A gust of warm wind entered the home when Raesh opened the door. The darkness tried to creep in through the opening but shied back when Gande stepped at the door with a lantern in hand. The night relinquished a bite of land to the light, so Gande could see the stairs leading down the porch, but not any further. The rest of the world remained hidden in deep darkness.

“I’ll send some bread over with my younger,” Gande said raising the Lantern in her hand and taking a peek at the cloudy sky. “There is still some meat left in the pot; eat that if you grow hungry. And don’t let Noor lay in the same position all night. You wouldn’t want her to wake up with cramps, right?”

“No,” Raesh said, the light causing a hollow glint in his eyes. “We’ll be fine.” He added when the worried woman refused to budge from the door.   
Gande sighed. “I know you will be; I worry for the boy.” She looked past him. Mannat was sitting at the table looking lost and dazed.
“He’s a tough boy.”
“That he sure is.” Gande agreed.
Raesh noticed her hesitation and braced himself. She had more to say.
“Take your poor wife to see the witch.” Gande started, but the silence she received told her more than she needed to know. The man was decided. “Well, you have the whole night to decide.” She let out and went her way.
She wasn’t wrong, Raesh knew. He also didn’t think sleep would be visiting him that night.

He closed the door, and the two men were left alone in the cold, dark house.

The wooded floor cried as he walked back to the table and took a seat. He looked square at the young boy sitting across him on the other side, holding the cup of warm tea —not the one that his mother drank every morning, but something milder, much, much milder. He could see himself in the boy. Mannat had his chin and forehead but he had his mother’s zeal and curiosity, and that head of red hair…

Raesh clamped the cup of steaming tea in front of him and drank its content in a single breath. Right away, he felt a warm hand caressing his mind, but it was not enough. He needed something stronger. Before that, he had something to take care of.

Raesh sat back in the chair and cleared his throat. It got the boy’s attention and he asked, “What’s on your mind?”
“The Witch,” Mannat let out without realizing and they both inhaled deep breaths.
“So you heard.”
“Can the witch really help mother?” Mannat asked, his voice growing higher pitched.
Raesh noticed him edging forward on the chair, and he didn’t like it. “So she said.” He said dryly.
“Then what are we doing?” Mannat sprung to his feet, ready to bounce. “Let’s go.” He shouted in high spirits, only to be put down by his father.
“It is not your decision.”
Mannat didn’t back down. “She’s my mother. I can’t — I won’t let her die!”
“And I’m telling you again: It is not your decision. Your mother made her mind about it a long time ago.”
Mannat opened his mouth to speak but checked himself in the end there. He took a deep breath and sat back down on the chair. He had thought hard about his father and Gande’s conversation, and come to the conclusion that he knew too little. He had to know the whole truth. So he took his time to calm his heart, not shying away from the silence that crept in between his and Raesh. He was lucky that his father didn’t simply leave. The man actually had been looking straight at him since he had taken his seat. Mannat didn’t know what was on his mind, but his father sure looked determined. He understood emotions weren’t going to get through his father. He needed to ask the right questions.

“Why?” Mannat said. “Why would she do that?” His voice shook, but he didn’t back down. “You said the witch wanted something very important in return. I just don’t understand why you didn’t agree. How can there be anything more important than her life?”

Raesh raped his fingers on the table, thoughtful. “You can be pretty foolish sometimes, you know. The witch wanted you. She said she wanted to play marbles with your eyes and cook your flesh and gorge on your still-beating heart. Your mother…” He stopped raping on the table and laid his hand flat on the table. A moment later he tapped twice and stood up. He was done.

“Anyways, drink the tea. It will calm your heart.” Raesh said, picking up his empty teacup. Raesh knew the boy needed to know the truth; he had just heard too much. At least now he knew why they had agreed to not tell him. The conversation had gone surprisingly well. Now, where did he keep that bottle? Ah, yes! It was behind the dresser in the room.

Mannat sat in astonishment as his father picked up his cup with one hand and the chair with the other. A warm wind greeted his check as Raesh passed him by and disappeared into the dark corridor. Mannat heard the door open and close and that was that. He was all alone, and his mind a mess. Everything finally made sense, but now he had a headache because he could no longer blame anyone. His parents were only trying to protect him.

