The Witch turned and slowly swayed toward her staff that was still standing in the same place she had left it. Mannat had tried moving it a few times previously, but he had failed to budge it. Pulling it out was almost impossible, kind of like the carrots in the garden. Maybe there was a reason behind it, but he was far from understanding the metaphysical.

Anyways, the Witch stopped in front of the staff and put a hand on its globular crystal head. She didn’t pull it out of the ground, simply touched it and it started glowing. A blue light faintly drained from its head and entered the ground. This time, a ring of light separated from the stick swelled and seeped into the ground. 

Then with Mannat’s excitement came the tremors, the wind, and the gurgling of dirt as it lost the bind of roots, which swirled and drilled their way out of the ground, opening a doorway to the underground garden. Mannat had called it many things, but it was the first time he thought of the place like a garden. The Garden was indeed a fitting description for the place.

Nothing had changed there in the past week. He believed the garden would remain the same forever if the tree managed to stand the anger of time. Mannat’s feet glide over the stone steps and sped up when he saw the rainbow light at the bottom of the stairs. The chamber was a good ten meters under the ground. There was no chance of anyone finding it so deep underground unless they knew exactly where to look.

Through the archway, he arrived at the lush colorful underground garden. It was warm there and filled with soft ever-changing light. The floor had not an inch of free space where he could see the ground. Various flowers, dandelions, and clovers created a carpet that filled the chamber with a sweet and mesmerizing fragrance. At the middle of the chamber was the womb made of roots. The Flower of Morality slept inside it in a fetal position, without a hint of life. A dark speck at her right breast tainted her body with malice. Underneath it, between the roots laid his mother in equal peace and calm.

Mannat’s lips trembled when he saw her bright and glowing face. She looked to have shed some years in age. The lightning marks at the edge of her eyes had fainted in depth. Her skin looked smooth as a baby’s skin.

There were more thin roots and tendrils penetrating her skin than he remembered. Fortunately, he could hear his mother’s faint breath and see the rise and fall of her bare breast.

Unable to bear her silence, Mannat went forwarded and kneeled beside her. He sensed the roots moving toward him but ignored them completely. 

He put his hand on hers and softly said, “It’s your son, mother,”
She was warm to the touch but seeing her motionless made him cold inside. He sat beside her for some time and read her the story he’d read in the day. The witch hadn’t gone down with him, so there was no one there to disturb them.

He was telling his mother about his plans when the Witch’s voice fell upon his ears.
“Come out! Your Father is coming!” The reminder broke Mannat from the trance. He tightly held his mother’s hand, afraid to let go. It could possibly be the last time he was seeing her.

“I’ll treat you, mother.” He said through gritted teeth. “I have already taken the first step. I know you and father don’t want me to associate with the Witch, and therefore I’m sorry. I’m sorry, but I can’t let you go like this. Wait for me. I’ll help you. We’ll be a family again.”

Kissing her forehead, he stood up and slowly walked out of the chamber. He looked back once from the archway, then the stairs. His eyes were full of determination when he reached the surface. The Witch wasn’t there to greet him. As for the hole in the ground, it simply caved in behind him.  The roots retreated underground and closed the entrance on the way, hiding it once again behind a veil of unearthed ground.

His father arrived a few minutes later and Mannat went to greet him. Bhadur smiled upon seeing the boy. The horse snorted and pushed his head into Mannat’s chest, causing him to stumble back and giggle aloud. Mannat looked for his father and heard some rumbling on the back of the cart. Raesh was there, pulling out something big and heavy own from the cart.
What could it be?
Mannat held Bhadur’s reins and tilted his head to the side to get a clear look, but he couldn’t see anything.

“Wait here,” Mannat told the horse. Bhadur saw him leaving and bit his shirt to hold him back.
“Stop it. I will come back. Wait a minute.” Mannat somehow freed himself and ambled to the back of the cart.
“What is it?” he called, and his eyes opened wide when he saw the thing.

It was a huge wild boar with two equally daunting fangs curling up around its lips. They were larger than his hands. The boar was humongous, almost the size of a newborn calf, though tougher and meaner looking. It was dead though. A long, bloody, and gory gash had opened up its back. There was another stab wound in front of its chest. The wound was still bleeding. It was probably what had killed it.

“You didn’t buy it!” Mannat analyzed and Raesh looked at him with a grin. His mustache had grown back, and it covered his lip like a bush. He had groomed it even. It was shiny and brown, but he had kept his face shaven clean.

