Shirisha rose promptly from her bedding of woven straw and grass to meet the first light of winter's dull yellow sun, wrapping a thick pelt around her cloth garb. It was very early in the morning as winter light came, and few others of their small, mountainside village were awake. She intended to begin preparations as soon as possible, because this was by far the most important day of the year. Today was the passing of Abhinatha, the great lord of desires.

She made her way quietly out of the wooden hut, stepping carefully over the remains of a small fire and her bundled, sleeping parents. The winter air was frigid as it ever was, needles on her face, but the snow itself was just a thin flurry that crunched softly under her feet as she walked the short distance to the central path. This wide, steep stretch that ran through the center of the village had been trodden and worn down by thousands of feet from previous generations, and though the wooden huts gathered on its sides around it were repaired and rebuilt, the path was always the same. Especially when walking alone, she could almost feel the connection to her founding ancestors, and it gave her hope. After some distance down, between the walls of bark and wooden weaving on her right she could see their small withered mango grove, which had not borne fruit in months. She stopped and looked at them with a flicker of sadness, for even though they had let nothing go to waste, this winter had been the hardest in years.

She was at the last of the road, almost to her destination, when she heard a thunk ...thunk ...thunk growing gradually louder while accompanied by the occasional heavy breath. Of course, she did not expect anyone else up this early, so curiosity got the best of her to go see who it was. Carefully walking left off the path between two huts and over a small ridge a bit slippery with snow, she saw some ways away Bibek. He was thin but fit and strong with short dark hair, swinging his hefty stone axe in a cluster of tall skeletal trees. She came closer, and as he heard her crunching footsteps he stopped his rhythmic swinging, looked up and smiled broadly upon seeing her.

"Shirisha!" he said. "Wasn't expecting any company; I thought I was the only one crazy enough to be awake before the sun showed its face. Could I ask what you plan on doing?"

"Well, I could ask you the same thing." she responded with a chuckle, evidently feeling the same way. Bibek leaned his elbow on the axe, looking deeper into the patch of forest.

"As you may know," he replied, "I must gather wood for the personal fires of every hut to be used when needed, as is my duty, but of course that shouldn't take more than two hours on any day of the year. My real task lies in tonight's bonfire when Abhinatha comes." He stared blankly with a calm smile tugging at his face, as if envisioning it.

"I plan for it to be bigger and grander than any this village has ever seen, twice as big as last year, or any year. I want Abhinatha to feel the great warmth and spirit of our people, to bestow all of our wishes in him with strength." His face became a bit solemn. "Perhaps for the nilgai also."

She pursed her lips, for she knew what he meant by this. Anyone in the village would know what he meant. After a few seconds, she spoke up.

"Do you need any help?" she asked, ready for whatever he might say. Bibek gave a slight laugh, expecting this, and said, "Are you sure? Knowing you, you're probably up for a reason. I wouldn't want to distract you from your task, whatever that may be."

She looked east to the light and said surely, "Dawn only broke about an hour ago. I've got some time."

"Well then, you could take a bundle under each arm back to your hut, one for your own family and one for a neighbor. It would save me a trip up the path later, which I certainly appreciate."

"Sure," she said, "but I'll take four."

Bibek was a bit stunned and looked with confusion. "Your arms must be quite long to hold up two under each, unless you have another pair you're not telling me about," he said jokingly. "It'll be quite heavy as well."

"It's alright, I can do it," she said. "I just need some balance. I'll carry two like you said, and then you can place the others on top crossways, one across the front and on the back."

He couldn't help but smile again at the girl's inventiveness, and did as she said. As he loaded the extra bundles on, he asked, "You never did tell me what you were planning to do, and what I assume you're going to do after your little errand here. Care to explain?"

"I was going to make the lanterns with Bhavaroopa. Though she is still, and will always be great at craft, her hands are old and not as fast as they used to be. I'm trying to get an early start in order to finish them all in time."

"Indeed she is old, but when can often forget that from the way she talks and her attitude, as spry and youthful as ever. It's like her body and mind aged but her spirit never cared to." He laughed at the thought of the old lady Bhavaroopa, a popular figure in the village. "I assume you'll be off now, Shirisha," he said, having placed the second bundle.

She stood firm, carrying all four bundles with confidence. "Are you sure you won't get lonely out here?"

"Oh, never, I've got the birds out here to talk to," he replied, referring to the brief chirps that occured every so often.

"Alright then." She smiled at his joke and then began walking back to the path. As she got farther away, she heard the axe resume its motion, repeatedly thunking into the tree and sending wood chips flying out into the chilly air.

The path back up to her hut was difficult, and she nearly lost her balance several times, but in her mind it was all worth it. Growing from a young age she had seen in the village the way people provide and support each other for the good of the community, how there was never a favor not returned and always a good deed done where it could. Even as a child she internalized this feeling, forming a lifelong bond to the sense of connection, and as a result loved them all like her own family. She grew up communicative and gained much skill in leadership, learning valuable skills from whomever she could, studying crafts and agriculture, and making strong friendships along the way.

She placed the bundles at the door of her own hut and three others, and headed once again down the same ancient path. This time, however, she continued past Bibek's thunking axe, to a hut that had a cloth covering extending out of its side, covering a barren and snow dusted interior. She knocked twice on the door, and an elderly, but energetic woman came to open it, grey hair ragged and messy as if having just woken up. Her face lit up immediately upon seeing the girl.

"Oh! Shirisha! I didn't expect you until some time! Anyhow, I assume you came to help with the lanterns? Such a sweet girl, do come in."