He drank the tea and it did help soothe things out. Turned out it was a sedative, but not as light as his father had suggested. Slowly the worries disappeared from his mind and he felt strength creeping into his limbs. He felt strong like he could plow a whole field alone. Well, there were no fields to plow in the night, so he did the next best thing.

He collected the dirty cups and bowls from the table and dumped them in the basket for dirty utensils in the kitchen. He went to wash them but found that the water tub was empty. No worries! The well was not that far. He was about to do pick up a metal bucket when he suddenly noticed the smoke rising in the kiln. No, no, that was not right. He had learned the importance of completely dowsing the fire from his father. Smoke meant there was still some fuel burning. It was the compounding of small errors that causes one’s downfall since the bigger mistakes are usually caught before they lead to destruction.

Mannat worked quick and extinguished the fire properly this time —who knew Gande was such a lousy housekeeper; the more you know— and covered the opening shut to cut off air circulation to the chamber. He would not have surprises on his watch. No sir!

He opened the cover one more time to check the result before closing it and then opening it again. He was about to leave when he thought he should check one more time. He was not being paranoid, only cautious. Nah, he decided not to, then a smile blossomed on his face and he quickly opened and closed the metallic cover, without even taking a look inside. This went on for some time.

His eyes were wide open when he left the house with two buckets in his hands.

Where was he going in the middle of the night? Of course, to draw water from the well; where else would he be going in the middle of the night? The night was still young, after all. The quiet houses and empty streets could only be seen at the night. Some people were afraid of the night, like his friend Pandit. He actually liked the stars in the night. But where were they? Maybe the night had swallowed them. Ha-ha, the night—

Suddenly somebody pulled him from the arm and stopped him. One of the buckets slipped from his hands and crashed on the dirt street creating some noise, not much in comparison had they fallen on a cobbled floor. Then the buckets would have sounded like the whole tavern was up on their feet and singing merrily after a couple of drinks down the belly. Yes, that’s about right.

“What are you doing with the buckets?” It was Pandit, and he was frowning. “I called you, but you didn’t listen and passed me by without stopping. Where is your lantern and why are you covered in mud?”
Just how many trips had the boy taken to the well?
“Oh, hey there, friend,” Mannat chirped; he was merry as a songbird at dawn. Then suddenly the other bucket fell straight to the ground as Mannat exclaimed. “Whoa! You found the star!” He said staring at the lantern in Pandit’s hand.
“What star?”
“This!” Mannat touched the lanterns with trembling hands before hissing and pulling them back the moment his fingers touched the naked glass.
“It’s so hot!”
“Easy there,” Pandit’s said pulling the lantern back. His face twitched when Mannat blew him a raspberry.

 Pandit had seen that look and those wide open and glossy eyes before. Either his friend had hit his head sometime after his mother left the house, or Mannat, who didn’t even like sweet things, was high as a kite. He didn’t want to admit it, but it was kind of funny.   

“Can I have it?” Mannat asked pointing at the lantern and a smile grew on Pandit’s face.
“Here,” Pandit pushed the lantern to Mannat who carefully went to grab it from the glass. “Take the handle, stupid.” Pandit shook the thing in his face and Mannat finally understood.
Mannat tested the handle but touching it with his fingers, and learning it was not hot like the glass, snatched the lantern from Pandit’s hands.
“It doesn’t hurt,” he said with a genuine surprise on his face like he had gotten hold of a treasure.

Pandit shook his head, a mischievous smile growing on his face before he shook his head again. Would anyone even believe him? He wished there was a way to capture the moment; it would have been a good way to blackmail the boy. “No, maybe not,” Yeah, his friend wasn’t exactly normal in the head in the first place. Mannat probably wouldn’t have cared.

So Pandit picked up the buckets from the street with one hand and called Mannat, who was squatting behind him and staring at the lantern with his face right next to it.
Pandit walked to the boy, extended his hand, and said, “Come, let me take you home. And don’t stare so much at it, you will burn your eyes.”
maybe Mannat thought he wanted the lantern? Because he hid it behind him and shook his head to him, making Pandit snort.
“You can keep the star,” Pandit said in amusement, hoping it would be enough. It was. Mannat stood up holding the lantern near his face. That was a good height. “Hold it at an arm’s length.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Then I’ll take it back.”
Mannat puffed his face but didn’t argue. How could he? He was too busy, exclaiming, he could raise the sun and call the night with the lantern.
 
