Ten days after the purging of the black sweat, Day 35 of the waterfall conditioning arrived under a moonless, star-choked sky.
In the sheltered nook behind the dark rock stone support prop, the air was sharp and clean. The foul stench of heavy-duty waste scum that had clung to Pei Jing’s skin for a week had been fully carried away by the river. In its place stayed only the dry, pine-scented smell of burning cedar needles and the faint metal tang of freshly sharpened steel.
Pei Jing sat cross-legged near the hearth, dressing an alpine snow hare that Cheng Shan had trapped in a hair-snare on the upper scree.
The small skinning knife in his right hand moved with clean, steady care. He separated the pelt along the ventral line, peeling the white fur back from the belly muscle tissue without nicking the peritoneum.
He reached to sever the thigh tendon. Then, the frozen bone of the hare’s left hock slipped against the flat dressing stone.
The razor-sharp hard steel edge glanced off the small bone, slicing across the distal pad of Pei Jing’s left thumb.
It was a shallow jagged cut, barely four tiny fractions of an inch long and a tiny fraction of an inch deep.
