There would be no Gurukul that day. With the acharya’s permission, they went through a hidden gate in the wall above the Seven Hills, which was a ten-minute walk away from the section above Kalanag that they had used. Macchli tagged along, refusing to leave, and together they went into the Dronagiri woods. Thus began their journey, threaded with zigzagging, shrub-laden paths and mountain goats. The teacher guided them with fierce energy, walking briskly despite his impediment. He barely broke a sweat. His movement was silent and effortless, and his breaths measured. At times the path dipped and sometimes it climbed. Macchli started to lead the way, sniffing out walkable terrains.

‘She’s truly delusional, trying to take on the Child of the Valley,’ Fayza said to Idhika, catching up with her.

Acharya Ashwini had overheard. He asked, ‘Aarti?’

‘Yes,’ Fayza said. ‘She’s the one who led Prithvi to Pataan, which is why we followed her.’

The teacher absorbed this information and nodded. An hour had passed. ‘We should pick up our pace,’ the acharya said. ‘Let us pause here, take one gulp of the spring water. It will refresh you.’

The cold water hit Aman’s dry mouth, and he found it near impossible to stop after only one sip. Following this brief pause, without food or sleep, they were back on course, crackling dry leaves under fast feet. Thoughts of Prithvi were uppermost in Ujal’s mind, and he was the quietest of the lot. He constantly murmured the names of his tribal gods and marvelled at how just the previous day the biggest thing on his mind was his desire to be the Eka. He would have been in charge, and Prithvi never would have dared to cross the Seven Hills. There was so much good, he believed, that could come about if only his sister listened to him. And, of course, as the Eka, Ujal could have as much sura paniyam as his heart desired.

By noon, it was clear that they were lost, having turned the same shoulder of the mountain three times. Hope was down to its final embers. Ujal voiced his concern, ‘It is almost midday. We have to find another way to locate her.’

‘But how?’ Fayza asked.

‘One more look in the direction the eagle disappeared is all we need,’ Acharya Ashwini said.

‘We could climb up this mountain and check,’ Aman suggested.

‘No, that’ll take too long.’ Acharya Ashwini stepped off the delineated path into the soft bed of grass. ‘There is a faster way.’

13

Varunasmati

THUD! Prithvi woke up to the sound of a burning log giving way. She lay on patted cold mud, but it felt like a bed of nails. Her shoulders screamed in pain when she tried to move, and she saw streaks of dried blood running down her chest—injuries from the grasp of the eagle. One by one, as each of her senses awakened, Prithvi probed her memory for answers. Her head churned with images of Pataan, being carried by the eagle and flying over hills. Her bow and quiver had fallen below on her journey.