Silence befell the boys, but only for a short period. It wasn’t long before Pandit was fidgeting on his feet. Eventually, he shook his head and slapped his face to cheer himself up. The noise earned him a glare from Vayu, whom he apologized to with a smile.

“Tell me something,” He asked Mannat. “Why did you suddenly decide to join us on the hunt? Weren’t you afraid of the woods?”

Mannat looked across at his friend and squinted. “When did I say that?”

“Everyone did,” Pandit said nonchalantly making Mannat frown. He had to explain.

“Don’t take me wrong. I thought you had developed some kind of phobia after you got lost in the woods when we were little. You never went to the pond to play after that incident. Everyone naturally thought you were afraid.”

Mannat wanted to know who had spread the rumor but decided to let it go. He said, “I was never afraid. I was vigilant sure, but not afraid. And I’m always alone at the witch’s hut, which is also in the woods if you get me.”

Pandit shook his head, devastated. “Forget it. Think I never asked. Anyways, how are things on your end?”

“Progressing,”

“That it? Come on!” Pandit whispered energetically, then looked back.

Seeing that he hadn’t gotten the adult's attention again, he lightly pushed Mannat on the shoulder. “Tell me the details! How are your stats? Did she teach you anything weird? Can you turn people into toads?”

Pandit looked back at Vayu and said with a spark in his voice, “I have someone I want to turn into one.”

“Is that even possible?”

“You tell me, man! You are the one who has been in the Witch’s dark cave. You should know what makes her tickle.”

Mannat squinted again and looked at the sly grin growing unrestrained on his friend's face. “You are making fun of me aren’t you?”

“NO…” Pandit said and bit his quivering lips. His cheeks ballooned when he tried to hold his laughter. He was almost on the verge of bursting out when a soft voice instantly sobered him up.

“That’s enough. Let’s go.”

Pandit wiped his eyes, splashed water on his face and they started walking again.

Another hour passed. Mannat saw various herbs and plants on the way. He didn’t know any of their names, but inspecting a few taught him the place was a treasure trove for those who collect herbs. He told Pandit, but the boy shook his head.

“You can either hunt or gather herbs. You can’t do both things. We’ll collect them on the way back.” Pandit told him.

Mannat couldn’t guess the time, but he knew they wouldn’t be back until evening. That’s usually when Pandit returns home.

He had left his study for this trip, but he couldn’t say his gains were enough to justify the leave. As for his task, he had no idea where to begin.

It was near the end of the fifth hour that they finally managed to hunt a deer. Pandit tied its legs then his father picked it up and flung it over his shoulders as if it was a wet cloth. It had to weigh at least 80 pounds. Mannat knew his physical attributes were bad, but the reality was far worse than he imagined.

The return trip was easier on his body than he expected it to be.

Mannat and Pandit talked all the way. The men didn’t stop them. They were passing the cave when Pandit suddenly blurted out,

“Rabbit,”

Mannat remembered his task. The men didn’t know of any place that was too different, and they hadn't seen potholes like the ones he described. Mannat had no choice but to let it go for now. He thought about consulting the Witch, to pressure her and squeeze the words out of her. The rabbit made him realize his mistake. He should have started with regular rabbits and seen where they take him. Perhaps, once he had checked all of their hiding places he would have a clue.

“I’ll go,” Pandit announced and rushed after the rabbit. He stayed low to the ground in his approach, but the rabbit saw him. It stopped grazing and hopped into the bushes, just like the deer. Its actions caused Mannat to cringe. He sensed and received Vayu’s attention for a brief moment before the man lost interest and Mannat exhaled the breath he was holding.

Pandit didn’t stop. He abandoned stealth and went right after the rabbit. For a moment, they disappeared in the woods, before appearing again to the left. Pandit chased the rabbit, but he had fallen behind. The rabbit was too agile for him.

First, it went straight toward the tree. Then the rabbit changed directions a few dozen feet from the three and made a mad dash toward the cave.

“It’s trying to get into its burrow,” Mannat heard and his ears perked up. So did the rabbits.

Vayu pulled his bow with a hand and knocked an arrow on it to shoot, but Pandit’s father put a hand on his arm scowling.

Mannat had rushed out after the rabbit. Why did he do it? Mannat didn’t know. It was an impulsive reaction, an instinct telling him to go after the rabbit. Though he was a novice at any kind of hunting, chasing, or tracking, he sped forward. He didn’t know the men had chased right behind him.

Mannat closed the distance as the rabbit changed direction again abandoning the cave where it would have been safe. It kept kicking around between trees and bushes until it found what it was looking for and jumped into a burrow between the tree roots. Mannat was close enough and jumped right after it. He drove his hands into the burrow and struggled for a while, before yelling, “I got it.”

Planting his feet on the ground, he pulled and the rabbit burst out of the hole. He stood up and held it from its leg as it stopped struggling in his hand.

Pandit saw it all from the distance, wondering why his father had shown such an extreme reaction to Mannat. It was just a rabbit, and a small bunny at that -- nothing too serious. Well, the cave was near and the man had almost lost his son there. There was that. He sighed and prayed for his friend. His father had a bad temper.

