It had been a week since Raivy had met Itara and discovered what had happened to his mother. Raivy had spent that entire week in his hut, processing his thoughts and filling the gaps regarding what Itara had not seen from the incident. He did not write down any of these thoughts in his diary for safety.

There must have been a strong reason that made my father stab Mother so brutally. He is not the kind of person who takes revenge on people unless they harmed others. What might have made him erupt to that extent? What did Mother do? Did she harm someone dear to Father? Steal? Or even kill? The possibilities are endless…

But then, what about that strange blue sword Itara spoke of? I have never seen my father wield a sword my entire life... Does such a thing as a blue-bladed sword even exist? Just what exactly is my father hiding from us? Is his current personality no more than a façade? Did Mother know about any of this?

Also, the fact that he enjoyed stabbing her means... damn, it still pains me to even think about it... it means… Is he used to stabbing people? Was Father working with some dark society in the past?

He came to Madarma when he was thirty-three years old, a year before I was born. Before that, he was living as a traveling merchant, and now he is in his late fifties. Linking the blue sword and the stabbing to his simple merchant life presents a logical error—they are incompatible. I'm sure he lied about his occupation.

Wait a minute... if I'm not mistaken, both Oran and Father settled in their respective villages during the same month twenty-five years ago... Did they know each other before they settled in the two villages?...Damn, the headache.

Raivy had been getting intense headaches from thinking too much. It had begun frequenting his brain two days ago. He decided to fix it with the usual cure—leaving the hut and heading to the waterfall cliff. The sound of the running water and the vast forest greenery it overlooked soothed him immensely.

The waterfall was a ten-minute walk from his hut. When he reached the waterfall's cliff, he noticed a small deer drinking from the stream about a thousand feet below him. It was a great opportunity for Raivy to try hunting it. He had not eaten meat for a while because he had not had the guts to kill an animal.

In fact, during the last six months, the only occasions on which he had gotten the chance to eat meat were when he had gone to visit his parents. Since living in a forest was full of surprises, he had to keep a short sword with him at all times, along with his mother's blue letter.

Raivy reached for the short knife he always hid on his back and unsheathed it. But as soon as he did so Raivy sheathed it back again. Neither guts nor appetite this time, he thought.

Instead, Raivy sat at the edge of the waterfall and was satisfied by just watching the deer drink from the transparent stream of water.

It sure feels good to have no worries… All it needs is food, water, and shelter—freedom from all the poisonous thoughts our hearts are filled with. Raivy could not help but envy animals; he sometimes wondered if they were happier than humans.

But while Raivy was sitting at the water cliff, a notion of height fright bit into him after he peered to the pound at the very bottom of the waterfall. Such thoughts never affected Raivy, but his resistance grew weaker after he had heard Jigan's words that he would try to commit suicide.

If I fall and kill myself, what will I lose? Who will cry for my sake? Father? That is if the father I know is not just a mask... and perhaps, to some extent, his wife, Velica. Mother no longer has any tears, and the rest of the villagers will soon forget about me. I have not involved myself in their lives anyway. But, what will I gain? I won't have to worry anymore about my mother's death or struggle with this mental dilemma about who my parents actually are. I also won't be thrown into that battlefield called Metzra... My future is dark, not worth living for... I wonder, do those who committed suicide ever regret doing it?

"So, this is where you have been," said Vira, who was walking toward Raivy in his human form.

Raivy's thoughts vanished. He had never liked people interrupting his thought process. So, Raivy turned his head toward Vira, gave him an annoyed look, and then turned his head back, looking down at the stream again.

"Hey, I brought you some good news, yet you are ignoring me?" exclaimed Vira. "Anyway, I am hungry, so wait a bit."

Raivy did not turn his head toward Vira, but the unusual chewing sound caught his attention. Curious, Raivy turned his head and saw Vira chewing on a field of tall grass in delight.

"Grass?" asked Raivy.

"Hmm? The other day I found a horse chewing on it so I thought I should try it," said Vira. “I am glad I did. It is so flavorful and crunchy, unlike the plain grass in Metzra. You seem hungry... Want some?” Vira pulled up a handful of grass and walked toward Raivy.

What the hell? Raivy thought.

"No… no. I am fine," said Raivy. "Not hungry at all. In fact, it would give me a serious stomachache if I ate it."

Vira gave Raivy a serious look. "You dare decline food from the commander of the horsenakes?" said Vira. "Open your mouth, spoiled brat. Get used to it; you never know when you will end up without food besides grass."

Spoiled brat? I don't get why he wants a spoiled brat to lead their race, Raivy thought.

Vira grabbed Raivy's right shoulder and seemed about to force the grass, mixed with dirt, into his mouth. The grass touched Raivy's lips, but as soon as it did, Vira dropped the grass on Raivy's clothes and burst out laughing.

"Huh?" said Raivy.

"You looked so sad. So, I thought I would cheer you up," said Vira. "You seriously thought I would make you eat grass? I am not a stupid fronkey. My body is a hybrid of a horse and a snake, so it is normal for me to eat grass, unlike you... for now."

The last two words made little sense.

"For now? What do you mean?"

"Do not worry about it. Anyway, the news I am about to tell you is more important, Raivy... Itara passed away."

It took Raivy a while to process Vira's words... "How did she die?"

"No one knows yet. Every villager I asked came up with a different story."

"Fine, but, did you hear when her husband Oran will hold the funeral?"

"Yes, it will be tomorrow."

"We have to be there. I have to pay my respects to my mother's friend. I hope there isn't anything suspicious behind her death... I have had already been through enough."