Orman himself stuck with Gara, exploring deeper into the forest.
By the time Gara's cloth pouch was full, some Liners had already returned for a second trip. They looked far more exhausted than the first time.
"Isn't there a river below? Near the villagers' herb fields, there should be one, right?" Gara asked, puzzled.
"There is," Orman nodded, "but the villagers here believe if the villagers from Bota Village draw water from the same spot, their supply will be contaminated. We Liners have to follow the same rule if we don't want to clash with the locals."
"But the river flows downstream anyway. What's the difference?"
"It doesn't matter. They think it's a curse. The important thing is they never take water from the same place."
Gara could only shake his head. Superstition existed everywhere.
Before long, they reached the foot of the mountain. A few Liners lounged in front of a shed or under the trees, while others prepared to climb up again.
