“Why not just ask them to let you play, Pandit?” Mannat asked the small boy sitting next to him on the fallen tree, feet dangling freely in the air. I say small, but the boy was definitely larger than Mannat in both shape and size, even though they were of the same age.

The boy raised his head and looked straight toward the blue lake, which was reflecting an even vibrant blue sky, and shook his head. “Brother won’t let me. He says I’m too young.” He said staring at the older boy standing near the lake.

Mannat followed the boy’s sight and watched Pandit’s older brother, the little butcher, furiously waving his arms in the air. He was shouting, probably asking those in hiding to come out. He had been searching for quite a while and had failed splendidly in finding anyone, even the one hiding right next to him.

They were playing hide and seek and the two had been made to sit out of the game, both for different reasons.

“He is not wrong,” Mannat said causally, causing the boy to nudge him on the shoulder.

The boy was definitely stronger than Mannat, and the nudge almost sent him reeling off the log. Thankfully, the boy managed to grab hold of his wrist in time. In the moment of weightlessness, Mannat thought he saw something in the woods behind them, but he lost it just as easily. It was a dark shape: a villager, perhaps? That made sense since their village was in that direction.

Pandit pulled him back. The two found their hearts pounding even after they had settled down on the tree log. It got awkward between them. Who told the boy to get physical? By the time their hearts calmed down the little butcher had somehow found one of the two girls in hiding, but he still had a long way to go. 

“We are both six years old, you know — the same age,” Pandit mumbled out loud, getting Mannat’s attention. “Yet they let you play with them.” he finished with a trembling voice.
Mannat watched him break the dry-lifeless branch he was holding in two. There wasn’t any malicious intent behind his actions, only frustration. He even looked confused when staring at it.

Mannat grabbed the bark from the puzzled boy’s hand and threw it in the lake’s direction. It plopped to the ground a few feet away; so much for trying to make it go all the way to the pond. When he looked back the boy was staring at him, holding a frown.

“Not anymore though.” He answered, watching the boy’s brown eyes dilate with his emotions. “They learned they can’t bully me so they stopped asking me to play with them.”
Recognition passed by the boy's eyes and he gave a mindless nod. “Then why do you ask me to come here every day?” he asked, curious.
“The woods,” Mannat said.
“What about the woods?”
“I don’t know, yet.”

The woods were all around them. They were shallow and light behind them, but deep, dark, and haunting in the other directions. Once lost in its depths, the chance of one being found was next to none. There had been a few such cases, but in a small village like theirs, even one missing person would have been enough to make everyone vigilant.
The woods were scary, and no matter how young or old, every child gathered there thought the same, even Mannat.
Yes, even he did; although he was also curious about its depths.

Actually, he could feel something calling him from there. The sensation was nothing new, but it was stronger out there at the village boundary. He was conscious of it even at home, but out there in the woods where the darkness was only inches away, the cold itching sensation was naked and personal.
That’s why he tolerated being berated by the older kids; so he could be out there, where the village boundary and the woods collided.

“Say,” the boy spoke first, again, like always. He knew the strange green-eyed boy might answer him, but he wouldn’t be the one to start a conversation. That was just not him.
“Can I join you in the smithy?” The boy said, surprising Mannat; he wasn’t expecting it to come from Pandit.

Just one more year — his father was going to train him once his general fitness reached the maximum level. He was expectant. He had seen his father mold unbelievable strong metals into various shapes. Soon he would be able to join Raesh in the shop. But why was Pandit pleading with him?

“You don’t want to become a butcher?” He asked.
The boy vigorously shook his head. “Absolutely not,” he said squirming on the log; he knew it would be difficult. “Mother has been forcing me to skin the small game that brother catches every now and then with my father, but I don’t want to make a living out of it. I love animals too much. I don’t want to hurt them, or eat them.”
Mannat nodded and then pointed at a nearby flower. “Then what about plants? Don’t you love them too? So you won’t eat plants, either?”
“But they aren’t alive.”

“Yes, they are,” Mannat argued. “Plants do breathe. Just because they can’t speak or resist violence doesn’t mean they are not alive.”
“Not again, Mannat. I don’t want to have this talk again. Just tell me if you’ll ask your father or not.”

