Further ahead, a half-eaten adult curved-horn antelope lay in the path of the frost insects. Surprisingly, next to it knelt a juvenile antelope that seemed to have just been born not long ago.
The young antelope called out helplessly and cautiously touched its mother's corpse with its wet nose, seemingly unaware of what the scene before it meant.
"I thought frost insects didn't have a specific preference for food," the half-elf remarked in wonder.
"Indeed, they don't," Bartlett replied. "When food is scarce, they will even eat the bark and leaves of fir trees. At least this kind of 'food' is never lacking in the forest. If possible, I'd rather they eat more trees."
Would the mist still exist without these fir trees? Bartlett didn't know. However, he felt that the thin mist in the Foggy Forest was like a veil, and the fir trees were the bamboo poles that supported it.
"So how do you explain the situation in front of us?" The half-elf pointed at the bleating young antelope.
