“Attributes?” Mannat’s ears perked. It was an interesting topic. “They represent one's physical and mental status?”

“Is that it?” the Witch said cocking him a brow. She was irritating like that.

“Yes,” He answered. “That’s it! I don’t know anything else about attributes,” or picking vegetables! He almost said it aloud.

However, the way the Witch grinned from ear to ear, showing her dark brown teeth, she might as well have just heard his thoughts. Was it possible? He came to the edge of the chair and stared at the Witch to find out, but gave up almost instantly. The Witch’s wrinkled face was impossible to read. He took a back seat and crossed his arms, hoping to ease his anxiety.

The Witch spoke again. “Then what do you figure from your seven points of strength.”

Now she was deliberately enticing him. “It means, I shouldn’t have become a blacksmith,” Mannat said slowly and found his eyes looking away from the woman standing on the other side of the table. She was like his father in a way. He also didn’t like to sit. Maybe she couldn’t sit in her case; her aged bones being too fragile for such an action. She was old and full of texture, just like a tree.

The witch snorted. She banged the butt of her stick on the hard wood floor, and the smile growing on Mannat’s face faded. She was being oddly enthusiastic about this whole matter. Did she have an ulterior motive?

“Do you think I care about that?” The gruff voice pulled Mannat’s attention back to the Witch, her piercing red eyes and her wrinkled face. “What does it mean?”

“That I’m weaker than other kids my age who haven’t worked as hard, or were born with skills feeding their strength.”Mannat regretted it the moment he spoke those words. It was his pride speaking. Did he believe this nonsense deep down?

The witch was quick to jab her sharp nail into the wound that had opened. “Like you?” She said. “Do you think you are any different from the others with your Focus and Analyze?” and pounced again without giving him time to consolidate his thoughts. “What does it mean?”

Mannat grew irritated. It always happened whenever he was with her. “It means that—” he started, but noticed the changes in the way she stood. She was almost on her toes and leaning forward on her stick. There was no longer a grin on her face, but a smile. What did she expect from him?

Mannat sat back in the chair and started thinking. What did having seven points in strength actually mean? He could not figure it out no matter how hard he thought. He wished he had asked his father, but the man had never breached the topic either.

“I… don’t know.” Mannat expected the Witch to laugh and demean him in some way, but she actually nodded.

“Then what do you make of your Endurance and Dexterity? The three together make your physical attributes. What do you figure from them?”

“That… where I lack in strength I make up in effort?” That reminded him of something.

“Perhaps, you are not dumb after all. Thank the flowers.” Witch said. That was an unusual prayer. However, Mannat was no longer listening to her. His mind was already elsewhere. He inspected himself and looked at his status. Surely, his status contained more than just the six attributes. There was also Endurance, Perception, and Willpower. They had to mean something! Obviously, they did. The Witch told him so. It seemed that he needed to evaluate whether she could actually read his mind or not because she dived right into his thoughts.

“The physical attributes don’t mean anything alone. Do you think your father would look like a bear if he only had strength?” It was not a question. “He is strong because he has the endurance and the dexterity to use that strength. However, you don’t have the Endurance. The trait hasn’t increased once in your ten years of existence. Yet, you were able to work in the fields from day to night for weeks.”

How did she know that?

“Why do you think you couldn’t run all the way from the smithy to your home?”

“But I made it back.” Mannat defiantly countered.

The witch snorted. “Keep telling yourself that. You were on your last legs, barely walking. Even the stray dogs and naked kids could have overtaken you, boy. There is optimism and then there is ego. Which one do you have?”

“I have Willpower.” He let out without thinking, and then his eyes opened wide in understanding. Their eyes met and the Witch cackled out loud.

“You finally understand.” She said coming closer to the table. “I thought I would have to break it to your dull brain. Now, do you see? Just like how the physical attributes affect Endurance, Wisdom, and intelligence affect your willpower. What is willpower if not the ability to resist change? And how do you resist change?”

Mannat answered without thinking. There was no need to anymore. “We resist change by figuring out what has changed.”

“And that is intelligence: one’s ability to find answers.”