The boy looked like he would pounce at him if he said no. Mannat considered the option and asked, “How’s your general fitness?”
The boy pumped his chest up in confidence. “It’s at maximum level.” He said.
Mannat expected as much. The difference in their strengths was apparent. The boy continued, straightening his back to give strength to his words. “That is why I’m asking. I’m really close to getting five points in dexterity and once that happens my mother will be at my neck, and I won’t have a choice then.” Finished saying, he grabbed Mannat’s shoulder. “You are my only chance!”
“Alright, alright,” Mannat shrugged his shoulder and the boy pulled his hand back.
“How many points do you have in strength?”
The boy gave a big smile and put five fingers up —three on his right and two on the left— and announced haughtily, “—seven points.”
Mannat smiled back but didn’t correct him. “You need ten points in strength, however and five points each in both dexterity and constitution if you want to become any good with the hammer. At least that’s what Raesh says.”
The boy’s face fell. “So Your father won’t—“
“He’ll agree.” Mannat interrupted him. “He will be training me once my general fitness reaches the maximum level, so I can meet the requirements. You can work out with me on your strength. But your mother won’t her darling son play with the town freak.”
“Don’t say that! You are not—”

“Oye, little brother, tell me where everyone is hiding. I’m done.” A frustrated voice called from the direction of the lake. Pandit flinched. The two looked at each other and then straight ahead —little butcher was running toward them. He appeared in front of them punching straight through a thin bush. Mannat didn’t have to look to see the path of destruction he had laid in his wake, making fool of his hunter training. He even had a reed dangling from his mouth like a true ruffian.

Pandit cringed and Mannat looked no happier when the young boy, almost thirteen that year, planted a foot on the tree log right between the two.

He pulled the reed out and said, “So?” Eyebrows raised, he held a toothy grin. It was not a request. Pandit opened his mouth to speak, but Manna took over before him.

“He’s not telling you anything, little butcher. “

“I didn‘t ask you freak. And you,” he bent over Pandit, who folded upon himself, scared of the teenager. “I told you not to interact with him, didn’t I, huh? Are you asking for trouble? Do you want a beating?”
“N-no, sir,” Pandit answered, shoulders slumped.

“N-no?” Little butcher shook his head. “Do you hear yourself? What would father say if he heard you mumbling and stuttering like a fool?” Little Butcher knocked on Pandit’s forehead when he didn’t answer and got right at his face when he looked up. Little butcher raised his eyebrows, questioning him and giving a snort when Pandit dropped his head in fear. He didn’t push it however and backed up to stand straight when Pandit showed no sign of retaliation.

“Forget it.” Little butcher said, looking away. “Just tell me where everyone is hiding, and I—“

“Quai eggs, two for the both of us.” Mannat offered, but the larger boy spat on the ground upon hearing the atrocious offer. He didn’t say anything though, not to Mannat. They had bad history and he didn’t have the upper hand. Clicking his tongue he decided to negotiate.

“Two, one for the both of you little shits,” Little butcher offered in a practiced manner, but Mannat declined by shaking a hand in his face.
“One for everyone I find,”
“Good,” The butcher pounced at the offer when he heard one, grinning from ear to ear, thinking he had won that bout. That’s when he heard a snicker from somewhere behind him and remembered the number of those in hiding. There were four in hiding, and he had just gotten fooled again.

“Stop, listen—” Little butcher tried to salvage the situation, but it was already too late. His nightmare had already gotten up and started pointing fingers and doing his part of the deal, leaving him helpless.

“I can see you, Soman. Your skirt is showing. Larkar is hiding in the tree crowns. Don’t think I can’t hear you sniggling.” Suddenly leaves rustled as a large and buff boy appeared high up in the trees, standing upon a thick main branch a few trees away. He slowly descended down the tree while Mannat continued.

“I think Raja got tired and went back home, and Pathar’s is hiding in the lake. I don’t think that’s a good idea. Someone should check on him.”

Soman came out of hiding just in time, her skirt fluttering behind her, and ran toward the lake. She kneeled on the edge and started moving a hand in the water. A moment later, a lanky boy plopped out of the Lake and took a deep resounding breath.

“Unbelievable,” Little butcher mumbled. Pathar had a large set of lungs, but he was not good enough to last ten long minutes! What If something had happened to him? There was a lot of stupidity involved in his act.

“You really are a freak aren’t you?” Little butcher spat on the ground.
“And you make for a lousy hunter,” Mannat replied without backing down against the older boy. Sparks ensued at the point their stares met. Things could have devolved into banter, but others' complaints settled it for the time being.

“That’s cheating.” Pathar cried between coughs; his voice barely reached the three. Soman was right beside him, rubbing his back, and spoke after him. “No one said anything about asking for help.”

Little butcher kicked the log in annoyance and shouted back, “He wasn't helping me; I’m paying the freak.”

“I call it work,” Mannat said. “And don’t forget about the eggs or I’ll be knocking on your door later.”
 
The little butcher grunted and then sprinted away toward his group of friends who were ready to take him on. He picked up twigs and dirt and dried leaves on the way to throw at the ruffians, but they were ready to receive him.

“Hey!” Little butcher shouted when Pathar threw mud at him.

He tackled the dripping boy to a patch of grass where they wrestled in a rough manner. Pathar managed to get away from him but little butcher caught him in the lake, where they floundered and splashed water like two fishes swimming upstream.

