The two jumped to their feet and turned around in fright. The old man stood behind them, squinting and looking over them. His eyes stopped on their mud-covered feet for a few seconds before returning to their faces. He was leaning on his staff, ready to send them back to their maker.

He raised the staff to put it over his shoulder when suddenly a shriek came from the sky. He looked up and noticed something diving toward him at a brisk pace. The old man’s eyes flashed with murder. He waited for it to reach him and swung the staff with enough velocity to make the air rip and tear. He missed, and the beast zoomed past him by flying over his head. It was a blackbird, a raven. It did a rollback to decrease its speed and landed straight on Mannat’s head. The sight scared the old man and Pandit both, while the bird opened its wings three feet side and let out another horrible shriek. The raven stared at the old man with her piercing red eyes. Even Mannat was agitated as its sharp talons dug into his scalp and took hold of his skull.

“Don’t move!” Mannat hurriedly yelled when he saw Pandit and the old man both vying to save him from the bird. “It’s alright,” he said as the raven sensed the atmosphere and tensed her grip on his skull. “I know her,”

“You know this beast?” Pandit exclaimed. He was not convinced.

“It’s not a beast. It’s the Witch’s raven.”

“The witch’s raven!” It was Sardar this time. The old man suddenly grew serious. He took the staff with both hands and got on his haunches, ready to spring forward at any moment.

Mannat frowned at their reactions. Perhaps, he shouldn’t have given the bird a title.

Pandit nervously looked at the two and groaned. “I don’t feel so good anymore.” He said letting out a burp. “Can you ask it to leave?”

Mannat also wanted the same. “Put away your weapons.” He told them. “Especially you,” he pushed Pandit back with one hand. The boy had a goddamn cleaver out in his hands; it worried Mannat more than the bird – he’d rather the raven take his eye than to be mistakenly beheaded.

“Don’t threaten her and she’ll fly away. I think.” Mannat’s experience told him the raven was intelligent and wouldn’t needlessly hurt him. She had not attacked him after the first evening, and that was a result of his mistake. He wouldn’t have gotten hurt if he had taken the Witch’s word a bit more seriously.

Pandit and the old man shared a glance and made a tactical retreat. They moved far enough to be of no threat to Mannat or the raven, and gently put their weapons on the road. She saw their actions, released a shriek in a show of dominance, folded her wings, and jumped to the ground. She didn’t take off, instead took guard in front of Mannat.

“That’s cute,” Pandit coughed. Sardar, on the other hand, stared solemnly at Mannat. He knew about the boys deal with the Witch – the whole village did. He wasn’t angry at Mannat. The boy had shown great courage by agreeing to the Witch’s condition. Not everyone has the strength to stand straight in face of a storm. However, Sardar had to break his little girl’s heart and it made him sad. Sharmilla was still not talking to him. He had been waiting for Mannat to meet him, which he would if he really wanted to marry his girl, but he didn’t expect this situation. What were the two boys doing in his fields? Friend of the family or not, he wouldn’t be polite if the two couldn’t give him a proper explanation.

“Now…” The old man said, “Tell me what you both are doing here so early in the morning. Don’t lie, tell me the truth.”

“You are not going to tell us to leave?” Pandit exclaimed. He really thought their adventure was over. For a young, still green hunter like him, what else could hunting be other than an adventure?

The old man ignored him; he had his eyes set on Mannat.

Pandit noticed the sparks rising and wanted to intervene, but remembered when last year someone tried to sabotage the old man’s crop out of spite and got sense beaten into him. Sardar wasn’t fragile as his thin appearance might let know. Thinking so, Pandit crossed his arms and silently kept to the side. He’d let Mannat handle this problem. Speaking wasn’t his strong suit.

“The witch sent me,” Mannat said. The old man’s face first hardened, and then a sense of disappointment replaced it. Pandit noticed his shifting emotions and so did Mannat. The latter even noticed a hint of anger from the way the man clenched his five-foot-long staff. The stick looked to have seen better days, but it sat firmly in the old man’s hand. He definitely knew how to use that thing.

“Then I don’t want to hear anything else from you.” The old man said firmly. “Go back, and don’t ever return again.”

Mannat didn’t mince words, either; he could see the man had grievances with him.

“There is a beast roaming in your fields,” Mannat said and Pandit’s eyes lit up. Of course! The man might not agree if they said it was a rabbit, but a beast…

His friend might not know much about relationships, but he sure knew how to face pressure. Way to go bother. Pandit mentally raised two thumbs to Mannat.

The old man hesitated. “Are you talking about her?” He pointed the stick at the raven, but the bird was not scared and stared back with her beady red eyes.

