and farms fell under the jurisdiction of Craven City.
As the title suggested, this post was a comprehensive summary of the livestock deaths at farms around Craven.
Unlike the other posts, this poster seed to have access to so special data sources. In the post, they shared a map showing the distribution of farms around the outskirts of Craven City.
On the map, the poster marked each attacked farm according to factors such as ti, type of livestock, and number of deaths. Every ti a new incident occurred, the map was updated accordingly. If you scroll to the bottom of the post and select “View Only OP,” you could see the latest version of the map, which now included last night’s attacked farms, such as Gresk’s.
The visual map was far more intuitive than words. Everly studied it carefully and quickly noticed that the monster’s path was moving from south to north. Gresk’s farm was situated between Tunumo Village and the farm where she had seen the police yesterday, about six or seven kiloters from the Indigenous village.
She traced the map with her finger and frowned. “If the monster keeps moving forward, won’t it end up entering the Indigenous farms?”
In fact, the Dakota farm the monster had passed yesterday belonged to an Indigenous villager in the village—it had simply been lucky enough not to be attacked.
However, moving further south, the number of Indigenous farms along the route would increase, making it much more likely that the livestock at Tunumo villagers’ farms would be attacked.
Misha agreed with Everly. “When Grandpa Karl gets back, let’s tell him about this. He can warn the farm owners over there so no one suffers unnecessary losses.”
Everly nodded.
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