Little butcher somehow managed to get his arm around Pathar’s head. Try as Pathar might, he couldn’t get free; he didn’t tap out though. The boy might have lacked strength, but he had guts. He did the next best thing and pulled little butcher underwater.

It could have gotten dangerous, like always, but little butcher was not stupid and let the lanky boy go almost instantly. They both came out to the surface one after another. Little butcher was fiery and chased Pathar who ran laughing loud.

They kept to the lake’s edge, however, and didn’t dare venture deeper. In the end, Soman got angry, so Larkar went and dragged the two out of the water, and made them sit on the grass facing each other.

“It’s no fun playing with you,” Pather complained after they had settled down comfortably. “This time I was sure to be the last one found.”
Little butcher snickered and threw a handful of grass leaves at the boy, a few of which stuck to his head and face. He laughed while Pathar grumbled and said, “Then you would have drowned, fool.”

“Really?” Pathar asked, disbelieving what he had heard. The others nodded, causing him to scratch his head and give out a sloppy grin. “I didn’t think about that.” He said and everyone started laughing.

A little while later the three had gotten a fire going in front of the log.
 
Mannat ignored the group; his thoughts captured by the woods surrounding them. The lake though distant from the village, had a well-trodden path connoting each other. The path had been etched so deep over time that even a blind could have found his way back using it. However, there was no denying that the woods were dangerous. Beasts lived in its depths. It was a scary place in the day, but at night it was a place of horrors. Mannat didn’t fear the woods much, but he didn’t want to get lost inside it either. He was way too smart for that. 

However, something was different that day. Mannat had a feeling that someone was watching them from the woods, keeping an eye on them. It was just a feeling, and it felt very similar to the cold sensation that had him curious. It didn’t feel human to him, but nothing in the woods felt human, even if they were.

“Here,” Someone poked Mannat on the shoulder, pulling his mind from the woods. When he looked, little butcher and Pathar had their clothes off and spread on the ground next to the fire, while they were arguing about something.

Sharmilla sat right of him, holding a piece of honey bread for him. She was a younger girl, only a year older than Mannat. She and her sister, Chahhat both had black hair and round faces. But where her sister was well endowed, she was… young. Sharmila was one of the farmer’s daughters, one of four, two of which had already married; one even had kids! That doesn’t matter; what matters that when Mannat looked at Sharmilla a blush grew on her freckled face, darkening the spots so they stood out even more in the orange firelight.

The others didn’t notice of course, but how could he not? Focus was in his blood.

“When did you come?”
“Just now,”
Mannat took the bread from her hands but didn’t eat it. His mind was still not properly there. He couldn’t quite get the feeling out of him. It was different. He didn’t’ remember ever feeling like that. Or there was once a time, long ago…

“So as I was saying.” Little butcher’s voice crackled over the sparkling fire. “Let’s hunt something. We can plant a trap and then—“
“No, no. It will be dark soon.” Soman said gravely. Everyone looked up at the open sky above the lake, and surely, she was right. The sky was growing redder, a sign of the day ending and night coming.
“What then? That’s it? We are going back?” Raja asked; he was back. There was silence until there was not.
The little butcher grinned and gave out an evil laugh. “I have something.”
Chahhat shook her head before he could speak out. “No.” She declared without delay; he wanted to do something deranged again, didn’t he?
Little butcher gave her a glare but ignored her useless opinion otherwise. It was not the first time she had objected to his… anything, and it probably wasn’t the last time either.

“Let’s go see the witch.” He proposed.

Everyone was taken back and for sure, Chahhat snorted.

“That’s your plan?” She said. “You want to be turned into a frog or a lizard? Is that what you want?” The beautiful girl looked around for support and was surprised to see the fire burning in the boy’s eyes. Hah, all the fools were interested. Why wasn’t she surprised?

Everyone knew the witch who lived under the cherry tree outside the village border. She lived in the woods, but there was a proper path that led to her house. Even though a witch, she had frequent visitors, who all advised to never visit the old hag with, or without a reason.

Anyways, Pathar was the first to stand following his best friend, the little butcher. Soon, only the two young boys and the sisters were sitting on the tree log and everyone else was already on their feet.  

Pandit felt a crisis coming. Meeting the witch? He didn’t want to go. No, way; he knew it was a bad idea, but when his eyes met with his brothers, his pounding heart jumped to his throat.

“Get up. You are coming with us.” He was told, but he remained seated.

Pandit clenched his fist. “I, I—”
His brother interrupted. “Stop stuttering like a sissy and come here,” Little butcher grabbed Pandit’s wrist and pulled him to his feet beside him. Then he turned toward Mannat.
 
“What about you? Are you staying with the girls, girl?” There was a snicker, but Mannat cared for it as little as the fire burning in the pit cared for their existence.