Shirisha smiled kindly and suppressed a giggle at the old woman's enthusiasm, and walked in. The floor was littered with different tools, woods, and fabrics, unkempt as usual, for this was the home and workplace of Bhavaroopa. Bhavaroopa, as Bibek had said earlier, still had the fun loving soul of a child and was skilled in the crafting of many things despite her age. The lanterns they were making would play an important role in the ritual of this day, for they are the objects upon which one would bestow their wishes for the new year, to bring light and warmth to the lord Abhinatha. One lantern was to be made for every member of the village, about two hundred. They were somewhat difficult to make, but Shirisha had plenty of experience having done the same task for several years beforehand. All materials they would need were strewn about in the old woman's typical fashion.

"Would you like to work inside or outside, dear?" said Bhavaroopa, pointing to the covered porch

"Whichever you would prefer."

"Hm. Well in that case I say we should work outdoors. Winter has kept me and my work confined to this hut for far too long. The snow is calm and the winds are easy. I say we should work in the air of nature in defiance to the last of winter."

And so they worked, hands cold but bodies warm, efficiently entwining and wrapping structures of thin wood to create the cylindrical lanterns made for thousands of years by hundreds of cold hands before theirs. Their hands in constant motion, they enjoyed a peaceful bliss despite the whip of the wind. After a few hours the other people of the village arose from sleep, moving and busy, with preparations of the feast before Abhinatha's coming already at hand. Through all this movement, however, she spotted a single large figure leaned up against a bare tree behind the huts on the side of the path opposite them.

He stood still with his face hidden under a fur hood, watching the movement of the villagers like a rock beside a moving river. In the next moment he was gone, but Shirisha didn't need to see his face to know who it was. She mentioned his appearance to Bhavaroopa without turning from her work, and the old woman let out a sigh of sadness.

"That poor boy. No doubt many of the wishes in the lanterns will be to undo his folly, mine included. I do at least hope he eats at the feast with us, to make amends."

"Yes, I certainly hope so too."

This young man that they saw was Sang, the leader of the hunters. He possessed great physical strength and speed, and was talented in the way of hunting tools and tracking. In his hunts he had been said to be deadly efficient and relentless, with an almost animalistic way of thinking. This gave him the nickname "Bagha", after the deadly beast with fur the colors of fire. He did not take kindly to being called this, but no one quite knew why. Perhaps because one had not been seen in many decades, and it felt degrading to be named after a tall tale. However he had always been secretive and of few words, never even smiling, let alone laughing. These tendencies only worsened though after what he had done earlier in the year, something that hurt the community and caused the past winter to be particularly painful and strenuous.

He became the official leader of the huntsmen after Abhinatha's last passing, to reward his lifelong training and commitment. His display of ability made it quickly well known he was most able among them, and that the way they worked only held him back. Right away the kill count grew extraordinary, and fed the entire village for months purely with the meat supply. The inevitable did come though, and what some had already begun to fear: His ambition outgrew him, and his greatest strength became his greatest downfall. He hunted indiscriminately, constantly, and addictively, never allowing the herd to recover or foals to grow. The numbers dropped extremely fast, too fast, and though some hunters knew this they were afraid to challenge Sang and his steel conviction. Several decided to drop out of the hunts, but Sang only shamed them and continued unfazed.

Summer came, and when the village expected herds to be at their largest, they did not appear at all. No one knew quite when or what it was but something inside Sang broke upon the sudden realization of what he had done to his people. He would completely disappear from the village for weeks at a time while the huntsmen now sat idle. No one knew where he went or what he did during this time, but when he did return for whatever reason, few approached or even met eyes with him, save for Shirisha. She would confront and ask him on several instances about what he was doing, even actively proclaiming her forgiveness to get him to speak about his troubles. But every time it was the same: slight looks of bother and disgust with short worded rejections to all of her inquiries.

She had relented some but still felt that his presence and unatoned actions formed a sort of scar on the heart that represented their people, and it simply had developed in her instincts to work at mending things such as that. As she sat and wove the latter half of the lanterns, she reflected on thoughts she had of him in the past months concerning this, thoughts she had reviewed many times over. She and everyone in the village knew that he carried trauma with him, being the sudden loss of his father when he was just a boy.

Shirisha's mind still stuck on Sang, and spoke the thoughts that had troubled her for so long to her crafting partner:

"Bhavaroopa, I've tried for so long to get him to speak, to heal, to open, but it's so frustratingly impossible with just the way he is. His mind seems so encased but I know somewhere in it there's a deep wound, and I know you do too. I realise that it's been some time since his wrongdoing, but these thoughts just keep coming back. Where it comes from, all this... inhumanity. Do you have an idea?"

Bhavaroopa had stopped the movement of her hands to listen, and her face dropped from the calm delight of festivity in the air to quite solemn. She spoke:

"I have seen many brash youth pursue things that were foolish in their passion, but they always grew to repair themselves and the things they have done. The likes of Sang where one is trapped by their own mind I've never seen before. I could not tell you what he seeks."

A brief silence hung in the air between them as Shirisha took it in.

"Well," the girl said, "let's not dwell on this and let it ruin our spirits. Abhinatha is coming, and with him the springtime. It is only a time for joy. I see that you are on the last lantern. Let me help finish so we can join the others."

When the last of their sacred lanterns was finished, they stored them within the hut in even rows as they always did. It was almost noon, the same dull yellow sun now high in the sky as they joined the rest of their people.