“Why not just ask them to let you play, Pandit?” Mannat asked the small boy sitting next to him on the fallen tree, feet dangling freely in the air. I say small, but the boy was definitely larger than Mannat in both shape and size, even though they were of the same age.

The boy raised his head and looked straight toward the blue lake, which was reflecting an even vibrant blue sky, and shook his head. “Brother won’t let me. He says I’m too young.” He said staring at the older boy standing near the lake.

Mannat followed the boy’s sight and watched Pandit’s older brother, the little butcher, furiously waving his arms in the air. He was shouting, probably asking those in hiding to come out. He had been searching for quite a while and had failed splendidly in finding anyone, even the one hiding right next to him.

They were playing hide and seek, and the two had been made to sit out of the game, both for different reasons.

“He is not wrong,” Mannat said causally, causing the boy to nudge him on the shoulder.

The boy was definitely stronger than Mannat, and the nudge almost sent him reeling off the log. Thankfully, the boy managed to grab hold of his wrist in time. In the moment of weightlessness, Mannat thought he saw something in the woods behind them, but he lost it just as easily. It was a dark shape: a villager, perhaps? That made sense since their village was in that direction.

Pandit pulled him back. The two found their hearts pounding even after they had settled down on the tree log. It got awkward between them. Who had told the boy to get physical? By the time their hearts settled the little butcher had somehow found one of the two girls in hiding, but he still had a long way to go.

“We are both six years old, you know — the same age,” Pandit mumbled out loud, getting Mannat’s attention. “Yet they only let you play with them.” he finished with a trembling voice.

Mannat watched him break the dry-lifeless branch he was holding in two. There wasn’t any malicious intent behind his actions, only frustration. He even looked confused when staring at it.

Mannat grabbed the branch from the puzzled boy’s hand and threw it in the lake’s direction. It plopped to the ground only a few feet away —so much for trying to make it go all the way to the pond. When he looked back the boy was staring at him, holding a frown.

“Not anymore though.” He answered, watching the boy’s brown eyes dilate with his emotions. “They learned they can’t bully me. So they stopped asking me to play with them.”

Recognition passed by the boy's eyes and he gave a mindless nod. “Then why do you ask me to come here every day?” he asked, curious.

“The woods,” Mannat said.

“What about the woods?”

“I don’t know, yet.”

The woods were all around them. They were shallow and light behind them, but deep, dark, and haunting in the other directions. Once lost in its depths, the chance of one being found was next to none. There had been a few such instances where someone entered the woods and didn’t return. In a small village like theirs, even one missing person was enough to make everyone vigilant.

The woods were scary, and no matter how young or old, every child gathered there thought the same, even Mannat.

Yes, even he did, although he was also curious about its depths.

Actually, he could feel something calling him from there. The sensation was nothing new, but it was stronger out there at the village boundary. He was conscious of it even at home, but out there in the woods, where the darkness was only inches away, the cold itching sensation was naked and personal.

That’s why he tolerated being berated by the older kids —so he could be out there, where the village boundary and the woods collided.

“Say,” the boy spoke first, again, like always. He knew the strange green-eyed boy might answer him, but he wouldn’t be the one to start a conversation. That was just not like him.

“Can I join you in the smithy?” The boy said, surprising Mannat; he wasn’t expecting it to come from Pandit.

Just one more year — his father was going to train him once his general fitness reached the maximum level. He was expectant. He had seen his father mold unbelievable strong metals into various shapes. Soon he would be able to join Raesh in the shop. But why was Pandit pleading to him?

“You don’t want to be a butcher like your mother?” He asked.

The boy vigorously shook his head. “Absolutely not,” Pandit said squirming on the log. He knew it would be difficult. “Mother has been forcing me to skin the small game that brother catches every now and then with my father, but I don’t want to make a living out of it. I love animals too much. I don’t want to hurt them, or eat them.”

Mannat nodded and then pointed at a nearby flower. “Then what about plants? Don’t you love them too? So you won’t eat plants, either?”

“But they aren’t alive.”

“Yes, they are,” Mannat argued. “Plants do breathe. Just because they can’t speak or resist violence doesn’t mean they are not alive.”

“Not again, Mannat. I don’t want to have this talk again. Just tell me if you’ll ask your father or not.”

The boy looked like he would pounce at him if he said no. Mannat considered the option and asked, “How’s your general fitness?”

The boy pumped his chest up in confidence. “It’s at maximum level.” He said.

Mannat expected as much. The difference in their strengths was apparent. The boy continued, straightening his back to give strength to his words. “That is why I’m asking. I’m really close to getting five points in dexterity and once that happens my mother will be at my neck, and I won’t have a choice then.” Finished saying, he grabbed Mannat’s shoulder. “You are my only chance!”

