She wasn’t allowed to utter that forbidden name. Sarita, Sarita. Sarita, who smoked marijuana. Sarita, who slept with the son of her father’s friend. Sarita, who ran away overseas with her beloved.

Secretly, Sarita financially supported Dahlia, too.

‘But you, my little girl, you are the best. Even when you were a baby, you hardly cried, and you were always very obedient,’ he patted Dahlia’s head, as if stroking a bunny.

Lulled by his reminiscences, the old man drifted off to sleep. Dahlia watched his eyes close. Night paves the way for little princesses to engage in their petty betrayals.

For everything that I cannot do like Adit, Rama and Sarita.

Dahlia moved away from her father and tiptoed towards the red door.

She pressed down on its carved handle. The door creaked open. Air surged from behind it, carrying not the stale smell of dust that had settled indoors for too long, but the fresh moisture of dew that formed on leaves at night. Rather than the hardness of the floor, her feet now trod on soft, cold grass. Here was a forest and above it a black sky topped by an eternal rainbow. Crimson, chocolate and indigo blended as beautifully as a gaping wound. Her alternate world – the world behind the door, where the owl never sleeps and the rustling branches create a language of their own.

Ah, welcome back to our forest, child of humankind. Soon the celebration will begin. Look, they have gathered around the campfire.

She hadn’t known of life in the forest. A group of men and women as beautiful as fairies smiled at her. Plant tendrils, twisting like snakes, supplied their clothing.

Come, come, sit here.

She wanted to know what it felt like to be one of them. To dance to music she had never heard, partake of the most mouth-watering fruits, wear a constant smile. But she was reluctant to join – it was as though they spoke a different tongue. Dahlia settled herself on a rock not far away, admiring the festivities.

All of a sudden, she felt the ground beneath her tremble and then crack. She looked at the dancers. Had their frolicking caused it? No, no; they didn’t seem to notice. Something was amiss. Careful to avoid drawing anyone’s attention, she withdrew slowly and hid behind a tree. Yes, something was amiss. And whatever that something was felt very close.

Slowly, the glow of the campfire dimmed then disappeared entirely, swallowed by an enormous shadow. Dahlia squinted, trying to peer at the danger that was taking shape. A wolf, but far too huge for an ordinary wolf. It was as tall as a tree.