A river runs into the interior of the island, just as the doctor described it. Zorro scratches his forehead. He said, along the river, keep going until the landscape changes. And the broad river becomes a plain of swamps and morass. Always stay in the gully between the huge trees, with the aerial roots, there the water is deep enough to be able to sail along with a large boat.

He's killed at least two hundred today, but there are always more to come. At the moment he is watching, with narrowed eyes, as one of those bastards sits down on the back of his hand and bites with relish. Splash - it's flat. Zorro wipes the back of his hand on his pants in disgust. The cattle have eaten their fill.

It's hot, he's tired and in a terrible mood. Slowly, over his anger, he also forgets the fear and grief for his friends. He cooks and not just because the sun stubbornly burns his head.His right hand begins to play with the pommel of Kuina's sword.
He sighs. His gaze falls on the rigid body. Kuina was lying there at the time, too. She died. What would have happened if she didn't have to die. She once defeated him in a sword fight. They both wanted to be the best swordsmen in the world. But an accident ended everything before it even started. At that time Zorro took her sword and carried her dream with him into the distance. "Kuina," he swore at her grave. "I will become the best fighter in the world for you. I will carry your sword until our dream is fulfilled."

The river makes a left turn. It's about 500 mosquito bites later and 5 degrees hotter. Zorro is chewing his lower lip. He is leaning against the cabin wall with his arms crossed. “Smoke.” He shields his eyes from the sunlight.

After a few meters you can already see the hut from the river. It is built on stilts in the river. The front part of the hut lies on a rock platform, a small stone island, in this sea of ​​mud.You can step directly from a ship onto the back porch. "Boys, we're here. No, don't worry, I can do it on my own. Stay where you are." He laughs angrily. Carry the cold steel to the outside is not his motto in life, with which he has done well so far. But you can't look behind the facade, because it looks different in him, he leaves the Flying Lamp with a queasy feeling.

"Hello. Hello, is anyone there?" He almost bumped into an old woman who had just turned the corner. She groans, hits her left breast with her right hand. “For heaven's sake you have to scare me like that.” Zorro sighs, reassured, for a second he almost thought the old woman would fall out of the pines. "I was sent to you by an old doctor. My friends are not doing well and he said you were the right person for such cases." "Such cases?" The old woman squints curiously. She looks at the young man with the unusual green hair.Her gaze falls on the three swords on his belt and for a brief moment her eyes flash. Zorro turns around, apparently so worried about his friends, but he saw that look. A good swordsman has eyes behind, and he's good. The old woman follows him on the flying lamp.

The old woman bends over Sanji. “It's a shame, he's far too handsome for such a terrible fate.” “Do you know what you can do there?” The old woman waves her hand in front of his face. “Come with me.” At a loss, she stops in front of the improvised footbridge over to the hut. "Come on, don't wait long and help me over." Reluctantly, Zorro lifts the misshapen old woman onto the jetty. “Thank you.” He doesn't understand the rest any more, anything about today's men and that everything was different in the past. Shaking his head he follows the woman. He studies the area, you are completely alone out here. His instinct is warning him of something, but there is no one here to be a threat.He really doesn't have to fear the old woman, but still the uncomfortable feeling doesn't want to go away. The moor is shimmering in the afternoon sun. The old woman leads him in front of the hut, stops and turns to the warrior.

“They were stopped, two days, and they are really dead. Nobody survived longer. You can bury them over there.” Her wrinkled hand points to a crippled acacia tree that is clinging to the rock. The tree looks so out of place, with its gnarled branches pointing plaintively at the sky. A cold chill runs down Zorro's spine. "Or take her back with you. Immediately. But I still have room." Zorro grabs the old woman by the collar. "I don't want to bury anyone here. Can you help me or should I change my mind and bury you over there? There's still room, you said." The old woman glares at him, wipes his hands away. "A Morga Master has drawn the thread of her life. There is nothing you can do about it. They will stand still until death.Get out of here now. "" The doc said you could help me. "Sighing, she sits down on the bench on the front porch." This humid climate, "Her face wrinkles even more." Are you still there? “Zorro spreads his arms on his hips.” And it will stay that way. "" Hm, I'm taking a nap now, you can still let the mosquitoes eat you. "She closes her eyes.

In fact, she almost fell asleep, no wonder on such a sunny day, but there is something, a little annoying mosquito won't leave her alone. She laughs to herself. She likes this game. Far too little is happening out here in the swamps. “You are very quiet and skillful.” Her wrinkled eyelids open a little, she examines the face above her. The old hand clings tightly to the sword at her throat. "You think you are always in control, but you will quickly understand, my boy, that you cannot determine anything, because the dice have long been cast.You have just sealed your fate. "Her eyes get big, big and greedy. Zorro stares at the blade. A small trickle of red blood runs from the hand of the old woman over the sword. Kuina's sword. The blood winds like a snake over the handle onto his hand. Startled, jumps he backs up, falls backwards down the stairs and lands on hard rock.
He holds the sword tightly, cannot let go of it. He feels the blood snake crawl along his arm. It is followed by an oppressive numbness. His arm no longer obeys him. Lying on his back, he stares at the blue sky. “What is happening here ...?” He gasps. The snake wraps around his neck and squeezes. The old woman appears above him. "Let go, the more you fight, the worse it gets. Let yourself go." He tries to rear up again. But he has long since lost control of his body. With clenched teeth he leans against the gathering darkness.The sun smiles down on him, the old woman creeps around him like a cat.

He grits his teeth. Again and again the woman tries to lull him with words, to make him submissive, to put him to sleep. With a sweet voice she tells of the end of the fight and that a Niederlang is by no means a shame. She speaks of the easy way and that he should just stop defending himself. The dice have long since been cast. His jawbones pressed together tightly, he stares up at the evening sky. But at some point, when the first stars appear in the sky, he closes his eyes and falls into the darkness. The old woman sighs. "At last. I thought I couldn't get it down." She wipes the sweat from her forehead. “You are strong.” Her gaze slides down his muscular arms. "50 years younger and you wouldn't have to lie out here, you would lie in my bed." She smiles, shakes her head. No, such thoughts are really not appropriate for a woman her age.Sighing, she sits down on the bench, now she can take her nap.