Lantern light glowed orange in the empty lobby, while two cautious figures stealthily moved in the dark corridor. A hesitant creak echoed in the darkness a moment later, before being overtaken by panicked whispers.
“Is my father inside?” One of the two shadowy figures asked.
“I can’t see him. Wait. Let me open the door a smidge more.”
“Be careful,”
“I am being careful!” Pandit’s ashen face grew visible as lantern light leaked into the corridor through the widening crack. Mannat stood right behind him with his hands on Pandit’s shoulders; his knuckles were as white as his eyes. Pandit stopped pushing when the crack was wide enough, then snuck his head through the crack and looked around the room.
“Do you see anything?” Mannat asked. “Look toward the bed.”
“Yeah, I see him. He’s sleeping—”
“—with my mother?”
“On the chair, stupid,” Pandit whispered back. “I mean he looks asleep. His head is drooping and so is one of his arms. And he’s holding a bottle.” Pandit told, and was surprised to find Mannat trying to climb over his back.
“What are you doing?” Pandit said shrugging his shoulders to get Mannat off of him, but it was not enough.
“I need to see!” Mannat pushed.
Mannat was in a dominant position, whereas Pandit had his head stuck inside the door. It was no wonder Mannat won the exchange.
Perhaps, he shouldn’t have; because suddenly, the door swung open.
Pandit couldn’t keep his hands on the door, and the two morons plunged through the opening. They crashed into the softly lit room, like potato sacks flung without care. Pandit first groaned in pain as his face struck the floor, and then yelped when Mannat fell upon him.
Obviously, Mannat tried to silence him.
He sealed Pandit’s mouth with his hands, while his eyes darted toward the other side of the room, to see if his father had woken up.
“Shhh!” He mouthed, looking around. His heart was pounding in the chest, but everything was fine. His father was still on the chair, head drooping. The man was sound asleep; a loud snore put an end to Mannat’s worries.
There was no other movement in the room.
His heart settled, but then Pandit bit his hand, Mannat almost screamed out loud. He gritted his teeth hard, chewed, and swallowed the scream. He did, however, pull his hand back and shook it furiously to calm the throbbing. The damned hunter had almost taken a bite off his hand! He could see the bite mark; it was growing redder with every heartbeat.
Pandit inhaled sharply and tried to crawl away from Mannat as he hissed, “What are you doing?”
In response the boy turned back and glared at him; his smooth face was pale red, nostrils flared and chest about to burst. “Oh,” Mannat realized his mistake. He had just about suffocated his friend. No wonder his inner animal had awakened.
“Sorry,” Mannat said holding his twitching hand in front of his face. He had simply forgotten to put it down, but Pandit saw it as his friend’s silent complaint. He saw the bright red bite mark —it was almost a wound— and all his anger melted. The awkwardness between them continued, then the lone chair in the room screeched and drew their attention.
Raesh was turning on the chair placed in the middle of the room. The boys waited with restrained breaths as the man twisted and turned, then grew silent. Couldn’t he have slept someplace else? The thought was in both of their minds. The two shared glances then nodded, and stood up as quietly as the wooden floor allowed. There were some squeaks and some grunts, but they weren’t loud enough to wake a totally drunk man —they hoped so.
However, Mannat decided to be vigilant. He sneaked closer to his father and poked him on the shoulder for a measure of his unconsciousness. Raesh grumbled, causing the boy to grow vigilant. He crouched low behind the chair to hide, but that was the extent of his reaction; the man remained asleep. Mannat poked him again in quick successions from his hiding spot, but Raesh showed no further signs of waking up. Confident, Mannat beckoned Pandit to come closer.
“Did you have to do that?” Pandit asked.
“I’d rather he come awake now than during the—”
“—Kidnapping?” Pandit gave a toothy smile, earning a flick on the forehead. He flipped Mannat the bird and the two got busy removing the blankets covering Noor. In total, there were two thick cotton filled blankets and an equal number of bed sheets over Noor, who had changed positions since the morning and was sleeping on her left side. Pandit reacted with enthusiasm at the change, until Mannat told him it was his mother, Gande’s, doing.
