She Is Not a Witch

Gufia Grasslands, Ram-Horned Tribe Village.

On the snow-covered plains swept by wind and snow, the ground was blanketed in white, reflecting light that became almost blinding if looked at for too long. A low hill stood unremarkable amidst the flying snow.

Located in the north, the harshest times came with the cold winter. The grasslands didn’t produce much food, mostly just pasture grass. When winter snow covered the land, they relied on stored grain to survive.

Since long ago when the beast-folk were driven to this place, most made their living through animal husbandry. To humans, this was a somewhat curious situation.

For instance, the bull-headed tribe raised cattle, while the ram-horned tribe raised sheep. There was an odd resemblance between the herders and their livestock. Merchants or tourists who occasionally came to trade would curiously ask if they considered these animals to be their kin, and if they could bear to kill them.

The answer was that they didn’t feel anything special about it, just like raising chickens or dogs. Some beast-folk, annoyed by the questions, would retort, “Do you humans consider yourselves kin to monkeys?” The answer, of course, was negative.

Rather than saying beast-folk resembled animals, they were actually closer to humans. Some scholars even said humans were just a branch of beast-folk. However, this theory was rejected by many, and historical research proved that during the era of the Beast-folk Empire, there were no human tribes. Humans seemed to have evolved or devolved from another direction.

The snow-covered hill looked normal from the north, but a different scene appeared when viewed from the south.

The north side of the hill blocked the constant cold winds and air currents, while the south side revealed a basin about the size of 10 football fields. The basin was surrounded by fences, with large tents pitched at the bottom near the mountain. Occasionally, smoke rose from the circular openings in the middle of the tents. Outside the tents was a large enclosed area, divided into several sections, each filled with tightly packed sheep.

They huddled together for warmth, their thick wool resisting the cold. Occasional bleats could be heard, like a large group of cotton balls. Some sheep had such thick wool that it almost looked yellow.

Winter days were particularly short. Though the sun shone, it was hard to feel its warmth. As it sank below the horizon, the air grew even colder.

A girl trudged across the snow-covered wilderness. She wore a fur coat with a hood, her collar and cuffs tightly fastened to keep out the chilling wind. Only part of her cheeks and eyes were exposed to the air, stinging as if cut by a knife. Her shoes made a soft sound as they pressed into the snow, revealing the black soil and grass beneath.

Sparse starlight dotted the sky, and a trail of footprints wound into the distance across the snow-covered land.

Dong dong——

At the gate of the basin’s fence, the girl shook two copper plates hanging above, creating a series of clear sounds as they collided. Several dog barks began to echo in the night, their sources indistinguishable.

“Coming,” an old voice called from a small wooden cabin not far inside the fence. The door opened, and an old man with a goatee and thin frame came out carrying a lamp.

“Is that Nya returning?”

“Yes, Grandpa Ketan. Are you alone?”

The girl greeted him as she entered through the opened gate.

“Yes, everyone went out to get some food during the day. They’re all tired, so I’m the only one keeping watch tonight.”

“Is there still not enough food?” Nya asked, shaking off the snow from her body.

“That’s right. In previous years, merchant caravans from the south would come, but with the turmoil in Western Wind this year, many routes have been cut off. If things get worse, we might have to slaughter some sheep.”

“But it’s such a waste to kill those wool-producing sheep. Eating meat is too extravagant,” Nya sighed.

Their ram-horned tribe was small, with only a few thousand people, and weak in strength. Their biggest income throughout the year came from trading wool and a small amount of sheep’s milk. Killing sheep for meat wasn’t actually profitable, because the gamey flavor of mutton wasn’t favored by human nobles and rich people, while commoners couldn’t afford high prices. It was quite an awkward situation.

“Sigh, everyone knows this, but we have no choice. We can’t let people starve to death,” the old man seemed to lament.

“In the past, everyone said those human merchants were greedy, but now that they’re gone, we find it hard to survive. It’s really helpless.”

“Oh right, Nya, you went to the Hundred Tribes Competition. How did it go?”

The result? Nya touched the scar on her body, still feeling a lingering fear. If that axe light had been any stronger, she might not have made it back.

Seeing Nya didn’t answer, the old man thought he had touched on a sore subject and tried to console her.

“It’s alright. It’s good that you came back alive. No one will blame you. After all, our tribe hasn’t had anyone selected in nearly a hundred years.”

“I was selected.”

“Alright, you don’t need to… What? You were selected?” the old man asked again in surprise.

“Yes. Although the process was a bit dangerous, I was still selected,” Nya nodded, a smile appearing on her face, red from the cold.

“Good, good, good,” the old man’s voice trembled with excitement.

“Our tribe has finally produced a student for Emenas.”

“I’ll tell everyone tomorrow. No, tonight. I’ll tell everyone this good news tonight.”

With that, the white-haired and bearded old man took the ram-horned girl’s hand and led her inside, passing through areas storing dry grass and miscellaneous items, past pens full of sheep, approaching the cluster of tents.

“Everyone wake up! Our village… no, our tribe has made it!”

His rough, tree bark-like hand tightly gripped Nya’s wrist, its dim, old bluish-purple color contrasting with her skin. His loud voice rang out like an alarming gong in the night, carrying far.

“Nya, Nya, she’s been selected! She can go to Emenas!”

The excited voice even had a hint of tears at the end. The regrets and long-cherished wishes of many generations were finally realized today.

“What?”

“Really?”

“Big Sister Nya is amazing!”

“Stop sleeping! Quickly get up and make some food. Let’s properly celebrate our returning hero.”

“That’s right, that’s right.”

The previously quiet tent cluster suddenly bustled with activity. Tribespeople ran to spread the news. Some elders wept with joy upon hearing it, both laughing and crying. The young children didn’t understand what it meant yet, but they were happy along with the adults, because it meant they could eat something good again.

Inside a large tent, Nya stood in the center. Her hood was off, revealing two small spiral ram horns. Her young face looked somewhat cute. Elders and crowds gathered in the tent, each coming to see her, excitedly grasping her hand and offering words of blessing and congratulation.

Eyes full of hope and expectation, those hands were all very rough, with calluses, but they gripped with particular strength and weight.