Mannat shrugged his shoulder and the boy pulled his hands back.

“How many points do you have in strength?”

The boy gave a big smile and put five fingers up —three on his right and two on the left— and announced haughtily, “—seven points.”

Mannat smiled back but didn’t correct him. “You need ten points in strength, however and five points each in both dexterity and constitution if you want to become any good with the hammer. At least that’s what Raesh says.”

The boy’s face fell. “So your father won’t—“

“He’ll agree.” Mannat interrupted him. “He will be training me once my general fitness reaches the maximum level, so I can meet the requirements. You can work out with me on your strength. But your mother won’t let her darling son play with the town freak.”

Pandit's lips parted, but his voice remained locked behind his thoughts. He wasn’t good with words.

A little while later, everyone had gathered around the log and gotten a fire burning in the pit.

Mannat ignored the group; his thoughts captured by the woods surrounding them. The lake though distant from the village, had a well-trodden path connecting the two. The path had been etched so deep into the ground that even someone blind could have found his way back using it. However, there was no denying that the woods were dangerous. Beasts lived in its depths. It was a scary place in the day, but at night it was a place of horrors. Mannat didn’t fear the woods much, but he didn’t want to get lost inside it either. He was way too smart for that.

However, something was different that day. Mannat had a feeling that someone was watching them from the woods, keeping an eye on them. It didn’t feel human to him, but nothing in the woods felt human, even if they were.

“Here,” Someone poked Mannat on the shoulder, pulling his mind from the woods. When he looked, little butcher and Pathar had their clothes off and spread on the ground next to the fire, and they were arguing about something.

Sharmilla sat right of him, holding a piece of honey bread for him. She was younger than most the kids in the group, and was only a year older than Mannat. She and her elder sister, Chahhat, both had black hair and round faces. But where her sister was well endowed, Sharmilla was… young. She was one of the farmer’s daughters, one of four, two of which had already married; one even had kids! That doesn’t matter, though. The important thing was that when Mannat looked at Sharmilla blush grew on her freckled face, darkening the spots so they stood out even more in the orange firelight.

The others didn’t notice of course, but how could he not? 'Focus' was in his blood.

“When did you come?”

“Just now,”

Mannat took the bread from her hands but didn’t eat it. His mind was still not properly there. He couldn’t quite get the feeling out of him. It was different. He didn’t’ remember ever feeling like that. Or there was once a time, long ago…

“So as I was saying,” Little butcher’s voice crackled over the sparkling fire. “Let’s hunt something. We can plant a trap and then—“

“No, no. It will be dark soon.” Soman voiced against his stupid idea. She was Pathar’s sister and worked as a seamstress for the village tailor. Everyone looked up at the open sky above the lake, and surely, she was right. The sky was growing redder, a sign of the day ending and night coming.

“What then? That’s it? We are going back?” Raja asked. He had dark skin from working in the sun all day. He was jobless and hoped of becoming a soldier, as it was the only job that didn’t have a set attribute requirement.

His words brought silence to the group.

Suddenly, Little butcher grinned and gave out an evil laugh. “I have something.”

Chahhat shook her head before he spoke. “No.” She declared without delay; he wanted to do something deranged again, didn’t he?

Little butcher gave her a glare but ignored her useless opinion otherwise. It was not the first time she had objected to his… anything, and it probably wasn’t the last time either.

“Let’s go see the witch.” He proposed.

Everyone was taken back and for sure, Chahhat snorted.

“That’s your plan?” She said. “You want to be turned into a frog or a lizard? Is that what you want?” The beautiful girl looked around for support and was surprised to see the fire burning in the boy’s eyes. Hah, all the fools were interested. Why wasn’t she surprised?

Everyone knew the witch who lived under the cherry tree outside the village border. She lived in the woods, but there was a proper path that led to her house. Even though a Witch, she had frequent visitors, who all advised to never visit the old hag with, or without a reason.

Anyways, Pathar was the first to stand up in support of Little Butcher’s idea. Soon, only the two young boys and the sisters remained sitting on the tree log, and everyone else was already on their feet.

Pandit felt a crisis coming. Meeting the witch? He didn’t want to go. No way. He knew it was a bad idea, but when his eyes met with his brothers, his pounding heart jumped into his throat.

“Get up. You are coming with us.” He was told, but he remained seated.

Pandit clenched his fist. “I, I—”

His brother interrupted. “Stop stuttering like a sissy and come here,” Little butcher grabbed Pandit’s wrist and pulled him to his feet beside him. Then he turned toward Mannat.

“What about you? Are you staying with the girls, girl?” There was a snicker, but Mannat cared for it as little as the fire burning in the pit cared for their existence.