Mannat liked the answer. He was happy that Intelligence was not something shallow like being Witty or sharp as everyone told, or taunted him. However, he also had concerns and questions. Take mana sense for an example. “If that is so, then why does Mana sense improve intelligence? What answers does Mana sense provide?” He also wanted to know whether the skill affected the attribute, or was it the other way around. What was the relation between them? Moreover, was a change in one’s ability a result of an increase in the attribute, or was it the opposite?

“Are you asking me?” The Witch asked.

Had he been babbling? It wouldn’t be the first time if he was. Or—

Mannat shook his head; the Witch was speaking and he didn’t want to miss her words to his thoughts.

“Wisdom is not in questioning everything. Any fool can ask questions, but the wise know which question to ask.” She said scrapping the tabletop with the sharp nail of her index finger. Thankfully, it didn’t leave a mark behind. Mannat wouldn’t have liked it. However, she started tapping the tabletop with the same finger and asked him, “Which one are you? Are you wise or a fool?”

Mannat found himself sitting on the edge of the chair, smiling. It was of the demeaning kind. He pulled his eyes away from her and looked at the gleaming light that danced in the left corner. It was going up and down, swirling and swiveling. However, he knew even the light was restricted in its movement, and could only prance about freely in a fixed place.

He took a deep breath and turned his eyes back at the Witch. She was still patiently tapping away at the tabletop.

“I think I’m wise,” He said. “Yet, I really feel like a fool in front of you.”

The witch clicked her tongue; she looked disappointed. She had emotions? Now that was a surprise. “Humility doesn’t suit you, boy. You won’t get where you want to go without courage.”

Mannat’s fingers curled into two tight fists. “Will you help me?” He asked, expecting, and dreading her answer at the same time.

His heart throbbed in loneliness when the Witch shook her head. “Don’t be so naive. Why would I help you? You keep asking, but you have nothing to give.”

Mannat opened his mouth to speak, an urgent request, but the witch raised her stick and slammed its butt on the floor, interrupting him. “You are only here because of the questions you asked in life and the answers you found. Would you be the same if all the answers were given to you? Nothing has changed.”

“At least tell me what I should do?” Mannat pleaded, staring at the bulging veins of his curled fists.

The Witch stopped tapping the tabletop with her finger. “Ask the right questions, and find the right answers. Intelligence is in improving the method until there are no more answers. Keep looking for a better way, and perceiving your way around. That is the reason why Mana sense improves your intelligence. Because Intelligence is what gives you perception, and what is Mana Sense if not the ability to perceive mana in nature?”

The Witch pushed the tome toward him. It slid halfway across the table and stopped right in the middle. Mannat looked between the two as the Witch started speaking again.

“Since Intelligence is the attribute of repetition, and Wisdom is a measure of your knowledge, the best way to improve them both at the same time is by reading books. However, not just any books. You have to read things that raise questions in your mind and make you think. There are many books here in this cabin. Read them.”

Mannat hesitated at first, then leaned over the table and pulled the book closer. He stared at its hard brown cover. The book was new; it had no blemishes or tears. He knew it was something valuable. Knowledge makes the world go around, and it wasn’t free.

“Are you waiting for me to die of old age? Open the dammed thing already. Stop wasting time.” The Witch snickered.

Mannat coughed in embarrassment, but he didn’t open the tome. He was fearful.

“I— can’t read.”He truthfully told her. “I know my numbers.” He quickly added when the Witch pressed her lips thin. “And I also know the words on the status. My father made sure that I at least knew them, but I haven’t learned to read.”

Mannat thought she would be angry, but no. Contrary to his thoughts, the Witch brimmed with confidence instead. She gave him a shake of her head, like a mother fascinated by her child’s mischief. “Do you seriously believe I didn’t know that?” She said. Mannat felt confused. Then why would she ask him to read a book?

“I expected nothing more from a backwater flea. Nevertheless, are you going to refrain from taking a bite from the fear of being squashed?”

How could he keep hesitating after being told of so much? He turned the tome toward him and flipped it open. The first page contained writing that he couldn’t read. He glanced at the Witch with a frown on his face and saw her staring back at him. She was wordlessly asking him why he had stopped. He dropped his head back down and flipped onto the next page.