Pandit nodded, agreeing. “It sure looks eerie.” They ignored him again, causing him to purse his lips in sadness.

“She didn’t tell me the details,” Mannat said. “Only told me to hurry up and kill it.”

The old man didn’t agree or disagree right away, but looked at him, watched him. He wanted to figure out the truth behind his words but was disappointed as Mannat maintained the same bored and stiff stature throughout.

Seeing that Mannat was a dead end, the old man turned toward Pandit. “You tell me the truth? Are you here for mischief?”

Pandit clicked his tongue. “Now you want to talk to me? Well, I have nothing to add. It’s exactly what he told me. And I believe him.”

“Do you?” The old man questioned. He wasn’t convinced. He saw the traps, ropes, and cages the two carried. There was nothing indicating that they were lying. He could ignore them; however, the crops belonged to the whole village. Many people's livelihood depended on a good harvest. There was also the count to consider.

Eventually, he sighed and decided to listen to them. He had met many kinds of people in life. Some like to steal, others lie to hide, but he had never met anyone lying to stay at the scene of the crime. All try to make an exchange and leave as quickly as possible. Many such people had met the long side of his staff. The boys… he could only blame himself for growing soft over the years. Age does it to you. One either grows stubborn with age, or they become open-minded. He was glad to be the latter.

He raised his sight to the blue sky behind the two boys. The sun would be up in a few minutes and people would come out of their houses to begin a new day.

“We should hurry,” he said. “Let’s find your beast.”

If there was nothing then it was only a wasted few minutes, but if there was actually something, then…

“What are we looking for?” The old man asked.

Mannat again took lead. “It should be one of the burrowing kinds. I was told it would only appear at night and hide after sunrise.” He looked east. The sky was red and brightening with each passing second, but the sun hadn’t risen yet. They still had time.

“Say, did you notice anything strange around your land?” Pandit asked. “Something like footprints, shedding, eaten crops… or burrows?”

Suddenly the old man stopped walking. The two boys shared a glance: They had something.

“What is it?” Mannat asked.

The old man looked east. “Burrows,” He admitted.

“Take us,” Pandit said, suddenly excited. The old man looked across at him. He wanted to give the boy a tap on the back, but sighed and led the way.

Behind them, the raven also took flight.

Sardar was only accompanying them to see what they wanted to do. He never thought the two would actually lure him into their play. He was getting old. They walked on the embankment made to hold water and divide the fields into smaller sectors.

There were bugs in the fields and Mannat had a tough time concentrating. He walked at the back. Seeing that his companions were unperturbed by the same problem, he could only bury the discomfort inside his heart. He would have asked Pandit for a fix if they were alone, but he didn’t want to show weakness in front of the old man. He still had to talk to the man about Sharmilla and their engagement.

In a way, the task was bridging the distance that had opened up between them. Mannat wasn’t sure of the Witch’s intentions, but he was in her debt.

Soon, they were near the lone tree, but they didn’t approach it. They turned east some distance from it. Pandit released a long-drawn-out breath when he saw the tree disappearing behind them. It would have been awkward if the rabbit were there.

They went east and continued walking until the tree was barely visible from their position. Suddenly, a chill shook Mannat from head to toe. He almost fell in the muddy field, and barely managed to keep his feet on the embankment. It wasn’t the wind; there was no wind. The temperature, however, had definitely dropped by a few degrees. Mannat believed so, but neither his breath became foggy, nor did others react to the sudden cold. Was it because of his low constitution? Or was it something that only he could feel?

Suddenly the old man spoke. “You said the beast only appears at night. Then how are you going to catch it in the day?”

“We can dig the hole. If the Witch is right…” Pandit said and his face scrunched up. He instantly regretted it. He glanced at the old man and saw him looking dissatisfied. Mannat on the other hand seemed lost in thoughts.

He coughed twice and cleared his throat before laying his thoughts out. “I think it’ll be much easier to catch it while it’s hiding underground. What do you think?” Pandit asked.

The old man ignored him, and Mannat was unusually quiet.

Pandit shook him from the shoulder. “What’s wrong with you?”

Mannat raised his head and looked at him. His face was pale and his hands were shivering. There was fear in his eyes. He was going to reply when the old man suddenly stopped walking and started talking. The two looked at each other, then looked past the man, then looked back at each other and saw the horror in their eyes.

“Did you say you want to dig the burrow?” the old man sneered. “Get to work then.”

Beyond the old man was a couple of hectares of barren land, and uncountable holes had turned it useless. They made the land look like the surface of the moon that coincidently also appears only at night.