◎Roasted dill, blanched dill, hollow turnip stuffed with dill condiments...◎
Bucket was silent for a moment before the girl's weak response came: "I will consider it."
Oya did not answer immediately, and seemed to be still thinking about the truth or falsehood of her words, but Dill could hear her wavering from the approaching footsteps.
Using emotion, reasoning, and a whole set of coercion and inducement is more than enough to deal with a little girl who has never left the valley.
"Dill..."
Shut up, don't call this name. Dill suddenly felt a little lucky that Oya couldn't see herself in the barrel, because she was really not good at acting.
The girl scratched marks on the top with her nails, and her previous joy was dried up by her anger again. Her fingers caressed the scratches on it, imagining it as Oya's face... Her thoughts became blurred in the claustrophobic space. It became more and more brutal, like a beast biting in a cage.
Suddenly, a strong force pushed the barrel back. Dill used her hand to hold the barrel in time to prevent a big bump on her head. However, the barrel also rolled down and finally hit the wall, making Dill dizzy. .
Oya's screams were no longer as sweet as before, but Dill had no time to enjoy them because she heard a more familiar voice...
Turnip! !
The quack of the goose was mixed in with the woman's scream. You can imagine how the beautiful big red mouth pecked the opponent's vital parts.
Dill struggled to push open the lid, but the nails were firmly nailed in. She could only use her nails to dig holes in the lid for breathing.
After all, the other party was a big witch. She quickly recovered from the sneak attack. She only heard Turnip screaming. Dill's heart tightened, and then she felt an object hit the ground and hit the wine barrel. She now wanted to kill Oya. Yes.
Fortunately, soon, the flapping of wings calmed my anxious heart a little.
"Turkish..."
Just like the three moon phases of the Moon Goddess, the familiar also symbolizes the side of the Moon Witch. Dill's duplicity just now contrasts with the angry big white goose, and Oya is not clear about it.
"Unfortunately, if your goose is half as docile as your tone, I will consider it. It seems that the disobedient beast must still stay in the cage."
Dill heard the sound of her clothes being slapped hard, but unfortunately she couldn't see how embarrassed the other party was, and the gentle disguise had long been shattered. Dill could hear the obvious anger in her words. Once again, the big white goose proved that he was more capable than his master.
"Who would have thought that a white goose can have the courage and ferocity of a golden lion. You were indeed taught by Amber. It's a pity that if you want to learn to walk on four legs, it will only look stupid."
"He who angers a lion is also foolish."
Dill thought about the other person's fear of Amber in his words, although she didn't understand why the lazy witch who retired with a big orange cat was called a golden lion. If I can go back alive, I must take Amber to talk about her legend.
Oya didn't have the patience to persuade her anymore, so she could only say the next sentence coldly:
"The blood of the earth is clearly flowing in your body, but your eyes are confused by the moonlight. Before arriving at the Junli River, you have enough time to think carefully. I would like to remind you that my Highness will never lose to you even if he is angry. Luna."
What are you thinking about? To think that you cost me my last chance to say goodbye to Amber? You arrogant piece of shit.
Oya's leaving footsteps stepped on Dill's heart, and she silently counted until the distance was far enough.
"Turnip...thank you,"
Although Turnip was exposed too early, the overturned wine barrel automatically rolled down to the uneven ground. Dill listened to the wheels turning underneath and could clearly see the situation outside through the holes.
The open side of the carport is covered only by a curtain, and life flows into the hole with the breeze. The only thing Oya did wrong was to return the turnip to the dill, and return the courage and faith to the one-month witch.
Blessed by the moon god, I hope this barrel will be stronger.
Dill turned sideways hard and shouted at the same time: "Turkip! Feifei."
A leap of faith! ! The cry of Chuuji popped into her head.
The carriage was driving so fast, just as Dill thought, no one would notice a small wooden barrel rolling down from the top.
But how unlucky can a person be when he is unlucky? Sand stuck in the water when drinking, stones stuck in the teeth when eating? Dill said it was all trivial.
She has been challenging the bottom line of bad luck today.
The small wooden barrel carrying the sixteen-year-old girl did indeed fly out of the carriage smoothly. Dill couldn't help but burst into cheers, and even said goodbye to Oya in her heart. It would be best not to see each other again. As long as she doesn't get a concussion from being hit. , or spit in a bucket, everything is easy to say.
But Dill was happy for only a few seconds, and the feeling of not touching the ground for a long time made her suddenly feel bad.
Dill stretched her fingers out of the holes. There was no soft turf or pricking gray stones. The swift wind almost scratched her fingers.
No way-
She hurriedly curled up her body and prepared to land from high altitude.
If Dill knew that the carriage was driving through the mountain road, he would definitely not be clever and stay in the wine barrel to marinate all night.
