In the foothills of the forest, those who walk with an open hand find friends before foes.
With the sun low in the sky, Yasi walked alongside a grain beast towards his yurt. Two Officials stood by the yurt, and Yasi halted. They called out,
“Surrender yer beasts, vagrant! You’ve avoided the realm’s tax long enough.”
Yasi whistled melodically and shook his head, replying, “They are not my beasts to give away.
I do not own any creatures; I guide them.”
One Official scoffed, “Well, if you don’t own ‘em...” and started towards Yasi. Coarse growls sounded nearby, and the two Officials looked to the long grass as lines parted towards them.
Yasi leant on the grain beast and murmured, “Just like the last ones.”