“It was something related to muscle cramps, or something. I didn’t hear them properly.” Mannat foresaw the question and answered, before turning his mother on her back.
Her skin was still cold to the touch. He could feel her faint heartbeats but also understood that he was losing her with every passing second. Noor looked exactly the same as he had last seen her in the morning. She was pale and thin and showed no sign of waking up. If anything, her fingers had curled inwards, and he couldn’t straighten them. Mannat would have kept trying if it wasn’t for Pandit who told him to get his shit together: his exact words.
Mannat exhaled a deep breath, as Pandit suggested, “You hold her from the arms and I’ll take her legs.” He agreed.
Mannat kissed his mother’s cheek and pulled her toward the edge of the bed by holding her from the shoulders. Pandit did the same with her feet. They were careful, but of course, there had to be problems. The blankets slid off the bed and tumbled down onto the floor when they tried to lift Noor off the bed. The ruckus created was relatively calm in contrast to a bucket falling on the floor, but the night was young and the world was too silent. No wonder Raesh woke up.
“What are you doing?” The man said in a daze.
The two boys abruptly turned toward him, believing they had been caught. They weren’t. Raesh was babbling in his sleep. He even scratched his bearded chin and then started snoring loudly, grinning every now and then.
“Hah… I almost thought we were dead,” Pandit released in relief.
“Let’s go,” Mannat said coldly. Pandit exhaled loudly in silent retaliation, and they carried Noor out of the door. They didn’t see it, but after they had left Raesh moved again and put the bottle down on the floor.
Outside, the boys hurried through the dark corridor with Mannat at the front. The boards squeaked and squealed as they hurried, showing concern and their age.
“Go slow, buddy. We are going to trip.” Pandit complaint, still whispering, but Mannat didn’t listen. They didn’t trip or bang into anything and safely reached the front door, but that was not the point. Mannat was simply being a thick-headed boar and he should have listened to his friend, the hunter, who knew about these things.
They grew silent at the bolted closed door. Mannat tried to open it with one hand, but alas, he was no thief, nor dexterous enough to become one. So Pandit softly laid Noor’s legs on the floor and opened the door for his friend. A gust of wind welcomed them by blowing dirt at them. It was temperate and loud. Pandit pegged the door to the wall and darted back to lift Noor’s feet.
He thought Noor was down with some rare illness, but the moment he touched her feet he knew it was no illness. He had never touched a body so cold before, other than a dead one. Even the dead retained some warmth for hours. But Mannat was confident his mother was alive, and he had also felt her breathing. So what was wrong with her? No wonder the doctors had raised their hands. He was there when Mannat’s father had brought the tall wiry doctor wearing a black coat. He had taken one look at Noor and ran away shaking his head.
Pandit was going to lift her feet when he saw the night outside. It was right at their doorsteps, growling and howling for them to leave the confines of the wooden house; to let it embrace them and take them someplace no one would ever find them. The chill that went down his back was not one of fear, but his experience. A night that dark was perfect for beasts to hunt young fools like them, after all.
“What a night we picked to go on a fucking excursion to the Witch’s house.” he spat out and stood back up straight. Mannat squinted, but he ignored him and rushed toward the dinner table.
“Where are you goi—” Mannat started, but Pandit returned before he could complete the sentence with the lantern in his hand. He gave it to Mannat to hold, since his hands were free, and returned to pick Noor’s from her feet.
“Now we can go,” Pandit said, and they were gone.
The house got swallowed by darkness when they escaped through the front door with Noor in tow. And it shouldn’t come as a surprise that both of their hearts were in their throats at that moment. Pandit didn’t forget to kick the door close behind him, unlike the one inside. The lantern light created a sphere of bright hallow around them as they walked down the dirt road. Mannat was occupied with his thoughts, but Pandit didn’t like the situation. And he could finally speak out loud.
Pandit shook his head when the wind ruffled his brown hair and said, “Are we carrying your mother to the Witch?”
