Mannat woke up early thanks to his routine. He saw his father sound asleep and quietly left the room. That was when he ‘sensed’ the cloud of tensed emotions hovering around his house. He climbed the fence to look around and saw a number of agitated people on the usually empty street. Some were running, others were standing in groups and whispering to each other. Oddly, no one was laughing.

He saw Raja among the men. They used to play together once when he was still a dewy-eyed boy, but that was half a decade ago. He was friends with Little butcher. Raja had left the village a few years ago to become a soldier under the count, and recently returned a man wearing the count's colors to meet his family. Mannat called him aside to ask what was happening.

It was not good news.

Raja told him, “A beast attacked the village last night. The patrolling men fought it, but it killed two men and injured another. That was three against one, and the patrolling men had weapons, swords, and the like.” His voice rose by a few octaves. “The injured one said it was a monster. It is probably his nerve talking, but the Sarpanch isn’t taking any chances. He has called for a manhunt before the beast comes attacking again and hunts other people.”

“Come on, let’s go.” A voice called and drew raja’s attention. The black-haired man then waved goodbye to Mannat and left him hanging over the fence. It was grave news. There was only one thing that the villagers would call a beast, and Mannat worried it was Little butcher. He climbed over the fence and hurried to Pandit’s home.

He saw more and more people on the road the closer he got to the village center. It was very early in the morning. The sky was indigo and growing slowly growing brighter. The roasters hadn’t crowed, yet all the men were up. 
The butchers lived close to the center of the residential area; there were a lot more people on the road around their houses. Many of those people carried poles, axes, farming tools, and the like -- anything that could cause harm.  hunt down a beast. Mannat couldn’t help thinking someone was giving wind to the flames, and he suspected the Sarpanch. Only that man could cause a crowd to gather, and he had a grudge with them. Did that mean the Sarpanch knew the truth? Or was he testing the waters? Mannat believed they would need to find it out before things get out of control.

His heart was heavy with burden by the time he reached his friend’s home.

Mannat only stopped running when he reached Pandit’s door. It was wide open and he directly went inside. There was no privacy between them. They were like a family. He closed the door behind him and hurried to the living area. They had to do something before the people caught Little butcher. He might have escaped them, but how would he escape ten, fifteen people, the whole village? Mannat passed through the narrow corridor and stopped outside at the threshold of the living area when he saw the butchers had company.  

The adults were sitting on a wide dinner table that could easily seat ten people at one time. At that time, only three people sat on it. Khargosh and Gande sat facing Mannat, while their guest had his back to him. The man was wearing clean and wrinkle-free black clothes like someone in mourning, then he turned around and smirked, causing a chill to run down Mannat’s back.

It was the Sarpanch. He was alone and grinning.

“Ah, look who we have here,” He said. Obviously, his men didn’t tell him about their embarrassing encounter with Mannat on the road to the clearing, or the Sarpanch wouldn’t have been so relaxed around him.
Whatever the case, Mannat didn’t answer and stared at him with a piercing gaze. This man, whom the villagers trusted to keep them safe, was the embodiment of corruption and evil. He’d rather push a master blacksmith and the only butcher out of the village to give peace to his deviant mind because he believed they challenged his position as the Sarpanch (chief) of the village.

Mannat kept silent. People make most mistakes in their overconfidence. He wanted to know what the Sarpanch had planned for them this time around, but the man was not there to entertain him. Guess, he was not a complete idiot, after all.

“What happened to you, son? Why are you so quiet? Did my men take your voice?” The Sarpanch snickered. “That’s alright. Don’t be afraid. I just was leaving. As for you two,” He turned back toward Pandit’s parents, “Good luck. Let’s see who gets the boy first.”

He knew!

The Sarpanch stood up straight and kicked the wooden chair back to make room for his legs. The chair slid behind him and fell to the floor with a loud snap. The sound was extra loud because the floor planks were thicker and dry without any elasticity. He didn’t go to pick it up.

Gande had enough of him. She slapped the tabletop and stood upright after him. She was fuming, ready to take off. “Believe me. You don’t want to do what you are thinking of doing.” She glared at the man and said in a voice so cold it sent shivers down Sarpanch’s back. Gande continued as the man opposite her stood his place despite the touch of fear that had grown over his face. He didn’t back down in front of her.
“The boy is innocent. He was not himself last night.”

The Sarpanch held his stomach and cried out laughing. “You must be joking! No shit he was not himself. He just killed two men!” The man bared his fangs at Gande. “Do you dare say he’s innocent? I should report you lot to the authorities and let the counts men deal with you all,” He saw Gande’s hesitation and let out a sleazy smirk. “But what’s the fun in that? It’s a game. You win and you keep the boy, but if I win… I will take him away and hang him at the crossroad for the crows to peck alive, Butcher.” The Sarpanch said gritting his teeth, with malice and anger of the degrees that Mannat had never seen in anyone, except the monsters.  

Sarpanch continued. “Then I’ll put the blame on all of you and make sure you pay for your Witchcraft.” The man looked at everyone with a maniacal smile, then looked at Mannat and his expression changed back to normal.
“Now if you’ll excuse me. I have a gather the villages and hunt a beast. The people of this village need answers.” He said and swaggered toward Mannat with his head high, and eyes looking at him in disdain. He didn’t take the boy in his eyes.

Mannat wasn’t angry, he saw it as a chance. He blocked Sarpanch’s path and asked him, “How did you find out?”

