They shared the herbal tea and then settled down to sleep on the ground. Some of Vit’via's features, such as her furry buttocks and legs, seemed quite suitable for sleeping on the ground. However, Capillata's back hurt from the hard and cold floor, but perhaps it was the effect of the herbal tea or the smell of blackcurrants and silver grass beside him that eventually led him into a dreamland.

The night was so peaceful, with only the sounds of insects and occasional trout jumping from afar disturbing the edge of his dreams - until the piercing scratching sound that disturbed Capillata every night rang out again.

His whole body was covered in goosebumps, and he woke up suddenly, realizing that Vit’via was not by his side. Capillata got up to investigate, but found the figure in white pajamas standing under a tree at the source of the sound.

He walked towards her, but his footsteps became more hesitant because Vit’via was repeatedly banging her forehead against the tree trunk, making a thick and heavy sound. She seemed to be like a bear marking its territory, lifting up the bark with the tip of her horn and leaving deep scratches - but even bears wouldn't be so obsessed with their territory.

"Vit’via," he tried to call her softly at first, but the girl did not respond. "Vi."

"Don't touch me," Vit’via gasped, trembling voice overflowing from her pale lips. "This is our curse."

Suddenly, she raised her hair, because of the embrace from behind and the warm gem pressed against her chest.

Capillata could hear the low growling sound from behind Vit’via. He didn't know how long it had passed, but she no longer wailed and gradually stopped shaking, sitting down slowly on the ground. Capillata hugged her in his arms.

"Did it work?" His heart was pounding, "Did my gem make you feel better?"

"It's a little better," the exhausted Vit’via weakly responded, "but not because of the divine fire."

"Then why is that?" Capillata's reply made Vit’via wryly smile as she leaned her head against the boy's collarbone. "And what is a curse?" Capillata asked with confusion.

"A curse is the ugly side of fate," Vit’via's eyes glistened with tears in the dawn light. "Sometimes the reason is stupid, or even no reason at all. Some are almost malicious, like the owner of a horn who will eventually be killed by their own horn." She stood up shakily like a newborn lamb, dusted off her clothes and said, "Everyone is born with a curse. Do you think you will be an exception?"

In the faint light before dawn, the two extinguished the campfire, packed their bags, and continued to move forward in the woods.

When the sunlight poured down on the treetops, making the flying pollen sparkle, Vit’via suddenly stopped and sniffed the air. "Do you smell it? The smell of vegetable stew and onion soup?" Capillata imitated her and sniffed the air, and indeed caught a hint of a strange food scent.

The increasingly strong aroma tempted the hungry duo to quicken their pace, and finally, they stepped into a gap in the thicket. In the sunlight, several strange-looking houses surrounded an open space. The houses were supported by wheels, and the walls and roofs were made of lightweight white canvas. A swollen woman ran out of the seemingly portable houses, her furry hooves struggling to run under her raised skirt. She leaned down and hugged Vit’via, pressing the latter's head against her bare shoulder.

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"Oh, Lady Witch," the woman held Vit’via's cheeks with meaty hands and looked around. "You're a day late. Are you okay? I was worried you ran into hunters."

"I'm fine, Mom," the girl broke free from the thick cushion with some embarrassment and pulled her mother towards Capillata, who was hiding behind her. "Look what I found."

The woman's horizontal pupils widened, and her chin with a goatee trembled as she baaed. She clumsily ran back into the bushes, leaving Vit’via and Capillata looking at each other.

"Is this how you show your 'gladness'?" Capillata asked.

Vit’via looked embarrassed as she adjusted her headdress. "You must understand my nanny. She's no longer at an age where she believes in fairy tales or shooting stars."

The "stargazers" came out of the tents and the woods, all with varying degrees of goat features. An old, long-haired brown sheep with a cane stumbled forward to Capillata. The boy tried to read his emotions from his face, but the elderly sheep seemed as if his head was weighed down by the thick, swirling horns on his temples, and he knelt down on trembling knees.

"Is he Elder Babatos?" Capillata asked Vit’via quietly.

"No, that's Old Foy. Elder Babatos is over there," Vit’via gestured towards one of the tents, "but don't disturb him. He's not convenient for visitors."

Many villagers knelt down with Old Foy, but behind the human wall, a tall black-haired goat stood with his furry arms crossed over his chest. "What are you doing, Mr. Foy?" He said arrogantly, his flat nostrils flaring, "If you're obsequious to a young man, you'll be looked down upon."

Old Foy bleated in anger, his voice trembling, "Did you make a mistake, Quine? If the legend is true, we are the naked children - in front of you is the incarnation of the morning star!"

The villagers bent their transformed elbows and worshipped, but Quine still stood tall. "If the legend is true," he snorted disapprovingly, his drooping mouth making his nostrils look even longer and flatter.

"How can you say that? Does this blond lie?"

"Perhaps not. But his gray eyes, like a rat's, tell a different story," Quin said, his arms folded over his worn vest. "Even my clothes are greener than his eyes."

"Oh, Morning Star, oh, 'Vitulus'," after their stalemate, Foy moved his knee and respectfully asked Capillata, "May I ask how many years and seasons you have experienced in your life?"

Capillata looked at Vit’via beside him, who took a deep breath and nervously tightened her skirt. Capillata said to the stargazers:

"I don't know why age is so important to you, nor do I know if I should count it." Capillata thought of his father's year after year of white beard, and his own difficult-to-grow body, "But at least the spring flowers have bloomed dozens of times, that's definitely not wrong."

After he finished speaking, there was silence, until Foy spoke again with a bleating voice, "Whether it's dozens or hundreds of times...but you still have a youthful body. He really is Morning Star Vitulus."

Foy's announcement settled the argument, and the villagers bowed their heads, even the supporters of Quine were intimidated under the foot of Morning Star. Quine, who was isolated and helpless, had to turn to Vit’via, who breathed a sigh of relief, with flat pupils squinting into a slit:

"What a coincidence, Morning Star was discovered by the witch." He raised his lip and showed his front teeth, with a cold sweat on his temple. "What do you say, Vi? After all, you are the only insider among us. Does the book really say that Morning Star has dull gray eyes like a mouse?"

Quine's question made Vit’via shudder. She didn't answer directly, just faced Capillata, lifted her skirt, and slowly knelt down.

"Good! Good! Even the witch says so," Foy, who had been kneeling on the ground, clapped and cheered. "Quine, absurdity and rudeness stop here." He stared at Black Sheep angrily under his white eyebrows, until he was forced to lower his body, and then turned the tearful old eyes to the boy.

"Lord Vitulus, the long journey must have made you hungry. Let the feast of Lá Bealtaine begin!" Then he excitedly opened his arms and bleated.