"Woo woo woo... woo woo... woo!..."
The dim candlelight flickered in the black tent. And the woman's crying voice, along with the candle flame that was about to burn out, gradually grew smaller. She had cried for too long, tears like a dried-up spring, finally unable to flow any longer.
"Alright. Miyava, don't cry anymore! Since you wanted to see me, you surely wouldn't just keep crying, would you?"
Xiulote stood quietly in the tent, speaking in a deep voice. His clothes were neat, his face serene, yet his body was tightly held by the woman, like a tree hugged by a koala. He lowered his head, only seeing the woman's head buried in his embrace, tears and snot flowing continuously, even smeared over his ritual robe.
"Woo... woo!... I'm... so scared... light... take me... away!..."
Miyava raised her head, her eyes blurred and empty. Her voice was crisp and clean, her face showing timid fear and dependence, like a little girl lost and wandering away from home.