Mannat looked at the woods, instead, and then back at his brown-haired friend in ankle-grey-length shorts. Pandit had gone pale white from fear, but couldn’t speak for himself. He was looking at the ground, his shadow trembling nervously in the firelight. The sneers didn’t matter to Mannat, but he really wanted to find the thing that was calling him.

It could be important, right? None else seemed to have any inkling of its existence; maybe they couldn’t feel it? That was actually the truth. They wouldn’t have known any better even if the cause of the disturbance had stood right in front of their eyes. They didn’t have mana sense. He was not a fool to go alone into the woods, but in a group… his heart raced and he stood up. There was excitement in his actions, which he properly hid by acting nonchalant. They wouldn’t have understood anyway.

Little butcher was surprised, but who knew what the freak was thinking.

“Alright,” Little butcher said and turned toward the black-haired sisters, especially giving attention to the desirable Chahhat. “Even the little freak is coming with us. Are you saying that even he’s better than you?”

The girl snorted, planning to stay seated, but gave away to the pressure from her peers and stood up. She shot everyone a glance and then started walking with her sister in tow. She stopped a little ahead and then looked back. “What?” She said, raising her chin. “Not coming?”

Pather let out a laugh and then everyone followed her into the woods.

The three older boys took lead and they made west from the lake. The witch lived somewhere in that direction. They didn’t go through the village though. The folks would have never let a bunch of wee nippers go to the Witch. The group talked out loud on the way as if trying to scare wildlife but was actually trying to keep the sound of their heartbeats from echoing in the woods. The further they walked and the closer they got to the witch’s house, the softer their voices turned and quieter got their whispers.

The group that had started off jovial and loud had grown quiet by the time sun disappeared from the sky and they reached the western side of the woods. There was still some time till night, but they were already having difficulty making out the forest floor. The blue sky could barely be seen past the thick canopy high above their heads. It wouldn’t have made a damned difference even if it was noon and the bright sun was right above their heads. The woods were too thick there, the trees too closely packed together for comfort.

The floor was littered with dead brown leaves that created crunching sounds with their footsteps and dry branches that broke with a loud snap. The air had grown colder and the shadows ominous. They walked in silence – that is until an owl hooted somewhere in the trees. The ominous hoot echoed in the quiet forest, sending shivers down their spines.

Little butcher had been leading the group in a trance when something heavy fell on his shoulder. He didn’t scream, but jumped in fright and rolled forward. He remained low on the ground and frowned upon turning. There were no monsters waiting for him, only a group of confused and frightened children.

“What?” He said and got surprised at the hoarse voice that came out of his throat. He wasn‘t doing any better; his heart was also pounding inside his chest.

Larkar, the strongest among the boys, dropped his hand and sighed. He turned toward the rest, took a good look, and decided for the rest of them. “That’s it,” he said. “We are turning back.”

Little butcher frowned, yet the others breathed in relief. Some life returned to the pale faces of the girls, and Pandit finally relaxed his grip on Mannat’s sleeve — he had been holding it since they entered the woods.

Little butcher stood up and looked back at the dark forest. He could still make out the trees in the distance, but the witch’s house was nowhere to be seen. “We are close.” He grumbled. “We can’t go back now. Not until we see the witch!”

However, Larkar refused to entertain him. “No,” he said. “It’s gotten too dark. I don’t want to be here at night.”

“I’m scared,” Pathar interjected.

“No one asked you, stupid.”Little butcher grumbled.

“I’m also scared,” Sharmilla whispered out loud, earning the boy’s ire. He didn’t say anything though and kicked a broken branch on the forest floor. Chahhat looked ready to give him an earful, and he had had enough of her for one evening.

Although Mannat didn’t feel scared, his senses were blaring at him, and he didn’t like it.

Finally, the older of the two black-haired sisters turned around. “I’m going back. Follow me if you are also done with the foolishness.” She announced, tightly gripped her sister’s hand, and started walking back.

“Hey—Hey!” Little butcher shouted behind her and chased her when she didn’t stop. He held her from the shoulders and didn’t let go. He was a hunter and had already surpassed ten points in strength. There was no way she, a farmer, could have overpowered him. Larkar clicked his tongue, but Mannat couldn’t pay much attention to them.

Something grated heavily against his senses. Cold washed over his body, shaking him from head to toe. He couldn’t help but look back, but the woods were dark and the group was getting ready to turn back.

Although little butcher was seething, he was alone in his crusade to meet the Witch. Even his friend, Pathar, who wasn’t ready to wander the woods at night.

“Get away from him, Pandit!” He shouted upon seeing his kid brother holding the freak's hands. How could he let one of him own brother associate with someone like that infuriating rat!

“Come with me!” He snatched his brother’s hand and pulled him away from Mannat, who didn’t pay attention when Pandit called for him.

It was only when the group reached the village centre they realized that they had forgotten someone behind. Mannat had disappeared.