On the snowfields, Erha with a Horn Helmet hopped and skipped playfully.
The massive Horn Helmet covered Goudan’s entire head with even extra space to spare, wobbling as he walked, but Goudan wasn’t bothered and seemed very happy, feeling it was his trophy.
Sticking out his tongue, he licked the Horn Helmet, feeling contentment inside.
Life these days had been truly wonderful.
Goudan could no longer remember when he had set out, for the concept of time wasn’t something that occupied his mind, but he knew it had been a very, very long time since he last had a full meal.
In the vast, uninhabited and snow-covered Greenland, the three sled dogs were undoubtedly tiny. Looking around, all they could see was snow, where could they find any food?
Occasionally with good luck, they might catch a clumsy Asuka, but they weren’t always successful.
A few days ago, the icily fierce snowstorm had come again, and, driven by hunger and cold, they had to keep moving, fending for themselves. They didn’t expect that under their own "lead," they actually found humans.
I am surely a born Lead Dog!
"Slacking off again," complained Bi Fang.
With a kick, Bi Fang hit Goudan’s behind, almost knocking the Horn Helmet off Erha’s head.
After being kicked, Goudan resumed his hard labor obediently, donning the helmet and braving the wind and snow alongside the other two dogs.
The Horn Helmet was enormous, looking from the front it was almost the size of an adult man’s chest, thus it was still quite comical to see it on Erha’s head.
Ordinarily, Bi Fang wouldn’t want to carry something so heavy, but thinking it seemed almost a pity to discard it, as it was a rather rare trophy, and with the intention of collecting it for decoration, he couldn’t bring himself to throw it away.
"Phew, let’s rest a bit," he said.
He had spent almost the entire night preparing the hunting rewards and had hardly slept. Now, exhaustion was taking over.
Bi Fang sat down and called a halt to the Three Fools’ sledding. It had to be said, they were indeed skilled at pulling sleds, their strength extraordinary.
If Bi Fang had been alone, he would have had to give up more items, limiting the weight to under a hundred kilograms. It was impossible to bring as much as he currently had without their help.
The tired Three Fools stuck out their tongues, not even huddling together for warmth, clearly exhausted to their limits.
They drank some water and ate some meat.
Bi Fang turned to check the sled, which he had hastily made using just ropes for securing. The base comprised six sled boards, paired and tied together at the end, not necessarily sturdy.
On top of the makeshift sled boards, there lay butchered Musk Ox meat, rigid from freezing. It looked less bloody, especially since a square piece of Musk Ox Skin was neatly tied over it with ropes, concealing the contents underneath.
Although it would inevitably end up smelling of blood, once tanned successfully, the skin could be cleaned and would not revert to its original state.
The Musk Ox Skin itself wasn’t rectangular, and Bi Fang had cut the excess parts to make a small vest for the Three Fools. The hem was threaded with a rope and tied tight. Although it wasn’t pretty, it was quite secure.
Seemingly feeling the warmth of the Musk Ox Skin, the Three Fools didn’t resist wearing clothes much.
After resting for a while, Bi Fang whistled, and the man with the three dogs resumed their arduous task.
This chapter is updat𝙚d by freeweɓnovel.cøm.
[It has the feel of labor workers]
[Coolies of Greenland]
[Although, the combination feels a bit over the top]
"Today’s wind is strong; we need to be careful with our direction. Fortunately, because Musk Oxen run slowly, we actually haven’t strayed too far from the valley. I estimate we can return by tomorrow afternoon or the next morning," Bi Fang predicted.
Bi Fang estimated the situation and felt it should be about right.
The group activities of the musk oxen were too erratic; if it weren’t for the need to pull the sled, he might have been able to return today.
Thinking of this, Bi Fang grew somewhat impatient. This two hundred kilogram musk ox had alleviated most of the winter crisis in one fell swoop. As long as he stored this food properly, he wouldn’t have to worry too much about the calorie intake for at least the first two months.
In addition to the musk ox skin measuring over one meter nine in length, it could almost be made into a sleeping bag.
Just thinking about sleeping in a warm blanket, not having to worry about food, made Bi Fang a little excited.
"Phew, the weather is getting colder by the minute, even at noon the temperature could be minus thirty degrees."
Bi Fang pulled the rising long rope and was about to take out his thermometer to check the temperature, but unexpectedly, something smacked him in the mouth.
At first, he thought it was dry snow, but the substance in his mouth showed no sign of melting. It felt more like sand.
"Ptooey, what’s this stuff?"
The wind suddenly increased in strength, and the fine sand, coarser than snowflakes, blew against Bi Fang’s face in the violent wind, chafing his skin raw.
"Where is this sand coming from?"
Bi Fang spat out saliva but found he couldn’t clear it completely—every time he opened his mouth, sand plastered onto him the next second. He struggled to open his eyes in the raging wind, only to find that the moderately obstructive snowstorm had suddenly become thick and heavy.
The sky darkened abruptly.
And in the distance, a distinctly dark long dragon was rolling its way toward him.
Another blizzard?
Bi Fang was baffled by the sudden darkness of the sky, but the next moment he sharply realized something was wrong. If it was a blizzard, then what was in his mouth?
Sand, fierce wind, rolling dragon...
Bi Fang shivered and was so startled he nearly jumped up: "Damn, a sandstorm!"
[A sandstorm? How is that possible?]
[Old Fang, you’re not joking with me, are you? There are sandstorms here?]
The audience was left surprised and puzzled by his outburst, and many were skeptical. To any rational person, how could there be a sandstorm on Greenland?
In his more than ten days on the island, aside from snow, was there anything else?
But as the audience looked into the distance, their doubt turned to shock, as the might of nature once again made itself visible.
The previously clear view was as if veiled by a layer of gauze; the entire sky was dark and dreary, shaded with grey, and accompanied by an extremely pungent dust smell.
Bi Fang was certain that this was no snow but sand, this was a sandstorm!
No, this was even more absurd than a sandstorm.
Bi Fang looked up at the pitch-black sky and swallowed hard.
It was a blizzard and a sandstorm combined!
Ink-black clouds rolled in from the north. In these high latitudes, precipitation was even less than that of the Sahara Desert, but once black cumulonimbus clouds appeared, the weather would change instantly, and the snow would bury everything.
Sand mixed with dry snow roared like a dragon, rolling in, the leading edge towering tens of meters high, the regions covered by clouds jet-black, the other half pure white, the division line as sharp as a blade’s edge.