Vayu slowly placed the spear down on the ground and pulled the bow from behind his back. Pandit’s father put a hand on Mannat’s shoulder. “Stay,” He softly whispered to the boys. They watched as he crawled his way to their guide.
Mannat looked at Pandit. He saw the excitement in those wide-open brown eyes as the boy grinned. “What are they doing?” He softly whispered, barely moving his lips.

Pandit looked straight ahead and said, “They are going to attack it from two directions.”
“Shouldn’t you be helping them?”
“I am,” He pointed at the ground and said, “We are here to block this path. With three directions covered, the Deer will only have one direction to go. They will have an easier time aiming at it that way.”
Mannat was confused. “Why wait for it to run? Why not shoot it now?”
Pandit shook his head. “Deer’s have a great sense of their surrounding, and they don’t die from one arrow. An arrow in the heart will definitely bring it to its knees, but if it hits any other part and the Deer runs, then that’s it. No more Deer meat,”
“Can’t we follow the blood trail?”
“Can’t other predators follow its blood trail?” Pandit said matter-of-factly.

Mannat wasn’t satisfied; he wanted to ask more, but Pandit put a finger at his lips, shushing him. “Quiet down,” He said looking at the front. “They are starting.”

Pandit’s father had gone deep to the left, while Vayu held his position. He had knocked an arrow on the bow and was waiting for his partner to act his magic. Between them, the deer calmly stood with its head low, grazing grass. It had no idea the meal would be it's last. Soon Pandit’s father was only ten meters away from the Deer. Mannat watched with heightened nerves and thumping heart as both the men took aim.

Suddenly, the Deer started excreting. Its tail fluttered like Pandit had described, and spread the falling debris over a larger area. The broken small chunks fell upon leaves and foliage, sounding exactly like heavy rain on a clear day.

Mannat couldn’t hold back the chuckle. It just happened. The Deer heard him and stopped grazing. One second was enough to decide the outcome, and it went in favor of the Deer.
It didn’t raise its head, but swiftly picked a direction away from the sound and galloped away from them.

“Shit!” The cry rang in the woods, but it was too late by then. The two men released a volley of arrows after the Deer, but none of the flying arrows found their target. They struck trees or the ground, while the Deer escaped with his life intact – to live for another day.

The men returned looking distressed. Pandit offered them water. His father took the flask, but Vayu threw his bow on the ground without care and went straight after Mannat. He didn’t ask who caused the noise but directly estimated it as Mannat’s fault. He wasn’t wrong.

“You had one job. Why couldn’t you sit still without making a noise?” The man held Mannat’s shoulders and screamed at him. He had a quick temper, which quickly washed off when he stared into Mannat’s deep green eyes. They were of the color of a young pale leaf.

The man clicked his tongue and let him go. “This is why I was against bringing him with us. The woods are not a place you can casually bring an outsider and hope for the best. We are lucky it was a Deer and not a predator. I don’t want to be stalked while I’m taking a break.”
“And neither do it,” Pandit’s father replied, ending the debate.

Suddenly Pandit said, “Aren’t the woods weird?” He got everyone's attention. They didn’t interrupt him but waited for him to speak his thoughts. One naturally learns to listen in the woods. Pandit continued. “We never had to walk so deep into the woods to hunt. It’s like the animals are retreating deeper.” He turned toward Mannat and asked in a grave voice. “Do you think it has something to do with your task?”

Mannat noticed the tension among his companions, but he was helpless. He had barely kept up with them. Where did he have the energy to notice anything going on in his surroundings? Not like he could sense and track mana inside others. He shrugged his shoulders.
Pandit wanted to press his friend a little to think. Unfortunately, his father intervened.

“Let’s take a break,” Khargosh said and removed the rucksack from his back. The man rarely spoke. It was almost as if he had no presence. Mannat exhaled in relief. Vayu clicked his tongue but ignored them otherwise.
Khargosh pulled jerky, bread, and water from his sack and shared them with Pandit and Mannat before leaving with Vayu to search their surroundings.  

Mannat waited for them to leave then lay down on the ground. Finally, he could relax. His legs were screaming, heavy as a block of lead. The tiredness that had accumulated over time instantly overcame his willpower.  He would have fallen asleep right there in the middle of the forest if it wasn’t for his itching feet and numb legs.
He somehow sat up groaning and moaning and tried to remove his boots, only to realize it was an undertaking of unimaginable magnitude. He didn’t give up, but his hands were starting to shake. Who told him to go hunting with his minuscule level of constitution? There was no one to blame but him. He was still playing with the laces when Pandit called.
“Do you need help?” He asked.
Mannat raised his head. His friend was licking his fingers. Pandit had finished his meal and had his eyes on Mannat’s stack.
Mannat didn’t have much of an appetite, but he also needed to eat. “I won’t be able to get back if I don’t’ eat.” He said, causing Pandit to snort.