But maybe the goddess has not given up on this clever little believer. Just when Dill thought she was going to be thrown into a bucket of meat paste, the sound of wind in the hole disappeared, replaced by crackling, which sounded like the sound of breaking branches.
The barrel's falling speed slowed down rapidly, but it also began to overturn left and right. Dill inside felt like a puppy being stuffed into a bag, and the rapid water was trying to topple her. She just soaked in her sour stomach, tossing and bumping all the way down, and could only cover her mouth tightly to prevent herself from biting her tongue, and on the other hand, she was afraid that she would see blood if she opened her mouth.
Just when Dill was about to be knocked into a bucket of pickled eggplants, the barrel's stumbling journey finally came to an end. The dead branches underneath made a slight snapping sound, as if it had reached a dangerous balance.
Her bad luck finally came to an end. There was a whole forest under the cliff to cushion the falling barrel, but Dill still didn't dare to act rashly. The net woven by countless branches was quite fragile. If she was not careful, she might have to repeat what she had just done. thing.
Dill was crouched in the barrel without daring to move, and she could faintly hear the croaking of geese in her ears.
In my mind, the turnip turned into a little angel, opening its white wings to welcome me.
A hint of coolness penetrated into her nose. Dill reached out and felt the hole for breathing. She tilted her head and leaned over. The breath of moist grass instantly filled her nose, and a refreshing coldness hit her face.
She is still alive!
The joy of surviving the disaster was a heavy blow to the head, and Dill did not recover for a long time. It was not until Turnip flapped her wings and pecked at the holes that she realized that she had escaped from danger.
"Oh, Turnip...I'm proud of you."
Dill tasted the joy of surviving the disaster and kissed the little red beak stuck in the hole. Turnip was still trying to free her little witch from the wooden cage. Although its toothed beak and majestic wings could not create any effect, Dill knew that this big white goose that was despised by everyone had always been a hundred times braver than its witch.
"Turnip, that's enough." Dill couldn't bear to have her big white goose injured again.
She stepped on the bottom of the bucket with her feet, pressed her head against the lid, and began to exert force.
At first, she didn't dare to use too much force, fearing that the bucket would be broken into several pieces accidentally; besides, with her luck, even if there was water below, there would be a man-eating crocodile living there.
Dill was sweating on the top of her head. On the one hand, she was afraid. On the other hand, the top cover was firmly nailed down. The quality of the wooden barrel was very high. She was afraid that she would starve to death inside before falling to death.
Sweat mixed with mud filled the airtight small space, emitting an unpleasant smell. Dill knew that she must be in a very embarrassed state now. Mida had dressed herself up like a little fairy in the morning, but now she must look like a refugee. who, stowaway—
The withered lily fell silently to the ground, and the dill curled up painfully in the barrel.
Ah, yes, a stowaway, a runaway traitor, left the ceremony without saying goodbye, and disappeared without a trace along with a distinguished guest from Junlihe. She knew that she was an ex-con and a restless factor in the eyes of some great witches, and Veranika's unfriendly attitude reflected her own lady's feelings.
Even if she escaped from the barrel, how could she go back and face the questioning of a group of witches? What would Amber think? She couldn't stand in front of him forever.
Oya is right, she is damn safe inside,
The barrel that imprisoned her became her only safe haven.
Dill let out a long sigh of relief.
No wonder Junlihe sent Oya here. Perun refused to betray Amber before leaving. However, this wily witch only used a small amount of potion to plot her own way to death and became her meal.
A girl in a witch robe wanders around and will be caught by the church and burned at the stake at any time; she can also choose to go back and be tied into a sack by the ruthless witches and thrown to the bottom of the river.
Even if you are lucky enough to survive wandering, when the time comes, the angry goddess will turn the traitor into a delicious goose. Then he will die not at the hands of knights and witches, but on the plates of hungry travelers.
Fire-roasted dill, blanched dill, hollow turnips stuffed with dill condiments... all kinds of wonderful ways to die took turns in the girl's rich imagination, which can be described as Manchu and Han torture.
She had obviously escaped from Oya, but she could still hear the other party's gentle and mocking tone, casting a curse on herself: Yes, leave the barrel, you stupid girl, I said only the Junli River is yours destination.
The girl covered her ears and shrank her head, turning a deaf ear to the anxious croaking outside, and immersed herself in the wooden barrel to make her pickled dill.
The call of the big white goose gradually lengthened into the chirping of birds and the barking of dogs outside the window. She seemed to be huddled in her stuffy little bed, listening to the fan running and the sparrows jumping up and down on the wires at the window edge.
Just a ridiculous afternoon dream.
She huddled tightly in the dark bed, thinking of the plum soda in the refrigerator. The sweet and sour taste was the taste of her hometown, the aftertaste of nostalgia, and...
Amber's wine.