Next, just as Richard had predicted, a series of troubles followed one after another: falling rocks, dead ends, broken bridges...
In this way, Richard traveled slowly and eventually arrived at a village by dusk.
The village was ordinary and not too large, with a few hundred houses scattered around roads arranged in a "field" pattern. Since it was dinner time, plumes of smoke rose from many of the houses. A group of five- or six-year-old children were chasing each other and, seeing Richard on horseback, a stranger, they seemed frightened and ran off all at once.
Richard shook his head and was about to enter the village when he suddenly turned his head instinctively to one side.
A few hundred meters away, on a dead tree, a White Crow took off and flew away.
"Still not giving up, huh?" Richard squinted his eyes and muttered to himself, "After putting so much effort into hindering me all this time, what exactly do you plan to do?"
