“You are back!” She yelled in enthusiasm and hugged Mannat lightly. She quickly let him go. She, however, held his hands and earnestly apologized.

“Forgive me, son. I never thought the Witch would ask you to give up blacksmithing. If I hadn’t opened my big fat mouth and foolishly swayed you, then you wouldn’t have gone to her. I— I have harmed you. I hope you can forgive me.”

Mannat didn’t understand her thoughts at first, then remembered the night he had eavesdropped on her conversation with his father. He wouldn’t have known the Witch could save his mother if he hadn’t heard her. In a way, she was responsible for Mannat’s actions. Mannat wanted to convince her otherwise, but his father was faster.

“You have apologized enough, Gande. I have said it before and will say it again, ‘you did what you thought was right.’ It was the boy’s choice and I’m proud of him.” Raesh said, but Gande shook her head.

“No, my lack of knowledge almost separated you both. I don’t know how to face you—”

Mannat interrupted her by putting his free hand on top of the hand she was holding. He got her attention. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say, but took a cold breath to collect his thoughts and realized, he was not good at making speeches.

“You don’t have to feel bad.” He started slowly, measuring his words. “The witch—she isn’t as bad as the villagers make her out to be. I have learned a lot from her. And she’s keeping my mother safe.”

“Is she awake?”

Mannat shook his head and Gande tightened her grip.

“No, she is still unconscious, but her condition has stabilized,” Mannat said. He was watching her hand. It was at least thrice the size of his limb and had completely swallowed his hand. He could imagine the amount of strength they could produce. He had seen her cut through cow bones with her cleaver in a couple of swings. Nonetheless, she held his hand so gently he could not feel any strength behind her grip. She was the opposite of his father. His father's hug could crush bones and he didn’t like holding back; while Gande was barely holding him, as if afraid to hurt him.

Warmth filled his chest.

He reassured her, “I’ll do my best to wake my mother. No, I will wake her. I just need some time. Father is right. You don’t have to apologize. Instead, I should thank you for letting me know. I don’t know what could have happened if I hadn’t taken my mother to the Witch. So thank you. You saved us.”

Gande wanted to refute, but the bright smile on Mannat’s face and the nod from his father forced her to accept the thanks.

She let his hand go and said, “You are a good kid,” Mannat nodded and agreed, causing the two adults to share a look and laugh aloud.

The conversation entered a lull. Then Pandit returned and asked her if he should take the boar. Finally, she noticed the animal on the counter and her eyes lit up. “Where did you get this?” She said approaching it and started inspecting the boar. Since she didn’t have 'Inspect' to check its condition, she did it the old-fashioned way—by feeling. She checked the boar's orifices, its eyes, and limbs, nodding in between while Raesh told her the story.

Finally, she turned back to them and said, “What a great catch. I haven’t seen such a magnificent boar in years. It must have been a tough one to kill.” She put two fingers in the stab wound and said shaking her head. “You killed it so cleanly. The weapon completely destroyed her heart. She probably died on the spot.” “Yeah, she was wounded, angry, and tired.”

“About that,” Gande flapped the skin over the long gash and checked the depth of the wound, thinking and shaking her head. “It wasn’t done by anyone from our village.”

“How do you know?” Mannat asked in interest. She was inspecting the boar without using the skill. This would be a great lecture from a lifetime butcher.

Gande didn’t hold back either. “Firstly, you have to know, of the ten hunters of our village, seven hunt with bows.” Mannat eyes shone. Of course, he knew. Besides working around the smithy, dealing with customers was what he did in his first year in the smithy. Hunters were regular customers. Gande continued. “Of the other three, one uses a cleaver, one has a short spear and the last one uses a small hunting knife. This wound was made by none of them.”

Raesh raised a brow and said, “You think people from other villages are invading our territory?”

Gande shrugged her shoulder. “Poachers, it’s definitely them.” She paused, then told Pandit, “Let your father look into it.”

She slapped the boar’s stomach, looked into her bloodshot eyes, and cursed the poachers in disgust.

“I bet she was angry. She’s still lactating; her cubs must have barely been a month old. You are lucky to have met her in a depleted state. Wild boars can be very mean when angry.” She told them, and especially stared at her son, teaching him about her side of the business. Pandit dropped his head in response. There was a story there, and Mannat was sure he would know later. Pandit, his loud-mouthed friend, didn’t have the stomach for secrets.

“Let’s talk business,” Gande said. “She deserved to be served on the high table as a whole. I have not seen such a magnificent quality boar in years. It will fetch quite a generous prize if you sell it uptown.”

She told Raesh, who denied it without thinking. She was edging him, but he didn’t care about a little money.

