Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 1-2 | Page 332

Zhao.
Search.
Far, far away, in a dense green forest somewhere in northern Tibet, a young hunter’s eyes were fluttering
open, away from stormy dreams. Dreams of the Rebels hunting his village while the villagers ran,
haphazardly into the night. Dreams of houses being burned down, and the salty-sweet stink of his father’s
blood.
As the Sun rose, it gave the hunter new strength, just enough to stumble forward. Slowly but surely, he
made his way west, to seek the Sun, the Sun who would know how to counter this evil. He was the
village’s only hope, and he would rather die than come back empty-handed.
Of course, it is a well-known rule that, if your only hope fails, you will have no hope at all, and that in
itself is quite an unpleasant experience.
That, and the fact that the demons were still searching every nook and cranny of China. For him.