Train of Oxen
A long train of men and cattle inches its way up a steep mountainside in the pouring rain. Men in straw hats use whips in tired attempts to hurry the herd along. The cattle carry precious rice to be delivered to a town on the other side of the mountain, by the forbidden forest. A tall woman in a red hat and dark blue cloak stands by, supervising. A boulder of a man in straw cloak guards her, looking around cautiously.
"It's only a little further, everyone. Don't let your guard down!" the stately leader shouts encouragingly to the workers.
Suddenly, a man armed with a musket disrupts the succession of the cattle. "Here they come! The Wolf Gods!"
Heads turn in alarm. Sure enough, small white figures on the distant mountainside are racing toward the herd. On one of them crouches a human, masked in red.
The guard beside the woman sets up a red paper umbrella. She directs the nervous cattle herders: "Keep the cattle calm! Keep cool and put the formation together."
Musketeers in straw outfits set up muskets and more paper umbrellas. They wipe the guns, trying to keep them dry in the downpour.
"Don't let the gunpowder get wet! Draw them in closer!" the guard yells. The wolves near the train of cattle.
"Number one, fire!" The leader's voice rings loud and clear. The muskets explode in blue fire, but the wolves dodge easily.
In the foliage below, Ashitaka hears the distant booms of explosion.
"Number Two, fire!" Again, none of the shots hit the white animals. They split up in two directions.
"Those monsters. Their barks are worse than their bite," the guard mutters.
"Those were just the pups. Where is the mother?" She glances around.
Above the mountain pass, a streak of white charges from the ruined trees, its mouth opened for the kill.
"It's Moro!" The tall woman loads her gun. Moro rips through the train, tossing cattle and men alike into the ravine below. "Come on!" the woman shouts bravely.
She waits until the wolf is directly in front of her, then fires. The bullet pierces Moro's white coat, and a musketeer shoots a stream of fire on top of the wound. The blaze engulfs Moro, and she falls down the mountain, the fire diminishing.
"We got her!" the guard beside the leader cries triumphantly.
"She is an immortal god," she replies. "She won't die from something like this." They stare at the hazy ravine below. But back on the narrow pass, wounded men and cattle litter the ground.
"She did some damage," the guard says.
"Move them out," the woman orders.
"What about the ones that fell into the ravine?" he protests.
She ignores the question. "Re-form the ranks!"