“I invite you to dinner tonight.” He said, and Gande also refused in a heartbeat.

“That won’t do.” She said. “It’ll be a waste to not cook her for four days and three nights on low fire. That’s how you’ll bring the best out of her.”

“That’s too long; the boy’s only back for the night.”

“Then bring the meat to him after it's done coking.” Gande ended the argument. Really, no man was a match for her. If he wanted to cook it for that long, then that’s how it would be done. She didn’t leave them hanging, however. She proposed, “We’ll come over tonight with a pot of curry lamb, and you can have the boar in a few days, all right?”

“Yes, Madam,”

That was the end of the argument. While the two adults talked about other things, Pandit grabbed Mannat’s arm and pulled him to the side.

He asked him seriously. “You know, I still don’t understand what happened out there that night.”

Mannat jumped up. He didn’t want to talk about it there, so he changed the topic. “Come tonight and I’ll tell you.”

“So it’s a party.”

“There will only be the four of us. It’s a get-together.”

Pandit rolled his eyes at him. “That’s what a party is, brother. Don’t you even know that?” He asked then remembered whom he was talking to. He slapped his forehead and smirked. “That’s right. You were committed to your damsel and didn’t get to learn about other ways of living.” Pandit was poking fun, but his expressions hardened when he saw Mannat's reaction.

Taken aback, he hurriedly interrupted Raesh and his mother to ask, “Sir, are you sure he’s the same boy?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I mean… he’s blushing.” Pandit raised his arms to get Mannat in the spotlight and the boy blushed harder. Pandit said in worry. “I can only hope the Witch didn’t show him the ropes because that would be just plain awful.”

Forget about Raesh, his mama wasn’t so keep about the remark. “You are one sick kid, you know?” She said. “Get home. I’ll show you which rope and what’s awful.”

Mannat expected to see his friend slapped silly, but Gande surprisingly held her hands back. However, she did promise to teach the boy a lesson, and Pandit’s face didn’t recover from the fear of the tragedy waiting for him.

That night, Gande and Pandit arrived at Mannat’s home at half-past eight for a get-together, or a party, as Pandit refused to call it the former word. They brought a large pot of lamb curry. It was a delicious meal, especially so for Mannat; he had been living on charred and half-cooked meat and roasted sweet vegetables for the last week.

The two guests stayed until the late night before saying goodnight. The boys made a promise to meet in the morning to jog together, and only Mannat and Raesh remained sitting at the table.

The two sat in silence, and the lamp radiated a dull orange light between them. Suddenly Raesh spoke, “I have to tell you something.”

Mannat gave him his attention.

Raesh paused to settle his thoughts and said, “The old farmer Sardar broke our arrangement.” The words shocked Mannat. Although he had seen the signs, he didn’t think… the thought never came to his mind.

He instantly found himself thinking about the old woman in the story. Like her, fate played with him for a while then left him standing in the middle of nowhere. There were no footholds round, only pits; and he falls into darkness no matter what he chooses.

A bitter smile floated over Mannat’s face, but Raesh wasn’t done taking.

“Do you like the girl?” He asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Then what’s with that bitter smile? Are you disappointed?”

Mannat didn’t answer. He looked across, out the window that looked at the vine growing on their fence. The vine was seven feet tall. It had aged much faster than him. Although he could barely see its silhouette in the dark, he could imagine the colored flowers growing on the vine swaying in the wind. Only a few leaves and lowers manage to hold in strong wind, while most get taken away.

“You didn’t answer me.” The heavy voice pulled Mannat’s gaze back inside the home and at his father, but he didn’t look any better than before.

“What can I do when the parents have decided? Anyways, I don’t know how I feel about her, or anything else for that matter. I want her to be happy, but she won’t be happy with me. You heard it too, didn’t you? The whole village calls me a freak.”

“It was a few women—“

“That’s the same thing. I--” Mannat gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. “I just don’t want that kind of life for her.”

“Are you giving up?” Raesh asked looking at the unopened bottle of ale in front of him. Perhaps, it was time to share his past with the boy.

“What else can I do?” Mannat said.

“You can elope with her. That’s what we did. There are many options to choose if the parents don—”

There was a bang as Mannat kicked the chair back and stood up-- he didn’t actually kick the chair, it just kind of fell back. “Wait! You eloped with mother! How come I never knew about this?”

“There was no chance to tell you,” Raesh said picking up the bottle. It was warm to his touch. Made of dark glass, its contents were barely visible in the lantern light. Concisely speaking, it was cheap liquor. When he bought it, he was drunk out of his mind. Whatever the case, it would have to do for the occasion.