The cracks of his sandal soles

Yuk Fu carried two buckets of water on a noodle-thin bamboo pole across his shoulders. He carried the path from the river with him too, gathering in the cracks of his sandal soles. In the time of year when stepping into the open air gave him gooseflesh, Yuk Fu took life from small game for his own. The pelts he dried of the ice dotting the fur tips like ornaments of tears. His wife sewed them crudely together with the fibers of river reeds. By mid-winter a new beast stalked the split-hoof valley, a heavy, hairy amalgamation of every animal, which left toeless footprints on the earth. It killed everything but man. It ran on two legs.