Raesh slapped the boar’s stomach and said, “It attacked us on the way. Poor thing must have been frightened. It had the wound on its back when it met us. I guess it took us for its hunters and attacked us without warning. It was intelligent too, went straight for Bhadur’s legs. Another horse would have lost its legs, but the boar met its match in our friend.” He gave the cart a slap and Bhadur neighed upfront and shook his head in nonchalance.

 “He’s jumpy. I guess he’s hasn’t calmed down yet.” Raesh said. Then he went back to fetch the boar, but Mannat hurriedly stopped him.
“Don’t pull it down, father.”
“Hmm…” Raesh looked up, confused. “Why? Don’t you want to eat it? You think it’s too much for the two of us?”
“There’s that,” Mannat grinned harder. He couldn’t hide it anymore. “Also,” He said with a dry throat, “I’m going back with you today.”
Mannat heard a thump and then his father stood up, eyes wide open at first before they squinted.
“Did something happen?” Raesh said walking over to Mannat’s side. “Did the Witch hurt you?” He looked over the boy and checked him from limb to limb, but didn’t see any signs of physical abuse. He got confused again.

Mannat cooperated completely. His father wouldn’t believe him if he refused. However, he also needed to come clear. “I am not running away,” Mannat said. Raesh paused and looked over at the boy's face. There really was no fear in those green straight eyes. Mannat continued. “My training has entered a bottleneck. I can’t improve my skill ‘inspect’ anymore, and need to find some alternative methods.”
“So you are coming back to the smithy?” Raesh said with a chirp in his voice. Mannat nodded.
Raesh couldn’t believe it. “What about the Witch?”
Mannat already had an excuse ready. “She agreed and complimented me for thinking out the box.”
“Why don’t I believe you?” Raesh said holding a tight smile that didn’t know whether to grow or recede.
“Can you also read faces?”
“I wish I could,” Raesh said and his voice grew soft. “It would have helped me a number of times. Why do you ask,”
“Nothing,” Mannat shook his head. This was the end of that conversation. There was a short pause. No winds flared their hair this time. They simply moved on.

“You want to go back now, or shall we cook this first.”
“Let’s go back,” Mannat said without reluctance and Raesh agreed. The man pushed the boar back into the cart and boarded the driver's seat. Mannat was going to follow him then realized he should let the Witch that he was leaving for the night.

“I’ll be back,” he blurted out and ran back toward the hut without giving his father time to speak.
 
The Witch probably already knew, but it was a basic courtesy. They had their difference, but she was also his teacher.

She was sitting on the chair facing the door when he reached the hut. She was looking over the storybook he had been reading a few hours ago. Mannat quietly entered the hut, but she ignored him even after he reached for the chair on his side of the tale. He was going to sit down then remembered why he was there.

The Witch was sulking -- that’s what Mannat thought. He stopped hesitating. “My father is here.” He said.
“Yes, he is.” The Witch replied solemnly. Perhaps, she had also gotten used to having him around. Perhaps, he was a good caretaker in her eyes and didn’t want to lose him. Whatever the case, she raised her head, looked at the red-haired boy, and quietly asked, “Are you leaving?”

The way she said the words made Mannat nostalgic. He remembered the first time he had left home to go outside; his mother had reacted in much the same way.  

He hurriedly added, “I’m only going for the night.” He worried she might forever close her doors to him. She might have agreed to his request, but she was the Witch; he expected extreme nonsensical behavior from her, though he had no such memory to recall.  

“I’ll come back tomorrow morning.”
The Witch slammed the book shut, looked at him, and asked, “Are you going or not?”
Mannat was speechless. Was she angry? He couldn’t detect. She had locked her expressions and was back to being an age-hardened tree. He looked at her and was about to turn when the Witch called him back.
“Here,” She pushed the storybook over to his side of the table. “Take it,” she said, tasted the words, and frowned. She saw Mannat’s confused eyes and added, “I want it back tomorrow.”

A smile bloomed on the boy's face. She wasn’t kicking him out. He nodded and picked the book, saw the paper and charcoal, and asked her if he could take them. The Witch snorted and Mannat confidently packed up two blank pages and his notes from the table before leaving.

Raesh was waiting for him at the edge of the clearing. There was anxiousness in the way he sat and it caused Mannat’s emotions to swell.
“…all done?”
“Yes,”

Mannat climbed over and took perch beside his father. Then the three strode down the dirt road leading to the village. On their left, the sun was incessantly moving in the red sky, retiring for the day and going home, just like them.