Deeper into the real Shadowmoor, waves of fishy, salty mist hit the air, which was so thick that it was even harder to breathe, and the fallen leaves on the ground were covered in a thick tussock on which the horse's hooves trod near-silently. Dill didn't feel the magic, but she was under quite a bit of pressure. She was glad she'd talked Mrs. Lester out of it; the double suffocation of deprivation of sound and sight would have driven every apprehensive visitor mad.
Dill was a little skeptical, though. Did witches really live here?
The bark of the trees here was so black it could be ground into carbon powder, and the long, pointed blades of grass glowed an eerie dark blue. From a distance, they looked like poisoned tongues hanging from the ground; it was horrifying, and as Dill picked at a leaf to inspect it, her nose caught the scent of damp and rot, and as if in a trance, she was back in the Moonlight Forest of Miller's Hollow, her savagely beautiful hometown.
Pushing aside the grass blocking the front is like paving away the dark clouds and then revealing the moonlight.
The clear silver glow fell on the young girl's blank face, and there were elves in the air that transformed into dreamlike glowing fires to guide the Moon Witch.
Dill couldn't help but take a step forward, her feet stepping on the woven blanket of corduroy, and she saw several familiar slim figures dancing in the moonlight.
"Dill, you're here!"
"Come here!"
"We've prepared lots of food and drinks!"
One of the brown-haired, blue-eyed maidens greeted her happily, dressed in the Crescent Moon Sacred Clothes, as white and flawless as she remembered, and the maiden smiled as she handed Dill a bowl of wheat paste filled with fruits and honey, the sweet scent of home.
The big white goose in her arms flapped its wings warningly, and Dill didn't take it or dismount.
She looked straight at the rotting rags under the pure white dress robes, the bald old hermit showing seven withered yellow teeth, his hand a mud cake pressed and wrapped in long, dead blue leaves, and Dill could clearly see the wriggling earthworms and insect tentacles inside.
The other ragged hermits took up the disk of stone as big as a table and chairs, each with a big smile, waiting for Dill to join them in their "banquet.".
The Moon Witch didn't have the courtesy to drive the black horse straight forward, and the hermits, seeing the situation, fled around like rats at the sight of light.
This is a magical illusion. If it weren't for her divine bonus, she would have eaten those disgusting things.
But since when, exactly? Dill was a little frightened and angry. She subconsciously took a few deep breaths. The breath of the forest humidity is still suffocating.
Dill reached out and probed the thick fog, they were like the witch's gray robes, covering her tracks and driving away uninvited guests.
I don't know which wise man once said: the older you get, the more you understand the evil witches in fairy tales, who avoid the world's troubles and move to the uninhabited forests to live in isolation, and when a prince and a princess use the forest as a backyard to come in and disturb her, the witch will want to turn them into animals that can't speak.
Dill knew it all too well, when she was cowering in her nook enjoying some happy alone time and suddenly someone kicked in the door to her room, whoever it was, she'd want to give the other person an Avada to claim her life.
Thinking about this, the young girl slowed down her hooves, the big white goose flapped its wings and landed on the ground, she also got down from the black horse.
Dill found a fairly clean clearing, and she drew down the linens from her horse's back, just enough to pad the ground as a blanket.
She put down the cupboard and took out the small pots and bowls inside; even a small copper cauldron that sank as heavy as a child's [Infinite Space B] was already able to hold utensil-type items.
Along the way, they trade with the herdsmen for more than just food; the nature of the cupboard ensures that they are always fresh. A large pink shoulder of lamb coated in olive oil and hairy chili peppers is placed in the bottom of the pot with oranges, mint, and chunks of potatoes.
The cauldron quickly rolled to a bubbling, fragrant, hot smell that dispersed the cold fog.
After everything was done, Dill took out the glazed bottle, Amber's birthday gift, at this time there is only a layer of residual liquid at the bottom of the silver cup to fill up the whole bottle, and soon in her hands was a whole bottle of fresh, crisp, and clean plum wine.
The white goose nestled contentedly in its owner's arms, its long, sharp orange beak holding the remains of a few turnip leaves; the black horse was happily weaving through the forest, and Dill could see its shiny black velvet mane; its confidence in itself had risen to a level no human could comprehend when comparing itself to the red horse under Mrs. Lester's nose.
As the cauldron opened, the famous dish of the witch world, "Sisters of Plenty," was soon complete!