His frown deepened.

This page was different.

There was a large picture of an apple painted on it in color, and at the bottom were inked squiggles that he couldn’t read. He flipped to the next page and there found another picture painted upon it; this time it was a bull drawn in its absolute majesty. It looked lifelike with its red eyes, sharp horns, and shadowed contours. Even the characters written below had a flair and consistency that showed practice. There were people who spent their time practicing writing? How odd was that?

“What’s this?” He asked.

“It’s a picture book.” The Witch answered, leaning back. “You already know the language and the words. Use this to learn the character.”

“Are you sure I can have it?” He had to ask. As expensive as the paper was, someone had put the effort or wasted their effort to create the tome. It was bound to be expensive.

The corners of her lips rose into a sarcastic smile. “Aren’t you a greedy one?” She said and Mannat felt wronged. He didn’t mean to own the tome!

Mannat tried to refute her claim, but the Witch did things at her own pace. She didn’t stop for him.

“It’ll be in your best interest if you don’t take the books out of this cabin.” She grinned. “Something might happen if you did.”

“I won’t!” Mannat squeezed the words in, and the Witch cackled hysterically. Her voice echoed in the cabin and Mannat thought he heard the glass window cracking. It was merely his imagination; he even looked over his shoulder in a hurry only to find the window intact.

Mannat squirmed in his seat. He felt anxious inside. It wasn’t easy to stay alone with the Witch in the same room. He waited for her to quiet down and then asked, “Are you not going to teach me?”

Instead of answering, the Witch picked her stick and started walking toward the door. Mannat stood up to stop her, but couldn’t speak.

“You have to find your own answers.” She said walking across the table.

She was at the door when Mannat finally managed to get control over his body and speak. “Just tell me one thing,” He shouted behind her. “Can you read minds?”

The Witch surprisingly stopped. She looked back at him and shook her head. “No,” she said and Mannat sighed in relief. But the relief lasted for a short time and his forehead creased when the Witch told him, “But you are not the only one who can perceive expressions.” She didn’t wait for him to follow up with another question and disappeared somewhere outside the cabin.

Mannat didn’t chase after her. He already had too much on his mind. Adding the mystery surrounding the Witch would be too much for his plate. He looked at the book and fell back into the chair. If this was how it was going to be, then so be it. He would read and write if it would help get his mother back on her feet, cooking, laughing… loving him.

Letting out a groan, he started flipping through the book. He had to start somewhere. Soon, he picked a leaf light page from the stack of yellow paper and a thin piece of writing charcoal and started working.

Outside, the sun slowly moved to the horizon and the sky changed colors from vibrant blue to a kaleidoscope of red and yellow.

Meanwhile, inside the cabin, Mannat now rested with his head lying flat on the table. The stack of yellow paper had barely dwindled, but he had filled a few pages with black wobbly characters and set them on his right. His fingers had taken a liking to the charcoal and turned black. There were inch long pieces of used charcoal lying on the floor. They had rolled off the table when he banged his head upon it in frustration.

Hunger woke him. His stomach growled and he lethargically pulled his head up. His eyes went straight to the door first. The witch wasn’t standing there, or near the bird stand for that matter. Thank god. The headache still pestered in the back of his mind. He hadn’t been asleep for long, but he felt guilty nonetheless. It was not as if he had not been productive! His blackened hands and face were evidence of the hard work he had put into learning the damned language.

He froze for a second when his eyes fell on the page in front of him. His lips twitched as the irritation remaining inside him came back to taunt him. He had gotten through all thirty of the characters and was getting into understanding how to combine them into words. That was before he got frustrated and lost concentration. Now, instead of characters and alphabets, there was only a black smudge on the paper. It was evidence of the difficulty of the task. Learning how to write was not easy.

It wasn’t just a matter of understanding and Focus; writing also tested his dexterity. The task was multiple times harder than cutting vegetables for sure.

Well, not like there was anything he could do about the wasted time. He sat straight on the chair and rubbed his eyes to awake… at least he was thinking about it until he saw his black fingers and decided he’d be better off washing his hands and face.

