THE AURE SKY

A Hunter's Family

Looking at the disappearing figure, then at the knife in his hand, Pang Dun excitedly waved it a few times, imitating the movements of the old man. He leaped into the air, and with a “plop,” he fell into the water.

“Haha.”

From the cave entrance to the shore of the pool, it was several meters away, but the old man crossed it with one large stride, while Pang Dun watched with envy.

After climbing up the shore, putting on his vest, and securing his leg straps, Pang Dun was in high spirits with the beautiful knife in hand.

He compared his knife to the one his father had given him. The knife his father had made was like a piece of iron—just shaped into a knife form and sharpened. The cowhide sheath was even more crude. But this new knife! Holding it felt mighty. It had exquisite gemstones on it.

The more Pang Dun touched the knife, the happier he became. The blade gleamed brightly, and even when he held it close to his skin, he felt like the sharp edge could easily cut through. It was incredibly sharp.

This knife wasn’t just a regular one; it was more like a short sword—slightly longer than a typical knife. He waved it around a bit more, practicing his moves, before sheathing it and placing it on his waist. He patted the knife with his hand.

He glanced at the iron blade his father had given him, raised his hand, and was about to throw it away, but then thought better of it. He tucked the blade into his waistband and lay down on the ground, content. He stayed there until the sun began to set, then got up and ran toward the village.

The stone drum under the tree, which he was supposed to practice with for three hours every day, was left untouched today. Pang Dun grinned and chuckled awkwardly, then hung the beast-skin pouch from the tree around his neck. He didn’t go back to the village until it was almost dark.

The village was quiet. The hunting team, made up of the young and strong men, had gone into the mountains. Most of the people left in the village were the elderly, women, children, and half-grown boys like Pang Dun.

The sky was overcast, signaling that it was going to snow. When the heavy snow fell, most of the wild animals would hide away for the winter, making it harder to hunt.

Pang Dun ran back home, washed up, changed into clean clothes, and casually hung his shorts to dry in the yard. He grabbed two pieces of jerky and went to his room.

The three wooden houses in the small yard were home to only Pang Dun and his father. His mother had passed away when he was two, and his father spent most of his time hunting in the mountains.

The village’s hunting team was in the mountains for more than half the year, but luckily, everyone in the village was a hunter, and with about twenty households, they all helped each other out. Pang Dun never went hungry, as food was always available at any house—hunters never lacked meat.

Pang Dun had grown up like this. Whenever his father went hunting, it was always Second Sister Niu who looked after him. During the day, they would stay at the village’s eastern end, in Grandpa Du’s yard, practicing martial arts and learning characters. At night, he would sleep in the same bed as Second Sister Niu.

By the time winter came, Pang Dun was about ten years old. He was much stronger than his peers and had a big appetite. He could eat five or six pounds of meat in one meal.

The lighting in his room was poor, so Pang Dun lit an oil lamp. The oil was made from animal fat, and when it burned, it gave off a strong, pungent smell.

Pang Dun took out the knife that the old man had given him, admiring it in the light of the lamp. The knife was about two hand spans long and heavy. The blade gleamed under the lamp’s light, casting a cold, gleaming glow. He tested the knife on the jerky, and it easily sliced through the meat like tofu.