The creaking sound of wheels echoed as I lay quietly on the wooden cart. Rachel Lan was pulling me along at the front. We’d already asked around—aside from Old Cat’s, there was one more clinic on our side, and supposedly the doctor there was quite skilled.
Under the surprised gazes of the people around us, Rachel Lan continued to pull me along. Transportation is rare in this world; even when it exists, it’s prohibitively expensive—cars are a luxury only the privileged can afford.
I haven’t even seen a bicycle here. Rachel Lan had a carpenter custom-make this cart so she could take me everywhere in search of a cure. I tried to recall what led to my current condition. Like Isabelle Frost, John Chou must have noticed something by now.
Thinking carefully about what happened to Isabelle Frost, I doubt John Chou could sit still. He must have already investigated, but maybe found no solution. Now, things are different—my symptoms are the same. I’m the second one to lose control of my limbs, my speech, and finally my thoughts and sight.
“It’s hopeless, young lady. There’s no cure for this. It’s happened before. You should prepare yourself.”
Soon, after a doctor at the District 13 clinic examined me, we got the verdict—I was beyond saving. Rachel Lan resumed pulling the cart with me, determined to try District 12 and then each district in turn. I knew she’d search all of District 13 within a month.
I had no idea how long we’d been walking. Rachel Lan looked tired; she’d earned quite a bit of money lately. I wished she would rest, but she’s stubborn—once she starts something, she won’t stop until she gets results.
At a small hospital, Rachel Lan pulled the cart and brought me inside. But soon, after a brief diagnosis, we were shooed out. In The Dark Place, this kind of thing isn’t new—it’s considered a terminal illness. You won’t die, but you’re no different from a corpse.
I felt bitter. Those people kept saying I was hopeless, and it only made Rachel Lan angrier. Looking at her back, she was clearly exhausted, but she kept going relentlessly.
Every hospital and clinic we visited gave the same answer—without exception, I was beyond saving.
Rachel Lan held me, her voice tinged with sadness. I couldn't respond with movement or expression—only silently repeated 'thank you' in my heart.
"It's alright, Ethan. Trust me, I'll find a way to cure you. Even if this time fails, I'll keep searching. Even if you lose everything, it doesn't matter—I'll always stay by your side."
I watched Rachel Lan struggle along the rugged mountain path. The outskirts of District 6 were lined with a slum, houses clinging to the hillside.
"Excuse me, do you know where Doctor Oxhorn is?" Rachel Lan asked.
Her question sparked laughter among the crowd. Many described Doctor Oxhorn's location, but dismissed him as a fraud—he often claimed to cure this illness, yet no one ever sought him out, nor dared to. Some said he had a little skill, but compared to hospitals or clinics, he fell far short, and his bizarre methods of treatment were shocking to witness.
Most importantly, many people seemed afraid of him.
Eventually, we reached a small courtyard halfway up the mountain. It was modest, barely furnished. Inside was a man in his fifties or sixties, with bones jutting from his forehead, gray beard trailing to his chest, busy at carpentry. His eyes were cold, yet sharp.
"Are you Doctor Oxhorn?" Rachel Lan asked.
I understood why they called him Doctor Oxhorn. The old man stood and walked over, glancing at me, then at Rachel Lan.
"There's still hope," he said.
A single sentence lit up Rachel Lan's face with a radiant smile.
But what happened next filled me with terror.
"Are you afraid, young lady?" Doctor Oxhorn asked.
Rachel Lan shook her head.
"I'm not afraid, as long as my husband can be saved."
Doctor Oxhorn grunted in acknowledgment, stood up, and went inside to gather his things.
We're going to the Dark Forest—the place I visited before wasn't the whole of it. Surrounding this city, past the mountains and scattered rocks, lies the forest. All of it is known as the Dark Forest.
Soon, Doctor Oxhorn came out and tossed us two fur coats.
"It will be very cold. And to find the herbs we need, we'll have to enter the heart of the forest."
With a long staff, a sharp black dagger at his waist, and a long knife on his back, Doctor Oxhorn looked every bit the hunter. After Rachel Lan put on the fur coat, she used a sturdy rope to tie me to her back. My weight had dropped so dramatically that she could carry me with ease.
"Do you trust me, young lady?" Doctor Yan asked.
Rachel Lan shook her head.
"The only thing I believe is that he can still be saved, right, Doctor? My name is Rachel Lan. What about you? Surely your real name isn't 'Oxhorn'?"
Doctor Yan chuckled and started walking. Then he turned, his gaze suddenly sharp and aged, like an eagle's, glinting with a hidden light.
"You're impressive, young lady. Your heart is full of light and hope. My name is Yan. You can just call me Uncle Yan."
Rachel Lan nodded.
"Uncle Yan, do I need to prepare anything?" Rachel Lan asked.
With a swift motion, Uncle Yan handed her a black, sharp knife in a leather sheath. Rachel Lan caught it, feeling its weight, and hung it at her waist.
"Before we go, let me remind you, Rachel: do not fear this darkness. If you do, everything will be lost."
Rachel Lan nodded, and we set off along the narrow path through the slums.
Soon, we climbed to the top. In the distance lay a vast stretch of black mountains and rocks—there was no sign of the forest.
"We only have dry rations. It will take about a month to cross. We can only resupply once we reach the forest, so one meal a day—can you manage that?" Uncle Yan explained.
Rachel Lan nodded, pushed her hair back, and tied it up. Smiling faintly, she drew the knife and with a swift motion, cut off her long hair.
My eyes widened. Long hair means so much to a woman, but at that moment, Rachel Lan looked more resolute than ever.
"Impressive, Rachel. Ethan Zhang, you're lucky to have such a good wife," Uncle Yan praised.
I couldn't respond—could only stare blankly at Uncle Yan. He laughed heartily, and we began descending the mountain. Though old, his steps were steady and swift, always warning us to watch our footing.
Finally, we reached the foot of the mountain, faced with a field of jagged rocks. Suddenly, Uncle Yan shouted, then laughed after a long moment.
"I can't remember the last time I saved someone. Let's go, Rachel, Ethan. That forest holds no kindness—only the law of eat or be eaten." Uncle Yan warned.