Squeak... creak... squeak...
Outside the window, the rotting blades of a giant windmill slowly turned in the thin night fog, each tug causing the mill’s structure to groan.
In the attic, the light wasn’t much better than outside. Only a few strands of faint starlight filtered through the gri-filled small window and the gaps in the broken wooden boards, barely outlining two short and stubby figures.
Tolin and Gleam, two young dwarves whose beards hadn’t yet tangled into knots, were at this mont cramd unceremoniously into a corner, sitting on so burlap sack pulled from who knows where, their four eyes wide open, staring intently at the Compass in Tolin’s hand.
Inside the guiding Compass, the rune-engraved needle spun around incessantly like a headless fly.
"Hey, Tolin," Gleam’s voice sounded in the dim light, puzzled, "you’re the young master of the Deep Furnace Clan, why are you carrying such a shoddy tool?"
He tried to jab his companion with an elbow, almost knocking the Compass out of Tolin’s hand.
Tolin frantically shielded the Compass, growling irritably, "I’m no young master... but I brought this directly from ho! Though I’m not interested in swinging hamrs, the craftsmanship of the Deep Furnace Family ans even the slag is reliable! Maybe it’s the Guiding Stone outside that’s faulty!"
"Ha—!" Gleam almost burst out laughing at what he thought was the funniest joke of the century, but quickly covered his mouth, shoulders shaking in suppressed mirth, "You make it sound like the Guiding Stone wasn’t made by the Deep Furnace Clan. Tolin, did you bash your head with a mining lamp? That’s the ’Three Races’ Shared Defense’ Guiding Stone! Made of Mountain Heart Pure Gold! The runes on it are old enough to be our great-grandfather’s headstone! If it’s faulty, then hell must’ve frozen over!"
Tolin could only roll his eyes, stifled, unable to refute his companion’s well-grounded reasoning.
Scratching at the unruly stubble on his chin, he struggled for a while before grimly offering another guess, "Then... it has to be that sneaky Foxman we ran into before! Ever since we t her, nothing’s been right!"
This ti, Gleam didn’t disagree and nodded, "That’s possible!"
Unfortunately, their speculations could go no further. Right now, they were stuck in this creaking mill, unable to care for themselves, let alone confront the so-called Foxman.
Outside the windmill, the towering wheat field stretched on under the faint starlight, into the mist and darkness, the rolling waves interspersed with abnormal rustling noises, sounds created by scarecrows and crows.
That’s what had driven them to hide here.
Ordinary scarecrows might not break in, but that didn’t guarantee safety.
Not to ntion the "farr" with the pitchfork who could freely co and go in the mill might return at any ti, and just sitting here and wasting ti itself was fatal.
The longer they wasted, the deeper they’d sink into the lower levels.
The reason they suspected the Foxman was because of this.
The two of them hadn’t even been in the Underground City for a single day, and by rights, they should still be wandering in the relatively safe "border areas," but since eting the Foxman, not only had the Compass broken, they sohow ended up descending to the "Wheat Field Maze."
These were unprecedented anomalies.
"What do we do now?" Tolin asked, face full of despair, voice filled with frustration, "Am I, the future greatest adventurer destined to make a na across the Continent, supposed to rot away in this moldy attic? It’s too tragic!"
"The ’greatest adventurer’ who perished on his second adventure..." Gleam rolled his eyes, "How am I worse off? I’m just here to die with you."
"But I paid you compensation, it’s only natural for a rcenary to die on a mission, right?" Tolin retorted stubbornly.
"Then it’s natural for an adventurer to die on an adventure!" Gleam was too lazy to argue further and seriously suggested, "There’s still so way out, we can try bribing the crows. They’re the eyes of the farm, but not all of them! Do you have any gemstones on you?"
Tolin instinctively felt around his chest and pulled out a pigeon-egg-sized, pure and translucent green gemstone, "Bribing the crows? The rumors from the drunks at the tavern were true?"
"Of course they’re true! Otherwise, why would I bring it up?" Gleam grabbed the green gemstone, feeling its smooth and warm touch, instinctively gauged its weight and imdiately exclaid, "Dang! This is way better than the bag of junk you paid with before!"
He decisively tucked the gem close to himself, while swiftly taking out a smaller, duller, red ruby to hold in his hand.
Tolin watched him switch the gems right in front of him, pursed his lips, but didn’t even flinch, knowing he had a whole bag of greens like that...
Gleam held the lesser ruby, extending his arm out of the tattered window, expertly twirling the gemstone with his fingers, using its weak facets to refract the sparse starlight into the fields.
It didn’t take long before a crow with gleaming feathers swooped over, pecked the ruby from Gleam’s fingertips, and then, flapping its wings, darted toward a certain direction within the wheat field!
"It’s that way, follow it!"
The two slid down the ladder straight to the mill’s base and dashed out.
Gleam took the lead, the two bright hand axes spinning in front of him like a blur, and a scarecrow popping up from the sheaf was imdiately shredded into pieces of withered straw.
Rustling sounds promptly rose from all around the wheat field.
"This way!" Gleam quickly discerned which direction the crow disappeared to and charged ahead.
Tolin swung his heavy Warhamr closely behind, smashing another scarecrow coming from the side into pieces.
"Hey! Are we really supposed to follow that blackbird and find a way out?" he asked between breaths as he sprinted.
"Not for sure!" Gleam didn’t turn his head, "So crows belong to the farm, so don’t, it’s a gamble!"
"What are the odds?"
"Fifty-fifty, either it is or it isn’t!"
"What kind of odds are those?!"
The two raced desperately through the maze-like wheat fields, with the rustling sounds never far behind. Suddenly, the thick wheat stalks vanished, and the ground beneath them suddenly dropped away—they had sprinted to the edge of a steep cliff!
Below lay an unfathomable darkness, while behind them were the scarecrows closing in!
"Was it a bad crow?!" Tolin’s heart sank halfway.
"No! It’s a good crow! Very good!" Gleam suddenly pointed across the chasm.
That crow was leisurely perched on a twisted branch of a dead tree on the opposite side, the ruby still in its beak, its pitch-black eyes watching the two of them.
Across the chasm, the faint outline of sparse, low wheat fields could be seen, marking the boundary area’s signature!
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