When they set off the next day, Li Meng was still somewhat unhappy.
She still didn't want to deal with those stinking ogres.
"Didn't sleep well last night?" Zheng Qing looked at the gloomy little witch and waved a hand in front of her eyes, "Hey, stick close to your sister later, and don't get distracted... Ogres have a good aim with stones, watch out for your head!"
The little witch gave him a melancholic glance.
"Last night I had a dream," she glanced around, deliberately lowered her voice, making it sound ethereal due to its shifting nature, "a terrible, terrible dream. I saw death, ravens, withered big trees..."
"You don't have the talent for witnessing, right?" Zheng Qing interrupted the little witch's murmuring to confirm.
Li Meng pretended not to hear the warlock's skepticism, continuing in that dream-like tone, "Only distancing oneself can avoid death... The raven's cries mingle with wind-blown sand, barren, desolate, piercing right into my lungs!"