Mannat was jolted awake by the loudness of his voice. He stopped walking in the middle of the road and his eyes grew distant.
“You didn’t think it through, did you?”
“To the barn,” Mannat said quickly like he would forget the words if he didn’t say them. “We’ll take Bhadur with us.”
Pandit retorted with a snort. “Finally, a good idea came from you.”
The barn was a little out of the way, not attached to the house. It was a tall, but destitute shelter. Its unpainted walls had grown grey from age: there were some planks missing, and the tapered roof was not as high as it should be. Pandit heard the soft neighing of the horse inside, which grew louder with every step they took. Suddenly it dawned upon him that he would have to work together with that thing. Ah, he had never liked the beast, and the beast had never liked the stench of blood coming from him.
He was a hunter. He killed beasts and bore their ire; things were that simple.
They stooped right before the large double door, bolted shut by a thick deadbolt of Raesh’s own creation. Mannat jerked his head at Pandit to open the door, but Pandit clicked his tongue in disagreement.
“That beast won’t like me inside the barn.”
Mannat sighed. He understood why his friend, who was once against killing animals, called the horse a beast, and why the horse didn’t like him; but there was no time for such nuisance. “Come here and hold her then,” Mannat said plainly, the tension getting to him. “I’ll bring Bhadur out. Promise me you will be on your best behavior when you see him.”
Pandit rolled his eyes. “You should worry about the horse creating a ruckus.” He said lowering Noor’s feet on the warm dirt ground. Ah, they had forgotten to take her shoes.
Standing straight and stretching his back, Pandit picked Noor from Mannat’s hands. He flung her arms around his shoulder and held her slim waist to keep her straight. She was taller than him, so her naked feet dragged in the dirt. He could smell a foul odor coming from her, but a blush grew on his face when her head fell on his shoulder. He took deep breaths to calm his warming body. The thought to carry her in his arms came to his mind, but he cursed it back to the corner it had risen from. Hunters were known for their frivolous behavior, but he could act decent. He gulped.
Pandit did one thing, however; he removed his shoes and put them on Noor’s feet. A smile grew on his face when he managed to complete the task. It was a feat done without using hands, and he was proud of himself.
Meanwhile, Mannat pulled the deadbolt locking the door, and pushed it. He had to make an effort to open the door; it was one heavy bastard. Thankfully, it hadn’t rained in days or things would have been messy. Mannat pushed the door till it was wide open, stuck the thick long bolt back in the groove, picked up the lantern, and went inside.
The barn was dark and smelled of dry hay. The wind moved freely inside, keeping the temperature normal. Humidity and warmth was the last thing they wanted. The horse recognized him and neighed. The sound of it tickled his ears and touched Mannat’s heart. At least was one of them still held a modicum of chirpiness? He raised the lantern high above his head and the horse came to light, though the other end of the barn remained out of sight and covered in inky blackness.
Bhadur stood in the stall, watching Mannat draw closer through the visor. His black eyes burned bright in the darkness. He tapped the ground in excitement, urging his red-haired companion to make haste. Who knew everything sounded so clear at night?
Hay littered the ground. There Mannat felt right at home. He drew closer and Bhadur threw his face over the door to welcome him. Bhadur was not a tall horse with long legs, but he had thick thighs and a wide chest. He was built for strength and to pull heavyweight, and for speed.
“Hey there buddy,” Mannat said and the horse neighed in response.
Mannat put a hand on his head’s brown face and he rubbed the hand in glee, feet tapping the hay covered ground in excitement.
“Will you take us to the witch, friend?” Mannat asked the horse, and suddenly the horse stopped acting friendly and pulled away from him. “Are you afraid?” Mannat raised a brow, causing the horse to snort. Bhadur didn’t stop at that; he neighed and jumped on his rear legs in a show of confidence.
A smile grew on Mannat’s face as he pulled the horse down from the neck rope. The rope used to have a bell at the end, which Mannat had removed the day he understood it categorized the horse as something lesser; for him, it was their family member.