On the other side, Mannat looked like he had been through a battle. He had surprised everyone, but he was still the most surprised one.

The rabbit was fast but not as fast as the one in the old man’s field. It wasn’t aggressive either. It stopped moving once he caught it. Mannat looked at its eyes; they were not red like he feared, but dark black. He brought it to Pandit, who stabbed it in the heart and threw it in the rucksack once it stopped struggling.

Mannat didn’t forget to check the burrow. It was barely an arm’s length deep, unlike the few feet deep burrows that riddled the old man’s fields useless.

Obviously, he also found nothing to help him with the task. When he stood up after searching the burrow he found Pandit’s father standing right behind him. He was fuming with anger.

Mannat tried to explain, but the man raised a hand to stop him dead in the track.

“Next time, you find someone else to bring you to the woods.” The man said in a voice cold enough to chill blowing wind into stillness.

They checked the rope traps on the way back but found them empty. The boars hadn’t returned. Mannat wasn’t criticized again for making noise or knocking over stones and leaving guide marks on the way. The men ignored him and Pandit was too busy to keep him occupied.

The sun was still shinning when they returned to the village. They had saved time probably because of Mannat.

They returned to the butchery. Mannat wanted to leave right away, but Gande asked him to grab something to eat for the night. Pandit insisted, while his father dropped the deer in the back and left the shop with Vayu.

Mannat stared at their back as the two left the butchery. He waited until the doorbell stopped ringing before asking Pandit. “Where are they going?

“Where else would men go after a day’s hard work?” Pandit asked. He flicked Mannat’s forehead when his friend got lost in thoughts. “They are going to the pub.”

Mannat rubbed his forehead and pursed his lips. His father had also found the habit of drinking in the late days of his mother's sickness. When he couldn’t find peace at home, he had found it in the bottle.

He was going to leave when Pandit suddenly stopped him. “What do you want to do with the rabbit?”

Mannat looked at him in confusion. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“I was thinking since it’s yours--”

“Why is it mine?”

“…since you caught it. Anyways, I was thinking if you wanted to skin the rabbit.”

Mannat instantly agreed.

Only a single wall separated the workshop from the shop at the front. The two got through the corridor and stopped outside the closed wooden door. It was bolted shut from the outside, but Mannat could hear some noises inside. Someone was inside.

The butcher shop was the same as his father's smithy. The only difference was the storage space and the workshop had swapped spaces. Mannat careened his neck to look on the other side of the corridor and the sight of a skinned deer hanging from the ceiling astounded him. He had never been there after all; just as Pandit had never been to his father’s workshop.

“Have you ever done something like this before?” Suddenly the voice fell on his ears and his mind jerked him back in front of the workshop door with Pandit.

“No,” Mannat said and licked his lips. “What if I did it wrong?”

Pandit gave him a pat on the back. “It will be all right. Everything looks and smells delicious after getting cooked.”

“Not everything,” Mannat said thinking about the things that his father had once cooked. It was the first time Mannat had seen green and colorful vegetables creating a dark purple concoction. His father never entered the kitchen after that.

“Just so you know my brother will also be there,”

“What!” Mannat wasn’t expecting that. He had never met the little butcher since the accident. Perhaps glanced at him from afar once or twice, but never met him face to face. He grew nervous inside.

Mannat grabbed Pandit’s shoulder and asked, “What if he doesn’t want to see me?”

“I don’t know,” The reply didn’t give him much confidence either. Pandit said, “He has not left the house or the shop ever since.In the beginning, he did use to go out a little. However, he has not even been home ever since his old friends stopped talking to him. He stays here all day and night. Wakes up, work, and sleeps here. Dad doesn’t say anything, and Mom is happy with him being close to her. I don’t want that. I want him to meet people again. Only then will he be able to get back into the society.” He grabbed Mannat’s hands and asked with earnest. “Will you do this for me?”

“Your mother won’t be happy.”

“I’ll take care of Mom. Still, don’t be hostile.”

Pandit opened the door and they went inside.

The workshop was smaller than Mannat expected. There was only enough space for two workbenches. Various cutting tools (knives, saws, blades) hung on the wall. And little butcher stood sandwiched between the bench and the wall. He had a long knife in his hand, and he was slowly carving out a big fat pig.

Mannat stopped at the door. The boy, now a man over fifteen, looked nothing like before. He was completely bald and a web of scars deformed his scalp. His left had only three fingers. His face looked stretched, nose pressed again the face, lips, and eyelids unable to close shut.

Mannat felt a sense of wrongness the moment he entered the room. He couldn’t pinpoint it but instinctively knew the atmosphere was not right. The little butcher shivered slightly and tried to get away from Pandit when he approached him.

Pandit greeted him cheerfully, but Little butcher acted as if he didn’t recognize his younger brother. Pandit also kept a certain distance from him. He didn’t push his brother. Soon they seemed to reach a tactical agreement and Little butcher stopped retreating. He didn’t drop the knife though.

“Look who’s here,” Pandit cheerfully pointed at the door. His brother completely froze where he stood when he finally noticed Mannat. He hurriedly dropped his head to hide his face, even used his hands to shade his features.