Pandit was a little skeptical. He knew different people reacted differently to sedatives. His Brother used to grow violent before falling asleep. He was ready to defend himself, but guess the sedative had only made his friend act his age. It made him realize that the boy, though a bit odd and fanatic, was only human.

That was enough dallying outside in the night. It was not a particularly windy or cold night, but he still would rather still be inside a home than outside.
“Follow me,” Pandit said, but it was only a few steps later when he realized it was going to be an easy task. “Father was right again,” he mumbled. “Life really is full of surprises.”

Pandit was not surprised to see the door of Mannat’s house wide open, the floor wet and covered in mud. He carefully guided the boy to a chair on the table and went to put the buckets back in the kitchen. Un-surprisingly, the kitchen was also flooded… with mud. It was like his friend had stopped carting water; instead, filled the buckets with mud and dumped them in the kitchen. He made a promise to never take a sedative in his life. If his brother's case hadn’t been condemning enough, this was outright madness.

Pandit shot a glare in Mannat’s direction, hoping to see him playing with the lantern, but the boy was sitting still on the edge of the chair and staring at the palms of his hands. Mannat looked lost like he was stuck in limbo. Pandit planned to curse Mannat for dumping so much work on him when he had only come to pacify the boy, but the sight of him made him groan and keep his mouth shut.
Just when was the day going to end?

“Where do you keep the mop?” Pandit went outside and asked Mannat but got no response. Good for him, actually not. His mother would absolutely kill him 24 times if she saw the house in the state it was.

He looked everywhere and didn’t find the actual mop, but there was a rag hanging from the garden door. It was too clean for being a mop, but he decided to just use it. The only problem was the string attached to the rag that fixed it to the door. He wondered the point of it. Then saw a crudely beaten black metallic beak holding the cloth. Curious, he turned it this and that way to find its secret.

He was disappointed to learn that it was nothing magical, only two straight pieces of metal with a spring attached in the center: kind of like scissors. He wondered if it worked like that. The string was attached to the spring and there were two legs extending behind it. He pressed the open legs together. They gave resistance, He pressed harder and the scissor legs met with a click. Conversely, the beak-shaped mouth opened and the rag fell onto his feet, scaring him.

He all but screamed in that instance. The beak fell out of his hands and hissed back into the canister attached to the door. Pandit didn’t understand what happened, but it might as well have been magic. He jumped back, picked the rag, and darted far away from the door, fearful of what might come out of it.

What followed was a work of extraneous labor. He scowled at Mannat when he saw him sprawled flat on the dinner table, and went straight into the kitchen. The lobby could be easily cleaned, but the kitchen was in dire need of some help. He rolled his sleeves to the elbow, folded his pant legs to his knees, and started scooping the mud with his hand into a bucket. He took it out whenever the bucket filled and dumped it in front of the six feet tall bush. The bush, like the boy, was one of a kind in the whole village. Pandit was sure they were both one of a kind in the whole world.

He made quick work of the heavy lifting, then filled a bucket with clean water and used the rag to clean the mud from the floor. By the time he was done, the rag had become a mop and the buckets were filled with bubbling mud. It hadn’t taken him long either. He was sure it was yet to be midnight. He wouldn’t’ have to give up sleep; so it was not that bad. Standing up he stretched his back and rotated his arms. Who knew the month he spent in the butcher shop, cleaning blood and guts would help out in this way. It was a proud moment. Physical labor really was the best way to cool the mind. He picked the bucket and was about to turn when Mannat screamed at the gods and fell out of the chair with a loud thud.

The bucket almost flung out of Pandit’s hand and undid all the work he had done. Thank god he managed to hold it. He carefully put the bucket down, and then went outside the kitchen to see what was happening. He guessed the night was not done yet.
Mannat was already up and was picking up the chair when Pandit reached him.
“What happened now?” He asked, believing to receive another nonsensical reason like the star flew away or something. Who knew what was going on in Mannat’s head at the moment, and surely he was surprised when the boy said, “Let’s go see the Witch.”

Pandit froze for a second, a thousand things going through his mind. Then suddenly, he turned around and brought the bucket from the kitchen. He wanted to be done with this.
 