The Sarpanch didn’t hesitate either. He told them everything. “Things don’t add up when six people leave the village and only five return back with injuries. You don’t need complicated skills to figure such things. It’s the basics that everyone has to learn growing up in the town. Oh, I’m sorry. You village buffoons don’t know anything about compulsory education. Well, that’s a shame.”

He knocked Mannat to the side and left through the front door. He didn’t pick up the fallen chair or closed the door behind him. He had appeared like a storm and left like one, leaving bamboozled people in his wake to pick up after him.

“This is not the time to gloat. We need to do something before he catches your son!” Mannat said in a hurry, but the adults remained silent, staring into the void in defeat.

“It’s pointless.” Raesh shook his head. “The boy killed people. I have known those men, worked with them. We were friends once. And my flesh and blood killed them. There is no hope anymore. Let the villages catch him and decide our fate. It’s what we deserve--”

“That’s nonsense! The Sarpanch’s a liar. Don’t believe him!” Mannat stomped his feet t get their attention. “The three boys he sent after me never thought they would meet the same end once they had dealt with me. That’s the kind of man he is! Who knows whether the men were really killed by little butcher or-or he killed them to pin the blame on us. Do you know the survivor? If he’s someone affiliated with the Sarpanch?”

Khargosh’s eyes lit up again. “I’ll find out,” He said standing up and dashed out of the house, leaving Gande and Mannat behind all alone to clean up. Every second was precious.

Gande glanced at Mannat and ignored him. She went to clean the table and Mannat offered to help her, but she refused. “I’ll be fine. Pandit is the one who needs your help. Talk to him if you can.”
“Where is he?”
“He is in the back.” She said and Mannat left her without ceremonies.

Mannat didn’t find Pandit in his room, but the next door was open. That was Little butcher’s room, and Pandit was sitting in the dark with the broken cleaver laying in front of him. Pandit had his back to the door, so Mannat couldn’t see what he was thinking if he was crying or angry, but Mannat could sense his agitation, his grief, and his helplessness.

Carved deer heads decorated the room. There were taxidermy rabbits on the bedside table. A dead squirrel was climbing the wall frozen in time with its face turned toward the bed. There were big black rats in a cage and a growing python in another. At least they were alive. Little Butcher definitely had some unique hobbies. Mannat didn’t feel much about the room or little butcher’s preferences, but someone else would have definitely taken a sharp breath at the ominous sight. It was not unlike some of the noble’s trophy rooms he had about read in the stories or heard from others.

Despite Mannat’s vehemence, he was reluctant to step a foot in the room. He stood at the door and called Pandit. “Are you done mopping, yet?”
There was no answer.
Mannat continued coldly. “Sarpanch is going to turn what should be a search and rescue into a hunt. What are you going to do about it?”

Pandit kept quiet as if he had taken the vow of silence in the night. Mannat would have preferred Pandit’s silence a lot more --and encouraged it to enjoy the quiet for a few days-- if there wasn’t such a depressing reason behind it.

Sighing, Mannat spoke one last time. “Remember when we were kids, there was one time when we were playing hide and seek at the pond and your brother wanted to go see the Witch?”

Finally, the dull boy had a reaction. Mannat sensed his interest and pounded harder.
“He didn’t ask you whether you wanted to go, but pulled you up and made you stand beside him.”

It was an awfully old memory, and no one had a good a brain as Mannat who could recall such old tales as if they were on the tip of his tongue. Pandit took his sweet time to remember the day, even then he couldn’t remember the details. He stopped sulking, turned his jammed neck somehow to face Mannat. His rusted jaw popped when he spoke, “What are you getting at? This story has nothing inspiring about it.”

“Yes.” Mannat fully agreed with him. “In the end, everyone was too scared to continue and I even got lost in the woods and ended up meeting the Witch alone.”
That Pandit remembered very well. And it brought a smile to his face. “So what are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying you were really scared then. I still remember you holding little butcher's hand and staring at me with your big owl eyes, pleading me to accompany you. I feel like the same again.”

There was silence before Pandit clicked his tongue. “You know… that was the worst speech I have ever heard. You should learn something about the Sarpanch. At least he knows how to rally people.”

Mannat smiled. “I know,” he said. “We were both scared then, yet we went to see what the Witch looked like. And we were only six years old then.”
“She looks old.”
“She stinks too. I don’t know how many herbs she has rubbed in her life, but their stink is permanently on her.”

“So what do you want to do?” Pandit asked softly.
“Let’s find your brother before the Sarpanch does.”
A shudder shook Pandit from head to toe, but he didn’t let fear dictate his feelings this time. “And what if we actually found him?” He asked staring at Mannat for an answer he knew only his stupid, idiotic, bat-shit crazy friend could give.

Mannat didn’t disappoint him. “We’ll ask him if he also thinks the Witch is old and stinky. What do you say?”

Pandit looked at the cleaver and then back at Mannat.
“Let’s do that,” He said before looking at the cleaver. “—but I’ll need a new weapon. This one – it won’t cut it anymore.”
“Of course. Fortunately, for you, I am not just a backyard magician. I’m also a career blacksmith.”

Pandit got up and grabbed Mannat’s shoulder in ecstasy. “Then I’ll count on you.” saying, he walked out of his room holding his head high and hands empty to grab the opportunities waiting for him out in the world.

His fear was not gone, but he had found the courage to stand back on his feet and strive for a better future for himself, and his family.