The boy dusted his hands and came over to help.

Pandit went down on his knees beyond Mannat’s feet and started untying the laces of his shoes. Mannat didn’t stop him and lay back on the ground with his eyes facing the forest ceiling. It was like watching the night sky. The light shimmering in the cracks between the leaves and branches looked the same as stars, only the sky behind was blue and the air around was warm.

Pandit freed his feet from the heavy, congested shackles and a sense of relief washed over him. Mannat moved his toes and the pain slowly decreased to a tolerable limit. He sighed and picked up the stack of jerky that had fallen beside him, ate one, and sighed again. It was salty and dry but dissolved in his mouth in a moment. It was great. No wonder Pandit wanted more.
Pandit came over and sat beside him. He didn’t lay down but kept his cleaver in hand, and eyes and ears at the woods. He didn’t speak, so the weight of starting a conversation was left on Mannat’s untrained shoulders.

“Has your father always been so quiet?” He said.

Pandit glanced at him, then saw the stack of jerky lying on Mannat’s chest and looked back at him again. He wanted some and Mannat reluctantly obliged. What else could he do? The boy had helped remove his shoes. This was the least he could do.

Mannat gestured him to take one with his chin, but Pandit shook his head. The boy appeared sad. Perhaps, he shouldn’t have asked the question. It was already too late. The words spoken couldn’t be taken back.
 
“My father was daring, bold, and charismatic once.“ Pandit spoke slowly, with a voice full of nostalgia. “Both of us brothers wanted to be more like him. Everything was going great, but then the accident happened. Nothing has been the same ever since.” He sighed, but it wasn’t enough to calm his heart.

“How is your brother now?”

Pandit raised his head to look in the village direction. “He is not the same. Sometimes I feel like the one who went out that day and the one who returned was not the same person.”

“Did it happen at the cave?”
“So you noticed it.” Pandit paused, took a breath, and exhaled it out in bitterness. He faced Mannat and asked. “Do you want to hear the story?”
Mannat was so surprised he sat up straight. “If it’s all right with you,” He said, but his actions spoke otherwise. He was eager to hear the truth.

Pandit also noticed, and it brought a smile to his face. “You are a good friend,” He said and didn’t let Mannat retort –which he never would-- and dived right into it. It was time he shared his pain with someone.

“It was a good day, sunny and bright, but the hunt was frustrating. They had to go deeper into the woods, deeper than we are right now, but they still didn’t manage to hunt anything. Depth wasn’t the problem -- time was. Time passes quickly in the woods. In those days, my father and brother used to go together. Vayu,” Pandit smirked. “Our guide, whom you have handsomely named bearded man, hadn’t joined my father yet. Unfortunately, dark clouds from the west came and hid the sun, plunging the forest in thick darkness. You can see how little light reaches the ground on a sunny day.” He said showing the woods. Mannat knew exactly what he meant. He continued. “The conditions are far worse on a cloudy day. It is no wonder they lost track of their direction and wounded up passing near the cave. The beast attacked when it started raining and pulled brother into the cave.  Dad killed it and rescued my brother, but he couldn’t protect him. He still blames himself for the accident.”

“Every day he grows quieter. He wasn’t so cold before. I went hunting with them once when I was seven years old.”
“How come, you never told me about it?” Mannat said.
“It’s not a fond memory,” Pandit said. “I broke down in the middle of the hunt, cried, and lost consciousness when they killed a deer. My brother told me he had to carry me over his shoulder like a dead animal.” He groaned and shook his head to clear his mind. He really didn’t want to talk about it. “Anyways, I don’t remember much from that day, but dad talked all the way. He cracked jokes and laughed at my brother's antics. He wasn’t so serious back then.”

“I was a fool.” The boys heard a manly voice behind them and turned. Pandit’s father was standing behind them with one hand on the tree trunk and the other hand holding his bow. He wasn’t looking at them, but at the woods and the trees. “The woods need to be respected. It has many things to give, but it can also take everything from you in a single swoop. Every place has its rules. Like society, in here too you have to keep your head down and ears up.” The man finally faced them. He had bright brown eyes and big thick ears. He had short brown hair and a scar that ran from the bottom of his ear to the middle of his chin. Their eyes met, and the depth of his eyes frightened Mannat. He spoke with a hardness to his voice that could only have come from experience. “Be very afraid of the woods. Don’t give it a chance to surprise you. Your life depends upon it.”

Pandit's father turned back and nodded to Vayu, who was standing right behind him. The guide hadn’t interrupted and didn’t seem to care much. He spared them a glance before the two adults got busy deciding what to do next.