He pushed the chair back and stood up. Coincidently, his stomach also growled at the same time, and he deiced to have a late lunch, killing two birds with one stone. Where did he put his shirt again? He was using it as a bag to store the vegetables. It was lying by the door. How it got there was of little concern. The Witch could have moved it there or the raven could have—

Mannat shook his head and picked up the shirt. It was light; the shirt barely sagged from the weight of the vegetables. True to his thoughts, there was barely enough carrots inside for a snack. He would need to pick more vegetables if he wanted to have a proper lunch. However, that didn’t sit right with him. He didn’t want to enter the garden again. One time was enough for him. Perhaps, he would act more interested if he knew how to actually find plum roots among the mass of hard to get good baby carrots.

Maybe there is a way? He casually thought walking out of the cabin.

Stars were beginning to appear in the evening sky. There was still some natural light in the clearing, and the cold wind was marvelously soothing in its own right. The tree was glowing again. Otherwise, the clearing and the woods around were relatively calm.

Mannat could hear birdcalls here and there. The Witch was nowhere to be seen. He made sure to look in the garden. Yep, she wasn’t hiding among the pumpkins, at least he didn’t see her. She had this mysterious ability to suddenly appear beside you when least expected. He decided to keep an eye out for her, so he wouldn’t be surprised. The two had distinguished their boundaries, but there was no harm in being vigilant. Who knew when the crazy in her might decide to show its true colors?

Mannat picked up the bucket; it was once again lying neglected near the fire pit. To think even he had left it outside without care after calling the Witch negligent. He filled the bucket with the roots and went to the back of the house to get water. The Handpump made his heart race, but he didn’t think much of it. He was slightly out of it at that moment. The short nap had not done much to improve his headache; his head was still fuzzy.

“I’ll inspect you when I get the time.” He said to the thing, as if it was a living being, put the bucket under the nozzle and started pumping the handle. Water gushed out of the nozzle as thoughts passed through his mind.

He couldn’t quite determine what to make of the Witch’s explanation of the attributes. She had clearly told him to find his own answers, but he had a feeling inside that she was making things up because she didn’t want to help him. The reason was a lack of trust. There was also the matter of harvesting vegetables. Truth be told, he didn’t have the leisure to do gardening. A month might seem long, but he knew the time had a tendency to pass quickly when wanting it to slow down. It would be one thing if he was getting something out of it, but wasting an hour every day would quickly add up into something significant. There he was feeling bad about falling asleep because he was tired, and the Witch wanted him to waste time picking vegetables. It was a difficult situation.

He made quick work of cleaning himself and the vegetables and carried the bucket back to the pot. Walking back, he was busy making plans to buy supplies from the village tomorrow when his eyes fell on the right side of the garden. Suddenly, he thought of picking a few tomatoes before remembering that the Witch had barred his entrance to the right side in particular. He ignored the thought at first, but it pulled his attention and made him doubt the Witch’s intentions.

Why would she ask me to stay away from the garden? He thought. She had told him he wasn’t ready for that side of the garden. He didn’t feel the same about the other side either, but the Witch obviously thought otherwise. Did she mean there was a way to harvest only rich and plum roots without disturbing those still young?

He started thinking about the lecture she had given him right after he had made a spectacle of himself in the morning. She had asked him to ask questions, and he was doing exactly that. She had asked him to learn to write right after, and he knew it would level up his Analyze in the end. In fact, his Mana sense was already improving slowly thanks to the giant source of mana in the front yard. The only skill he hadn’t found a way to improve was Inspect.

Inspect was a skill that showed information about the target object. He didn’t know-how—

“Oh, my god. I’m a fool.” Mannat changed directions toward the garden and started walking. it didn’t take long for him to start sprinting.

His heart raced as he rushed to the fence, excited about what he might find and how he would tackle the situation. He was there in a few seconds, but just when his heart started pounding inside his chest, and his expectations touched the roof, a black shadowy figure took flight from the garden. The night was falling and he couldn’t make out what it was, but the shadow made him vigilant as it flew toward him at lightning pace. The smile froze on his face and he slowed down, but he was definitely not quick enough.

