She studied the scene and realized that she would need to walk through the dense trees, hike up the ridge adjacent to the hill on the right and make her way to the top of the mountain before she could hope to locate where Vanyasa lay. And who knew how many days it would take after that.

Just as she finished scanning a meadow that was right next to the hut, her eyes met those of an eight-foot-tall creature standing not too far away. He held a bucket laden with wooden blocks in one hand and an axe in the other. Behind him, perched on a tree, was the brown eagle that had abducted her. With a dastardly smile and a glimmer in his eyes, the man continued to look at her.

A chill ran down Prithvi’s spine. She stepped away from the window and scurried around the cottage, looking for any sort of weapon. There was nothing she could use. She swatted aside the curtain at the doorway and darted out of the hut. But she hadn’t gone more than a few paces when a long, muscular arm, almost as wide as her entire body, grabbed her by the neck and lifted her up. The man stormed inside and threw her on the floor.

‘Kirtimukha!’ he bellowed, beating his chest. Towering over Prithvi, his lips bore a grim slash of contempt. The behemoth was naked apart from underwear fashioned out of linen. Large copper bangles curved around his swollen biceps and a larger golden one enclosed his neck. His eyes were large, and two small horns jutted out through the long hair that covered his entire face.

Prithvi had heard that name before. Kirtimukha. Oh! Only recently in Gurukul had they been taught of the fiends that plagued the valley’s outskirts. Their name literally meant ‘glorious face’.

The monster upset utensils and wooden stools as he ponderously walked to the fireplace and picked up the teapot, which looked like a toy in his hand. He then shuffled around in his wooden trunk, throwing mugs about, trying to find the right one. A tiny cup appeared. The lid cranked open and the teapot hissed. The kirtimukha poured some steaming tea into the cup and extended his arm towards Prithvi. When Prithvi shook her head, he pointed a plump finger at her.

Prithvi closed both her hands around the cup and saw that it contained a thick yellow liquid. This isn’t tea; this is Madhu.

For a minute, there was absolute quiet—save for the sizzling of the fire and the kirtimukha’s heavy breathing. When he glowered at her and then at the cup, almost as if he was going to bore a hole in it with his eyes, Prithvi reluctantly positioned it close to her lips but did not drink. It was only after the fiend stood up in anger that she let the liquid dribble on to her tongue.

She was instantly reminded of her first day in Vanyasa over a month ago, the day she had had her Adwaita. Fatigue overtook her and she fell asleep on the floor.