The next day.
The mud around the volcanic river had already become soft and wet due to the heavy downpour of rain.
The trees on the other mountain were swaying slowly in the chilling wind.
Inside the forest, there was a large gray tent set up on an empty ground between the trees.
Several people wearing tight white clothes were adding wood into the campfire at the side and were rotating a metal skewer over the fire carefully. The fragrance of meat being roasted permeated the air.
It was still early in the morning during sunrise. White mist was all around the surroundings.
The opening of the tent was opened by an old man that had a long, white hair and had a cold expression on his face.
He wore white clothes befitting that of a swordsman with a short black dagger tied to his belt.
Two of the people beside the campfire immediately approached the old man.
"Elder Gill, we lost another member of our family yesterday," the woman on the left reported.
