"No."
The word landed before the door had finished opening.
Zhāo Yàn stood on the threshold of his mother's hut, Wēn Jìng beside him, Han Shān one careful step behind, and looked at Gū Gū.
The stick was across her knees.
Her arms were folded.
Her face was creased with anger.
"No," she said again, in case the first one hadn't landed correctly.
"Mother—"
"You snuck out." Her voice was very quiet. "In the middle of the night. With a wound. To go further into the forest. After I told you—after I explicitly told you—"
"I know."
"And now you've come back with a stranger and a snow leopard and a story I have not yet heard but already find deeply concerning. You want to go to Thousand Fang." She looked at Wēn Jìng with a glare. "And you are?"
Wēn Jìng smiled. "Wēn Jìng. River Valley. My son and I live on the eastern path." She adjusted Yàn Shū on her hip. Yàn Shū, who had been staring at Gū Gū with round, fascinated eyes, waved one small hand.
Gū Gū did not wave back.