Mannat thought the boy didn’t want him there and got ready to leave when little butcher suddenly raised his head and looked straight at him.

He didn’t look human. Anyone else would have screamed, but Mannat stared back, with obvious interest. He could see the little butcher’s whole eyes and the red skin under the eyelids because of his stretched skin. His flat nose made his nostrils look flared. His jaw was slightly crooked and his throat had caved in; he was also missing a portion of it including his Adam's apple.

Mannat couldn’t believe it. What kind of a beast could have done this? How did the Witch save him? The boy standing in front of him was no less than a miracle. No wonder Gande wanted his father to take his mother to the Witch.

“Little… Freak?” A cracking, deep voice came from Little butcher's throat. He tried to close his mouth upon realizing that the crooked, screeching voice belonged to him. His lips flexed, but they were unable to cover his yellow teeth.

He turned away from them and started scratching his thigh with the freehand. It was a nervous tick. Mannat noticed there were no nails on his fingers. The empty nail beds had dried and become brown from lack of blood flow.

“Brother!” Pandit yelled, and little butcher looked at him. He was vigilant but no longer afraid. The change was too swift. Mannat worried about a confrontation, but Pandit knew how to handle him.

“Aren’t you going to cut the meat?” Little butcher saw the pig on the table, snarled at him, and went back to it.

Pandit sighed and beckoned Mannat to enter. Mannat hesitated, but followed and stopped beside him. “Are you all right?” Pandit said.

Mannat shook his head. “Why does he look like that?”

“I don’t know. Ask the Witch for me when you go back. Mother took him to her when the doctors raised their hands. She promised to save him and Mom foolishly believed her. This is the result. Anyways, let’s get your thing done.”

Pandit pulled a bucket from under the table. Unwanted parts like the lower intestine, brain, blood-filled it filthy.

“What do you do with them?” Mannat asked.

“Blood is for manure. The intestine is for making bow strings and water flasks; I think it also has some use in the smithy.”

“To bind handles,” Mannat said. “What about the brain?”

“To feed the bird,”

What bird? Mannat didn’t ask.

Pandit picked two thin skinning knives from the wall. He kept one and gave the other to Mannat.

“The first thing you would do is to slit its throat to drain its blood, but this one doesn’t look like it has much or any left. So well go straight into skinning it.”

“What should I do?”

“You follow me,” Pandit had brought an extra rabbit from the storage room to show Mannat how to do it.

“First, lay your rabbit down on its back. Then pinch the soft skin over its stomach and pull it up. Then slide the knife between the skin and the muscles.” Pandit demonstrated by sliding masterfully sliding the knife into the rabbit and making a cut up to its chest.

“How much of a mess you create depends upon the first cut. Too shallow a cut will cause the skin to tear and will make the whole process tedious. A deep cut will leave you with guts spilling out in your hands.”

“Don’t we have to remove the guts anyways?” Pandit said, wondering if he should try it himself or wait for Pandit to finish.

“There is a huge difference when you consciously do something against, the result of a mistake. A mistake will never give the same result twice.”

Mannat raised a brow in surprise. Pandit smirked.

“What do you think?”

“Is that your father’s saying?”

Pandit clicked his tongue and moved on. He put the knife down by the side and grabbed the rabbit with his hands.

“After you have made the cut then just grab hold of the skin and pull. If your cut is clean--”

Pandit pulled and the whole coat came off the rabbit in one single swoop, leaving the red monstrous remains on the workbench. “Then this is what happens.”

Mannat was speechless.

Pandit cleaned his hand with the towel hanging from the side of the workbench and said, “Now you try,”

Mannat had thoughts of backing out, but he picked up the knife and pinched the rabbit’s skin. His face had gone a shade paler, and his heart was threatening to grow quiet. He meditated for a few breaths of time to calm his mind and went right to it. However, mistakes were made, and the result wasn’t one to strive for. He couldn’t anticipate the softness of the rabbit's skin. His low dexterity and blacksmith training made sure he’d plunge the knife deep into the rabbit's stomach. He didn’t notice it until he was holding its guts.

“That’s bad,” Pandit said and moved to help Mannat, but Mannat suddenly sensed danger. He looked around urgently and saw little butcher staring at him or at the rabbit. Then he attacked.

Pandit came in between and stopped him, but he looked keen on grabbing the rabbit no matter what. He pushed Pandit into the wall away and lunged at Mannat, who threw the rabbit at him after a quick analysis of the situation. Little butcher wanted the rabbit, not him. Mannat gave him the rabbit and should be safe? He had acted correctly. Little butcher hungrily caught the rabbit carcass mid-air, then took it to a corner and dug into it raw like an animal.

Mannat took a sharp breath in and froze where he stood. He watched little butcher tore the rabbit's head and limbs one by one. It was profound hatred. Pandit got on his feet and pulled him out of the workshop. He bolted the door shut behind them. The two of them both stared at each other with minds empty and hearts full.

It took them a while to get their thoughts straight. Mannat spoke first.

“What was that?” A simple question, but it spoke volumes about his impression of Little butcher.

Pandit replied appropriately. “That…was my brother.”