Bhadur tried to get going, to stand up on his rear legs and run, but Mannat kept a hold on him and didn’t let him go. He eased the horse into submission. “Calm down,” Mannat said. The horse snorted again but stopped acting up.
“Good boy,” Mannat rubbed Bhadur’s head and Bhadur trotted out of the stall when he opened the gate. The horse might be old and short, but even he had a sense of pride, and the head held high said it all. Well, it took about one second for Bhadur to stop acting prim and proper and shove his head into Mannat’s chest. That tickled the boy, of course. Mannat’s laughed. It was one of the tired variety that didn’t deserve to be anywhere near the face of a boy so young, but that’s all he could give at the moment. The pressure, oh, it had his head spinning. If only he could stay there in the stable with Bhadur. Perhaps, they could snort at each other and Mannat could climb on the horses back and they could run away into the dreary night without a care in the world. If only he could.
“I wish I could, buddy.” He mumbled out loud, a hint of weariness in his voice. Mannat extended his arms and brushed Bhadur’s mane, hugging him. In the end, Bhadur pushed Mannat away with his head. Mannat realized his mistake and walked Bhadur around in the barn to warm his legs. Mannat tied a rope to Bhadur’s neck after a while.
“Stretch and Warm your legs,” Mannat told the horse. “I’ll get the feed.”
He found the box cart at the end of the building, covered in large stacks of golden hay. He also found a bag of lentils right beside the cart, behind a pillar. He found the cloth bag among the straps and the reins on the tool station in the corner. He half-filled the cloth bag with lentils and tied it to Bhadur’s mouth, so the horse could eat and get some strength. He also checked his hooves while he was at it and cleaned the dirt stuck in the cavity. Next, he brushed the horse and realized it was taking too long.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Do you want to come inside?” He shouted loud enough that Pandit would hear him outside.
“No,” the voice came, calm and composed. “Just get the damn horse out of the barn. I’ll wait and keep an eye out.”
“You do that,” Mannat said and went back at it.
Mannat groomed Bhadoor while he ate, strapped and got him ready for pulling the cart, then brought him to the watering can. Mannat tied Bhadoor there so the horse could freshen up, while Mannat decided what to do with the hay. He thought of getting rid of the haystacks at first, and then decided against it; he realized it would be better if he left the hay inside to cushion his mother’s stiff body.
Once the horse was done drinking, Mannat led the horse to the cart and strapped him to it. He patted Bhadur’s chest before climbing into the driver seat and picked up the reins.
“Go slow,” He told the horse and gently flicked the reins.
Bhadur slowly put strength into his legs and pushed the ground. The cartwheels creaked and squeaked as they rotated on the bearings, and Bhadur snorted as the straps dug into his hide. Slowly the wheels came out of the groove in the ground and Bhadur pulled it out of the shed. Mannat tensed the reins to make the horse stop in front of Pandit.
Pandit instantly noticed the change in Mannat’s demeanor. The way he sat on the cart, looked at him, everything he did display strength. The bloody horse noticed him too and didn’t play coy when it saw him. The thing felt its master’s confidence, neighed, and shook his head at Pandit upon seeing the tall brown-haired boy with Noor.
“Still don’t like me, I see.” Pandit sneered.
Bhadur didn’t like it. He sneezed and almost got Pandit right in the face with a jet of flying booger. Thank god he missed, but the damage was done.
Pandit had a laugh about it. He almost forgot they were being stealthy for a second. “You will pay for that!” He said. “I’ll have you on my chopping block sooner or later.”
Bhadur snorted in response and pawed the ground; he was all up for the challenge, but it was not meant to be.
Mannat hopped down from the cart and slapped Bhadur on the thigh. “We don’t have time for this.” He told Mannat. “And you—” Bhadur stood still when Mannat pulled his head down so they were staring directly into each other's eyes.
“Hold on for now; we’ll deal with him later.” And as if the horse understood he neighed and shook his head out of Mannat’s hands.
“He started it,” Pandit complained, but he could see that his friend was back. And as expected, there was no response, not even a head shake. Mannat went directly to pick his mother’s up. He noticed the shoes on Noor’s feet and the lack thereof on his friends, and the sweat dripping down from Pandit’s forehead; the act almost dissolved the bit of strength he had found, but he rubbed his face on the shoulder and they silently carried Noor to the back of the cart.
