While everyone else sat around the fire and the pot of mixed vegetables, Mannat went straight to the Witch. He was angry. Little Butcher was not a human anymore. How could she let that happen? She could have told him anytime, and he would have brought him to the clearing while it was still possible to reverse his changes. She did not. She let him become a monster. She let the miasma grown inside him until it was far too late. Now he was gone forever. She was the one who told him once the miasma condenses there was no way to return for the person.

However, he could feel Little Butcher’s miasma. Meaning it hadn’t yet crystallized. Was it possible to bring him back? Could they bring him back?

“What did you do to him?” He spat out in anger at the sight of the Witch.

The Witch ignored his anger. His emotions had no effect on her. She knew his inner turmoil and told him the truth without weaving tales to confuse him.

“I did what they asked me to do.” She said leaning on her staff. “They wanted their son back. They never said they wanted him back alive.”

Her nonchalant behavior touched Mannat's bottom line. How could she be so insensitive? Her selfishness added oil to the fire brewing inside him. He gnashed his teeth and asked in fury, “Why didn’t you tell them about the consequence of your meddling? Why did you bring him back from death if he was going to be nothing more than a dead man walking?... My father is right about you.” Mannat said after a moment of silence. “You are evil and I was mad to believe you! I shouldn’t have brought my mother to your stinking hut or let you hide her!”

The Witch let out a condescending snort. “Evil is subjective, boy. You wouldn’t have been born had I denied your parent's request. What makes your parents more special than the butchers? They both wanted a son.” The staff glowed blue and a burst of wind broke out of it, pushing Mannat away from her. He stumbled to her knee and she continued despite his cry. “I took their grief and gave them happiness. I took their sorrow and turned it into joy. If I’m evil because I revived their spark, then you have learned nothing since you came here. You are an absolute waste of time.”

Mannat couldn’t see himself in her eyes. She never cared about him. He was a fool to go around praising her, fighting his father, singing her songs.

“You taught me nothing!” Mannat said getting on his feet. He learned everything by himself. What did she teach him?

The Witch also had enough of him. “Why would I waste my time on an egoistic, overconfident, self-centered brat with not a hint of courage to go against the flow! I told you, you weren’t fated to be a blacksmith. Yet, you did what you wanted. Had you followed me, your mother wouldn’t have fallen ill in the first place. The rabbits wouldn’t have turned. The butcher’s kid wouldn’t’ have died.”

“You can’t put all the blame on me!” Mannat fought back. “I was six years old then, a kid! What you call courage is foolishness in my eyes. You hate me for ignoring you in the past. Yet I’m here and you don’t see me. You told me to question everything. Now I’m questioning your actions--”

He took deep resounding breaths to calm his beating heart. They failed at that but gave him time to make up his mind. He had enough of her mysteries and lies.

“Either you tell me what’s happening to Pandit’s brother, or I’ll leave here and never come back. Then you can ride your crow and beat all the demons and beasts to death with your hundred years old staff! I won’t do your bidding, old hag.”

“Humph!” The Witch murmured indescribable curses that pricked Mannat’s ears like six inches long thorns. However, she answered him, without riddles and lies. “His miasma is metastasizing. It is forming a sphere in his head. He’ll completely turn into a beast once the bead is finished forming.” She glared at Mannat with beady yellow eyes, speaking so coldly Mannat’s heart rate dropped by a few beats.

“Why didn’t you tell me anything? I could have saved him.”

The witch smirked. It was not one of slyness, but of pitch-black calculations. “I told you to hurry, to complete the task as soon as you can. But did you care about it?”

Mannat frowned upon hearing her.

“What has this to do with the task?” He said, only for his mental horses to gallop ahead of the Witch and give him an answer. Then all his hair stood up in fright.

“No,” He shook his head, but the Witch didn’t tell him anything else. She remained stiff, staring at him without the slightest reaction.

“You said he was dead. Then how did you bring him back?”

“Don’t you already know?”

The Witch cackled aloud as Mannat ran away from her. She was mad, bonkers! Pandit’s parents asked for her help and she fed poison to their son! It all made sense. No wonder little butcher came back from the dead, but his mind kept deteriorating.

Mannat rushed to the hut. Everyone was sitting around the fire, where the darkness couldn’t reach them. Pain erupted in his heart when he saw his father lying on the ground.

Raesh watched him, worrying the boy might be depressed because of his injures, and sat up to receive him, but Mannat went straight to Khargosh who was sitting with a bowl of mixed vegetables in his hand.

Mannat’s stomach growled when his senses picked the mouthwatering odor rising from the skillet. He didn’t let his hunger stop him, stood above Khargosh, and spoke his mind.