He heard wings fluttering and a harsh cranky sound as the thing attacked him. It stabbed him right in the chest and Mannat thought he was dead. It hurt, but not as being stabbed in the chest should. He did fall on his back however or rather slipped. Whatever the case, he was on the ground and the thing was on top of him.

He didn’t scream, but put his arms over his head to shield his face, shouting, “Get off me!” but the thing kept scratching and nibbling at his sleeves.

Flailing, he somehow managed to hit the thing off his chest and hurriedly crawled back. The vicious black beast gave another cranky sound as it got back on its feet. It didn’t attack him. Huffing and puffing, Mannat pulled himself up and looked at the thing. The beast was standing on its clawed talons at a distance, staring at him with its big round eyes. It opened its devilish feathery wings and threatened him to act. The beast was a bloody raven.

“What the hell?” Mannat couldn’t believe he had lost his nerves to a frigging… bird. Where had it come from and why had it attacked him?

Because it was protecting the garden and trying to stop him from entering them at night as the Witch might have told or instructed it. That made sense.

“So the Witch really had a raven?” Mannat mumbled aloud. “I thought she was joking!”

Well, there indeed was a bird stand inside the cabin, and feathers on the floor right below…

Suddenly, the bird started coming toward him. Mannat grew vigilant. He wasn’t afraid of birds, no way, but that thing did attack him. He had to respect the bird’s wish. Maybe he should talk to it.

“What do you want?” Mannat said, and the bird stopped where he stood. It turned its little head this and that way, round eyes fixed at him, before coming a bit too close for his nerves.

Mannat hurriedly found a rock nearby and threw it at the bird, hoping that it would get scared and fly away. The rock missed its mark and harmlessly bounced away. The raven, however, opened its wings and shrieked.

Okay, that was not the way to go.

He looked around again in increasing panic and noticed the bucket on the ground behind him. A few of the carrots had spilled out of it and were lying at an arm’s length from him. He crawled to them and the bird chased. Mannat quickly picked a carrot and threw it at the bird, hoping it would be distracted. The result was even better. The raven caught the carrot with its beak and eating it, completely ignoring him. It took its time eating before turning back toward him.

That was what he wanted, wasn’t it? Then why didn’t he move?

Mannat looked between the garden and the raven, and a plan formed in his mind. He put a defensive hand ahead of him and slowly got on his knees, making sure their eyes wouldn’t meet. He also picked another baby carrot from nearby with his free hand. He raised it in front of him and the raven showed interest. That was good, exactly what he wanted.

“You better follow it,” He said and flung it away to his left. The raven shrieked and took flight right behind it.

“Yes!” Mannat shouted and ran toward the garden. He had to know whether Inspect was the key to solving his problems or not. However, things quickly took a bad turn when the raven changed direction and pounced at him again. Mannat had only taken a few steps toward the garden when the bird attacked him, and this time it was not merciful like before. One of its claws tore his sleeve and left a shallow but bleeding scratch on his arm. It also picked his head, making sure that he would not think twice about going into the garden.

It was only after Mannat fell to the ground and asked forgiveness did the raven stop attacking him. Soon, Mannat was sitting on the ground and looking at the damage caused by the raven. While the bird took higher ground and rested upon the fence. It kept a close eye at him, daring him to take another step, but Mannat didn’t tempt fate for the third time. How would he defend himself if the bird decided to play marbles with his eyes? Suddenly, the Witch’s words from so long ago no longer seemed so far-fetched.

“So you are not letting me inside the garden at night?” Mannat asked. The bird shrieked and spread his wings wide-open as if he understood. Mannat let out a defeated sigh. He knew he could probably take it down, but that would defeat the whole purpose. Maybe, there was a reason why the Witch had gone to such lengths to make sure he would not enter the garden at night.

Whatever the case, it was going to be a sleepless night. He hoped the bird would fly away, but it didn’t look like the raven had any intention of leaving him alone for the night, not after the intent he had shown. Still, he found the bird’s company a lot better. It could have been the Witch standing guard over his head all night. How would he have fared then?

At least he could talk to the bird. Mannat let out a demeaning laugh and shook his head. It hadn’t even been one day yet, and he was already going crazy. How would he spend a month there alone with the Witch?