There were no steps on the cart, so Mannat had to climb in the back and pull her up. Pandit helped push her from below and climbed over after them.
“Are we really taking her to the witch?” Pandit asked pensively, but Mannat ignored him.
He laid Noor on the hay and found it less than accommodating. “Will you bring her some blankets?” Mannat asked, not looking at Pandit.
“Sure,” Pandit said, hopped off the back of the cart, and headed back into the house.
And that’s when Mannat’s confident front faded away, and the worried sick child came to the surface. Mannat watched his arms: his hairs were standing straight from shock. He hurried, bent over the seat, and picked the reins that were hanging from Bhadur’s back. He took a seat in the cart and sat down with an arm around Noor’s waist. He couldn’t leave her alone in the back, even though the cart was covered in hay and it should protect her from injuries. He put his feet on the front panel to stabilize, and tightly clutched the reins. His hands were sweating and shaking by the end.
He only needed to whip the reins and Bhadur would do the rest. Pandit would be left behind. He wouldn’t have to meet the Witch and force his fate. Mannat didn’t want to hurt his friend. What if he was really foolish this time, too, and the witch actually wanted to eat him? He couldn’t take Pandit with him and risk it. There was no other way.
The reins twanged when he whipped them and Bhadur started pulling. Slowly, the cart started moving as the wooden wheel pressed forward on the dirt road. Not good enough. Mannat whipped the reins against and Bhadur picked up speed on the slope. He was anxious. He really didn’t want to meet the witch alone, but there was no other choice.
“I knew it!” He suddenly heard behind as the cart crossed the house. He looked back. Pandit was running out of the house, carrying the blankets in his arms. Mannat felt his heart tremble like he had been caught in the middle of a robbery.
“You are a fool to think that slow-ass horse can leave me behind!” Pandit shouted, getting closer.
Bhadur heard him and pushed harder, but really, the boy was fast. Mannat watched as Pandit slowly caught up with them near the pond and threw the blanket ball into the cart. Then he grabbed the back and jumped inside. Pandit stumbled forward and kneeled right behind Mannat.
That’s also when Mannat sensed something looking at them. He looked, but obviously, there was no one behind them. The road was covered in dull blackness and there was no movement. Could it be that his father had woken up? But then he wouldn’t have let them leave. There was no arguing over that.
“Rascal,” Pandit cursed, but Mannat stayed silent. His mind was occupied.
“I knew you would be doing this shit.” Pandit continued unnoticed. “Good grief, I hurried, or you would have really left me behind! Are you really that scared of the Witch? Hey,”
Pandit slapped Mannat’s on the back of his head and finally realized something was wrong. The boy didn’t react. Pandit held his friend's shoulders and shook him; that ought to do the job. Thankfully, it did. Mannat came out of the skill induced daze and stared at Pandit, his eye shaking.
“Are you all right?” Pandit asked. Fairly speaking, the boy was anything but normal, and it would have been abnormal even for him if he could stay calm even in such a grave situation. But he wasn’t crying and that spoke volumes of his mental health. Mannat’s willpower was strong!
Mannat looked away. “I don’t know.” He answered.
“Bloody hell you don’t,” Pandit cursed again, then saw Noor’s pale face and hurriedly found the ball of blankets he had thrown into the cart. It was about to fall down from the back! What the hell! He jumped and caught it, brought it over, and covered the mother-son pair.
“So I guess you are not going to apologize?”
“I was trying to save your life. Maybe you should apologize to me for making it so hard?”
“This stupid, idiot, rascal…” Pandit threw words around, hoping to find something menacing enough, before releasing a sigh. It was too hard to stay angry with the boy.
“Give me the reins,” He said and Mannat let go without fighting. Pandit caught them and climbed over the front panel to sit on the driver seat. Bhadur shook his head at the foreign tension on the reins.