“What are you doing? What is that?” Mannat asked sounding apprehensive. Pandit answered as calmly as possible, “I cleaned the kitchen”
Maybe he sounded guilty? Whatever the case, Mannat didn’t like what he heard. “What did you do?”He snapped.
“This boar headed—” Pandit started, but quickly realized something was wrong. He pointed at the lantern and asked, “What is that?”
Mannat looked. “Why are you asking me something nonsensical suddenly?”
“Just answer me.” Pandit pleaded aggressively.
“A lantern,”
“And what’s inside it?”
“Fire,” Mannat announced and crossed his arms.
“Not a star?”
“Are you all right?” Mannat looked at him concerned.

Pandit almost threw the bucket at him but controlled himself. It helped that the bucket was relatively heavy to swing. But wait, if he was fine now, which was a little difficult to get his head around because his brother… he looked at his suddenly anxious friend and decide to stop comparing the two.

So if he was fine, then what was this about the Witch?

“Are you going to explain your thought, or should I leave now?”
Mannat looked around; as if afraid someone was eavesdropping. He came closer to Pandit and got right into it. “I heard our parents talking. And they said the Witch can heal my mother.”
“That’s great news!” Pandit exclaimed before realizing something important. If the adults knew the Witch could help then what was the delay?
“I don’t understand,” Pandit said honestly.
“The Witch wants me in return.”

Pandit's eyes opened wide. He wanted the boy to tell him the whole story, but Mannat told him to wait so he could tidy up. He gave Pandit a little too many odd looks and the boy had to come clean. Mannat didn’t believe that the mess in the lobby and his state were both consequences of his own actions. However, he couldn’t deny that the muddy footprints in the lobby matched his shoes in both shape and size.

So one thing led to another and Mannat told him the whole story while they tidied up the lobby, and themselves.

“No wonder your father doesn’t agree,” Pandit said. He lay flat on Mannat’s bed with his feet and head dangling from the sides, while Mannat fondled his cloth trunk in search of a thicker set of clothes to prepare for the Witch.
“I don’t think they understood her intentions. The Witch is—”
“Out of her mind,” Pandit supplied.
“Perhaps,” Mannat didn’t deny. “But I think she deliberately said those things knowing they would get my parents off her back. I think she’s just doesn’t want to work.” He looked up from the chest and asked Pandit, “You remember what she told me when I got lost in the woods?”

Pandit sat up straight on the bed, intrigued. “Was that not a nightmare?”

“I know what I saw.” Mannat snapped back. “Do you think the Witch couldn’t have taken me then if she really wanted to?”
“What are you saying?”
“I am saying, this time is no different. She can’t kill me, lest she makes it look like an accident, but both you and our parents know the truth. Will the Sarpanch let her live if she ate me?”

“No way. My ma won’t let the matter die until she is hanged. ”

“That’s why I think the Witch is bluffing.” Mannat closed the trunk and stood up straight with the clothes in his hand. He was naked. Pandit let out a snort when he saw the thing dangling between his legs and fell back onto the bed.
 He could see the sky outside the window from where he lay if he slightly tilted his head back. The sky was starting to clear outside. There were already a couple of stars visible twinkling behind the moving clouds. He extended a hand in front of his eyes and closed a fist, wondering if it was possible to hold the sky.

“Do you believe me?” Pandit heard and sat back up. Mannat was no longer naked —thank god. The clothes weren’t gaudy, but simple dark brown pants and a baggy full-sleeved beige shirt. They were new clothes, and the boy’s green eyes and red hair really added a charm to even the set of common clothes.

“You look good.”
“Thanks. These are mother’s gift. She told me to wear them on my tenth birthday.” Mannat said tidying up: closing a button here, tightening the string there. Then he looked straight at Pandit, held his eyes, and said, “You know about the thing—”
“I believe you,” Pandit said standing up. “Tell me what to do.” How could he say anything else? There was only one answer to the question. Especially, after Mannat had so confidently told him the Witch’s plan to eat him.
Surprisingly, a frown grew on Mannat’s face. “Shouldn’t you resist more?”
“Do you want me to?”
“No…” Mannat said scratching his chin.
Pandit snorted. “You can be an idiot sometimes, you know?” He said getting up and passing him, not noticing that Mannat’s frown had grown deeper. Had he, his confidence in his friend’s ability might have taken a little stumble. So maybe it was not such a bad thing.