A hunter chases ducks into a village that shouldn't exist, and nothing about the story bends toward spectacle or resolution. Puppet animation moves with the weight of actual wood and cloth, each gesture costing something. The folk tale refuses to explain itself; it simply presents a man discovering that the world has rules older than his hunger, and he has no choice but to accept them. This is a film that trusts silence more than dialogue. Most viewers will miss it entirely.
A greedy hunter sets out on an ordinary day determined to trap a flock of ducks for profit. His plans go terribly wrong when the birds lead him far from everything he knows, pulling him deeper into an unfamiliar wilderness. He finds himself in a remote village where the rules of the natural world operate differently than he expected. What unfolds is a journey that strips away his arrogance and forces him to confront what he's done. The villagers he encounters aren't quite what they seem, and neither is the landscape around him. Reality bends and shifts in ways that feel both dreamlike and inevitable. Crafted through puppet animation, the film carries the weight of an old folktale, the kind meant to teach rather than entertain. There's an eerie, contemplative quality that settles over every frame. The story moves at its own pace, inviting viewers into a space where consequences matter and nature operates on its own terms. This is cinema that lingers, asking uncomfortable questions about greed and respect through the lens of an ancient cautionary tale.