“Oh, shush it, beast.” Pandit spat out and the horse kept walking. It helped that Pandit didn’t make things difficult by acting against the horse. He didn’t unnecessarily pull the reins, and as smart, as Bhadur was, he didn’t actually need much assistance either.
They rode into the dark thick night with only the light from the lone lantern hanging at the front of the cart. Thank God they were only going to the far side of the village. The lantern light wasn’t enough to scare the old night, and a long journey would have proved too perilous with such little preparation.
The air was warm, very bitter, and humid. Mannat tightly held his mother close to his body. She was still cold and stiff, and deadly silent. He pulled the blanket around her, but they really didn’t do anything. The unease he had felt before continued growing inside him the longer they traveled into the night. This was all he could do.
The witch’s house might be at the town’s boundary, but the road leading to it was well maintained. It showed that no matter what everyone thought of the Witch, she was still highly sought after.
He vividly remembered his first meeting with her.
It had been a long time still and she hadn’t looked a figure of youth at that time. Almost half a decade had passed since; he wondered if she could even walk anymore or not. She was bound to have grown even difficult in nature. People do grow rancid and bitter as they age, and she hadn’t been the soundest of mind even back then. She had talked about her desire to eat children, and he was still unable to discern whether she was making fun of him or telling the truth. He hoped it was the former, yet he knew he wouldn’t back down even if it was the latter. The Witch only needed to help his mother —he would do the rest.
Barely any lanterns glowed in the entire village. It was the middle of the night and everyone was sound asleep. The unraveling of the gravel by their cart did wake some people who turned their lanterns on, but none tied to stop them from passing. They could hear the night watchman shouting, ‘stay awake’ as a measure to prevent robbers. He was far in the distance, and no one dared venture the road they were taking in the night.
Soon, the town disappeared behind them and they saw the jagged canopy of lush green trees ahead. The trees welcomed them with shadowy hands and windy whispers, raining leaves at them to convey their happiness. Alas, it was all in their heads, but the woods looked spooky at night, and a bit of imagination was enough to turn them alive. The forest grew lush around them the closer they got to the Witch’s house. The path didn’t look gloomy or scary like most stories let believe. Multicolored flowers became visible growing at the side as their cart passed through. Pandit believed he saw a deer up ahead on the road, looking at them, but couldn’t confirm as the inky blackness swallowed it, and it pranced away into the woods.
Mannat tightly hugged his mother to his chest as the house approached up the road. The hut, it was still the same cave-like structure that had been taken over by vegetation. Only that a light could be seen faintly glowing inside through the cross-pane window. But then again, that in itself was one heck of memory, which everyone told him was but a nightmare. Like hell, it was a nightmare!
The hut had a vine of beautiful white and red flowers going up on its left face. The same garden of out of season vegetables grew in front of the house, and a beautiful pink cherry tree glowed in the front yard.
Everything looked the same as he had last seen it, or as everyone said, ‘Imagined’ —a dream.
“Whoa!” Pandit exclaimed when he saw the tree with his own two brown eyes. He looked over his shoulder with eyes twinkling in excitement. “Do you see that?” He asked, his fervent voice letting his thoughts bare for Mannat to pry.
“I told you,” Mannat said, and Pandit’s smile contorted as old memories and conversations rose in the back of his mind.
Bhadur took them into the clearing but refrained from moving when he reached the garden.
“Come on, you stupid horse. Move!” Pandit whipped the reins, but Bhadur refused. He neighed and snorted and pawed the ground, and did about every trick he knew but go forward.
“Stop torturing the poor animal and come help me,” Mannat said. He was getting ready to take his mother to the Witch’s house, but Pandit climbed over the seat and held his arm, stopping him.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to knock on her door.”
“Stay with your mother,” Pandit ordered. “At least let me do this,” he added when Mannat tried to stop him and hopped off the cart.
“Why does he act so stupid in these situations? Maybe he’s not that smart, actually. Won’t that be a surprise of the ages?” Pandit mumbled out loud as he walked away from the cart.
