But as he said, savages were savages at the end of the day. Why would they listen to him? After a few tries at convincing them, he felt as though he was playing music to an ox. The savages didn't listen. They feasted and celebrated and even began hunting less. The store of food was being depleted, and fast.
In his stress, Zhang Peng hauled at his hair every day, until he was nearly bald. There wasn't any room left for him to doubt Shi Jia's prediction—the remaining food would last them a month, no more.
"We might have to start saving food."