Mannat looked at the woods, instead, and then back at his brown-haired friend in ankle grey length shorts. Pandit had gone pale white from fear, but couldn’t speak for himself. He was looking at the ground, his shadow trembling nervously in the firelight. The sneers didn’t matter to Mannat, but he really wanted to find the thing that was calling him.

It could be important, right? None else seemed to have any inkling of its existence; maybe they couldn’t feel it? That was actually the truth. They wouldn’t have known any better even if the cause of the disturbance had stood right in front of their eyes. They didn’t have mana sense. He was not a fool to go alone into the woods, but in a group… his heart raced and he stood up. There was excitement in his actions, which he properly hid by acting nonchalant. They wouldn’t have understood anyway.

Little butcher was surprised, but who knew what the freak was thinking.

“Alright,” Little butcher said and turned toward the black-haired sisters, especially giving attention to the desirable Chahhat. “Even the little freak is coming with us. Are you saying that even he’s better than you?”
The girl snorted and stood up. She shot everyone a glance and then started walking with her sister in tow. She stopped a little ahead and then looked back. “What?” She said, raising her chin. “Not coming?”

Pather let out a laugh and then everyone followed her into the woods.

The three older boys took lead and they made west from the lake. The witch lived somewhere in that direction. They didn’t go through the village though. The folks would have never let a bunch of wee nippers go to the witch. The group talked out loud on the way as if trying to scare wildlife but was actually trying to keep the sound of their heartbeats from echoing in the woods. The further they walked and the closer they got to the witch’s house, the softer their voices turned and quieter got their whispers.

The group that had started off jovial and loud had grown quiet by the time sun disappeared from the sky and they reached the western side of the woods. There was still time till night, but they were already having difficulty making out the forest floor. The blue sky could barely be seen past the canopy high above their heads. It wouldn’t have made a damned difference even if it was noon and the bright sun was right above their heads. The woods were too thick there, the trees too closely packed together.

The floor was littered with dead brown leaves that created crunching sounds with their footsteps and dry branches that broke with a loud snap. The air had grown colder and the shadows ominous. They walked in silence – that is until an owl hooted somewhere in the trees. The ominous hoot echoed in the quiet forest, sending shivers down their spines.

Little butcher had been leading the group in a trance when something heavy fell on his shoulder. He didn’t scream, but jumped in fright and rolled forward. He remained low on the ground and frowned upon turning. There were no monsters waiting for him, only a group of confused and frightened children.

“What?” He said and got surprised at the hoarse voice that came out of his throat. He wasn‘t doing any better; his heart was also pounding inside his chest.

Larkar dropped his hand and sighed. He turned toward the rest, took a good look, and decided for the rest of them. “That’s it,” he said. “We are turning back.”

The little butcher frowned, yet the others breathed in relief. Some life returned to the pale faces of the girls, and Pandit finally relaxed his grip on Mannat’s sleeve — he had been pulling it.

Little butcher stood up and looked back at the dark forest. He could still make out the trees in the distance, but the witch’s house was nowhere to be seen. “We are close.” He grumbled. “We can’t go back now. Not until we see the witch.”

However, Larkar refused. “No,” he said. “It’s gotten too dark. I don’t want to be here at night.”
“I’m scared,” Pathar interjected.
“No one asked you stupid.”Little butcher grumbled.

“I’m also scared,” Sharmilla whispered out loud, earning the boy’s ire. He didn’t say anything though, and made dew with kicking a broken branch on the forest floor; Chahhat looked ready to give him an earful, and he had had enough of her for one evening.

Although Mannat didn’t feel scared, his senses were blaring at him and he didn’t like it.
Finally, the older of the two black haired sisters turned around. “I’m going back. Follow me if you are done with the foolishness.” She announced and gripping her sister’s hand started walking back.

“Hey—Hey!” Little butcher tried to stop her. He held her shoulder, which she couldn’t get free. He was a hunter and had already surpassed ten points in strength. There was no way she, a farmer, could have overpowered him. Larkar clicked his tongue, but Mannat couldn’t pay much attention to them.

Something grated heavily against his senses. Cold washed over his body, shaking him from head to toe.  He couldn’t help but look back, but the woods were dark and the group was getting ready to turn back.

Although the little butcher was seething, he was alone. Even his friend, Pathar, who was foolish enough to drown himself, wasn’t ready to wander the woods at night.

“Get away from him, Pandit!” He shouted upon seeing his kid brother holding the freak's hands. How could he let one of him own brother associate with someone like that infuriating rat!
Four quail eggs!
He hadn’t forgotten about them. There was one time when he had refused to pay the bet and the goddammed freak had turned up at his house at night; it had ended very badly for him.

“Come with me!” He snatched his brother’s hand and pulled him away from Mannat, who didn’t pay attention when Pandit called for him.

It was only when the group had reached the town that they realized that they had forgotten someone behind. Mannat had gone missing.