How could Mannat have stopped him when his friend looked so determined? It was trust; something he hadn’t given his friend who had stuck with him all day —years, actually; Pandit had stuck with him for years when no one else had.
Mannat saw him hesitate before the garden. Pandit looked back, grinned and waved at him, and then dashed through the narrow road leading to the hut. He slowed near the glowing tree, before shaking his head and picking up speed again. The next time he stopped he was at the hut and pounding hard on the round door. It was a single piece of some tree’s trunk! In the place full of vitality it was the only thing dead. The door dwarfed his friend. Mannat tried imagining the size of the tree it would have belonged to as Pandit pounded harder.
However, no matter how Pandit tried the door refused to budge, instead, Mannat heard someone nearby, a whisper in his left ear.
“Why is that boy pounding at my door?” The voice came shrill and thin, like someone scratching glass with a needle. Mannat looked left and there stood the witch among the luscious green cabbages by the iron pole fence. He might have glossed over the garden, but had he really missed her? Maybe she was crouching and doing fieldwork? It didn’t make sense just like the last time.
The witch, however, looked just the same as she had so many years ago. She was still hauntingly ugly and eerily tall. He remembered her eyes, and they were piercing white like before. She donned the same black gown and had the same awful stench. Really, nothing had changed about her, not even her shrill voice.
“Did you shit yourself, corny brat?” Her grating voice reminded Mannat why he was there and he tightly hugged his mother.
“My mother,” He said with a heavy heart, and a throat that was starting to clamp shut. “Help my mother, please.” His cheeks grew wet and his sight grew blurry, but his emotional display brought no change in the Witch.
The witch cackled instead. “I wouldn’t touch her with an inch long stick, much less help her. And why would I? What’s in it for me?”
“Because, because,” This was it, the moment he had been preparing for. Why was he mumbling like an idiot! Was he going to falter when things got tough? No! “She’s my mother.” He didn’t know why, but they were the only words that made sense to him. There was a change in the Witch.
“Do you really want to save you that thing you call mother?”
“She’s not a thing!”
The Witch smiled, taunting him, showing her black teeth and gums. “It’ll be hard, harder than anything you have ever done in your life.”
“What will I have to do?” Mannat asked. He was determined to die.
“To let me eat you, of course, what else can you do?” The witch held her stomach with wrinkled dark hands, and cackled like a raven, before looking down at the trembling boy and saying, “Give me your skin, your muscles, your bones, cartilage, your marrow, blood… and your heart. And in exchange, I’ll help your mother become better. Do you still want my help, meat?”
Mannat’s heart raced in his chest when he saw the hunger in her blood-red eyes. He could sense something awful from her, something bad and malevolent. She was not human! His heart skipped a beat, but he didn’t run.
He hugged his mother dearly and looked in the direction of the hut, at the back of his friend who was still pounding at the door.
“DECIDE!” The Witch cawed with an ear-piercing voice and Mannat stopped thinking.
There was no other choice. He looked at his mother and agreed, and he regretted nothing.
“You can have me,” he said, calmly. He had never felt so calm before. “But only once my mother is completely cured. I’ll let you eat me then.”
The witch cackled enthusiastically. She then pulled her stick from the ground and stuck Mannat in the head. He expected to lose consciousness, but in reality, the blow didn’t even hurt. Instead, a familiar phenomenon occurred. A blue apparition appeared in front of his eyes.
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??? is extending an apprenticeship to you. Would you like to accept?
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“What’s this?” Mannat asked. “Aren’t you going to eat me?”
The witch snorted. “Then who will heal your mother? Me? I’m too old to even fly, kid. Seriously, everything would be fine if I could eat you.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Everything,” The witch said and cackled.
A frown grew on Mannat’s face. Accepting her offer meant abandoning his job as a blacksmith —the job he had to give his whole life until that point to acquire. Was he really going to abandon it all so easily?
“Yes.” He said, but he was not ready.
Suddenly, the blue apparition turned red and a blaring alarm played in his head.
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YOU WISDOM AND INTELLIGENCE DON'T MEET THE REQUIREMENT!
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He told the witch and her face fell.