“Did you really burn the doe that injured Little Butcher?” Mannat said.

Khargosh met his eyes and then dropped his head. He heard Mannat but chose to ignore him. He blew into the bowl and slurped down a good mouthful of the warm nourishing food, and let out a sigh.

Mannat didn’t let his irritation come to the surface and asked again, “Does what happened to little butcher have something to do with her?” The man kept silent. Mannat gritted his teeth. He felt like screaming, but Raesh saved him the hassle.

“That’s enough, boy.” Raesh calmly said. “Don’t trouble them. They have enough worries going as things stand.”

Mannat didn’t take his father’s words to heart. He needed the answer. If the doe had something do to with Little butcher then that would mean the Witch was right. He was an overconfident, self-centered fool with meager skills.

Suddenly Khargosh spoke up. “Can you change the past if I told you what happened that night?” He raised his head and looked at Mannat. The firelight reflected in his eye as he remembered the mangled beast he had set to light so many years ago. He didn’t wait for Mannat’s answer and continued, “So why does it matter what I did to her? Whether I burned or brought her back to the Witch, so she could pull that something out of its head and feed it to the boy?”

Pandit inhaled sharply and looked at his father in horror. His eyes opened wide, they reflecting the same fire that burned in his father’s eyes, but told a different more personal tale. Gande dropped her head in shame. She knew.

Mannat sighed and sat down with them. Well, the Witch was right. If this was her test, he failed spectacularly at it. He didn’t wallow in his failure, but picked a free bowl under watchful eyes and put some of what Gande had cooked into it, which he ate by the spoon full’s after blowing on it.

“It’s good,” He commented with a nod. “I think I have been wasting the roots because what I cooked didn’t even taste half of this,” He passed a short grin, but it was enough to deflate tension growing among them. Gande’s eyes trembled and Khargosh smiled in return. “Save some for me,” Mannat said getting up. He took the bowl to his father’s side and asked how he was doing.

He checked Raesh’s wounds. Someone had already rubbed a paste of herbs on them and they had stopped bleeding.

“I now understand why you didn't want to eat the herbs,” Raesh said licking his lips.

Mannat smelled the awful odor when his father spoke and grinned heavily. For some reason, he felt free of all burden. He helped his father sit up and fed him the food, or he tried to. Raesh would rather eat rocks than be fed like an old man on his deathbed.

“I can still take care of myself.” He said, causing laughter all around.

They talked nonsense for some time. Mannat grinned when he usually wouldn’t smile. If he could smile, he laughed. They were small things, which had a big impact on lighting the mood.

“Are you going to search for the boy at night?” Gande asked in concern. Khargosh lightly shook his head and nabbed such thoughts from the root.

“The woods are completely different at night. I worry for our safety. As for him…”

“Then shall we retreat for the night? I don’t want to spend the night here if I don’t have to.” Raesh suggested.

While everyone was smiles and giggles, Pandit sat with his head cast down and the broken cleaver held firmly in his hand. He had been quiet since they returned.

Mannat crawled to the friend and flicked his nose like Pandit used to do it. He had his revenge at last. Pandit was startled awake and shrieked. He pulled away from Mannat as if he was a beast that had touched him and not his best friend. Pandit raised the cleaver high to attack and Mannat hurriedly caught his arms to stop him.

“Don’t! It’s me! Stop!” Mannat blurted one after another.

“Put that thing down before you hurt someone,” Gande yelled at him.

Only then did Pandit notice his mistake. His pupils narrowed to a point as his eyes filled with light. He gasped as he realized his mistake. The broken cleaver fell from his hand and dropped to the ground with a short clang. He was in shock.

Pandit looked between them, and then pulled his eyes away. He was afraid, but he didn’t want them to see his fear. “I want to go home,”

Gande was going to speak again before Khargosh interjected. “Let’s do that.” The two exchanged eye contact and pensively stared back at the boys. In the end, no matter how different the times were Mannat and Pandit were still young. It was natural for them to make mistakes.

It wasn’t long before they picked themselves up and left the clearing. Mannat also left with his father for the night. He didn’t want to see the Witch for a while until he could naturally come to ignore the awkwardness that he had caused in between each other.

He also worried that if he left his father alone he would move about and aggravate his injuries. Even though he might not be of much help to Raesh, Mannat wanted to be there for him. It was the least he could do.

The villagers were still up and about when they arrived at the village. Their cart was stopped by the night patrol at the entrance, who asked them about their whereabouts before letting them enter.

The five of them stayed together until midnight before they separated for the night.

Back home, Mannat cleaned his father’s injuries and applied another dose of herbal paste on them before helping him to bed and calling it night.