By the time they reached the village, night had already settled well into the sky and looked like the moon nestling into a blanket of fluffy pillows.

The village was smaller than any village that Savitri had ever seen before. She could see the end of the small site from the entrance and even a little bit of the forest in front of it (wonderful, more days of walking within trees).

There was only one, thin road that separated the village into two parts. Each side was piled with a large cluster of lanky houses made of mud and straw. Around them, children ran and played with each other, kicking balls around or hitting each other playfully with thin, light twigs. Groups of women in torn but colorful clothes walked past Suman and Savitri as they wandered into the village. They held large pots of water and milk above them, their large hips swaying as they walked. The group that was the closest to Suman giggled when he obliviously passed them, commenting in hushed tones on his muscular build and soft hair.

Savitri giggled. "It seems that you already have some admirers, Suman."

"Hm?" He turned to her. "I do?"

She rolled her eyes. "Didn't you notice? The group of women that just passed us!"

"Oh, they were admiring me?" Suman looked down at his clothes. "I don't see anything to admire."

"Sure, you don't."

"You know, I find it intriguing that whenever a woman takes a fancy to me, it's always you that points it out first. You did it with Ulupi, then with the women here..." Suman smirked. "Are you jealous of them, Savitri?"

"What?" Savitri snapped. "No, of course not. I'm just showing you the world that you're so blind too."

"I'm not blind." Suman blinked. "I just have other things to worry about. Giggling girls admiring me isn't the top of my list."

"Don't you want to get married?" Now Savitri found herself intrigued. "Have a family? You are twenty-four."

Suman sighed. "You sound like Sage Agastya whenever he's lecturing me," he said. He ran a hand through his hair. "Yes, I do want to marry and have children, but now it's particularly the best time to think about my marital affairs, is it?"

"But what about before?" Savitri pressed. "Before you met me? Surely your father would have found you a bride by the time you were sixteen?!"

"Well, he didn't," Suman said briskly. "I suppose he didn't care enough to marry me off. It doesn't matter, anyway." He gazed up at the sky wistfully. "One day, I'll marry a woman that I've fallen in love with, all on my own."

"No swayamvara?"

"Nope." Suman shook his head. "I don't have the mo-!" He broke off speaking abruptly.

"You don't have...?"

"Nothing." He picked at the top of his bow. "Forget it. I'll get married on my own time, maybe after this quest? I'm not sure. I'd have to consult Sage Agastya."

"It figures," Savitri sighed. "The gods always have to be in a good mood to pick your future bride or groom. Service them well." She kicked a rock by her feet. "Or else you'll end up cursed like me."

"Cursed?"

"Doomed to live without her husband. Forced to die alone."

"...Well, maybe." Suman shrugged. "But, you know, a lot of people lose their spouses. We just have to move on and focus on the other parts of our lives. Work, care for the family, form new bonds."

They passed by a steaming, warm drink shop and Savitri paused, allowing for the sore, throbbing pain to kick up pressure in her leg.

"I'm not one of those people," she said sternly. "Without Satyavan, I am nothing, Suman, not even a princess." Then, she smiled. "Now, come on! I'm thirsty, and a lot of the shops are closing." She gestured to the lights that had begun to flicker around them. "Let's see if we can grab something really quickly!"

She dashed into the nearest house before Suman could even lift a finger. Following her, he groaned. "This woman is giving me whiplash," he muttered.

The shop Savitri had chosen hastily was a quaint place. There were only three rooms, two of which were visible from the front door. The cracked, mud home was filled with clay pots that were nestled in all of the corners. Statues of misshapen gods sat beside one of the ghee pots and the only thing on the wall was a framed piece of purple fabric that was splashed with red dots. Hung above the frame was a colorful garland of the same flowers that Suman had been collecting.

Lamps sat on all the open windows. Their flames bent backwards as the cool wind sifted through the open gaps of the home. A single, frail looking man made up of flabby, loose skin and thick bones sat in the center of the room on a woven straw mat. In front of him were different boiling pots of scented teas and other drinks, some of which smelled like alcohol. He stirred the pots and hummed as he did so, the sounds drowned out by the voices of children complaining about their early bedtime in the room behind him and of doors shutting from outside.

"They're retiring early," Savitri whispered to Suman, eyeing him as he gazed wistfully at the cup of alcohol.

"Mhm," he murmured. "It's getting dark. Predators and rakshasas will be waking up." His eyes seemed distant. "They're trying to protect themselves."

Savitri frowned. "With these homes? Everything looks ready to crumble!"

"It's the only protection that they have," Suman said with a shrug. "Not everyone is lucky enough to have a lot of hands to keep repatching the mud. Even then, when would there be time?"

For the first time since they had walked into the room, the humming man looked up at them. His sad, saggy brown eyes uplifted into a half-moon shape as his coarse blackish-gray mustache outlined the wrinkly smile on his lips. He stood with a stumble, fixing his stained white turban and lifting his pants up his waist.

"Welcome, welcome!" He said, gesturing for them to come inside. "My name is Debashish. I-I make drinks and tea for our village. Come, you must be tired. Would you like something to drink? Where are you coming from?"

Savitri and Suman exchanged surprised glances at the open hospitality of the old man, but Suman, who was more than ready to hit the sack for the night, bounced after Debashish. Thankfully, he remembered to drop his sandals by the door.

"My name is Suman," he said. "You make tea? What kind? Oh! Do you have alcohol? Can I have some wine?"

Debashish laughed and settled into his seat again. "Of course, my dear boy. You look quite famished as well. Rhea!" He called for his wife. "Bring some food for our guests."

"Guests?" A woman who looked to be in her late forties appeared from the open doorway behind him. She had long, plaited black hair and gentle but curious black eyes. On her hip was a young, chubby boy, maybe not even a year old. He chewed on his hand, gazing at Savitri intently.

She looks so much like Saibya ma, Savitri thought. Her heart pinched uncomfortably. What were her in-laws doing? How were they doing? She hoped that they were okay, and that the Gods were protecting them for her while she was gone.

"Yes, guests," Debashish affirmed. He looked eagerly at Suman, smiling and showing his yellow teeth. "You will stay for dinner, won't you? And perhaps to rest for the night?"

"Um..." Suman, who was about to take his first sip of alcohol in a very long time, glanced at Savitri, who still stood at the doorway. "Savitri?"

"We don't want to impose on you," Savitri had found her voice. "The drinks would be delightful, but we should keep moving."

"At night?" Rhea asked. "With all the rakshasas and animals out there? No, no." Like a mother, she took Savitri by the arm and led her to sit beside Suman. "You and your husband must rest here for the night. It is not safe out there and we have no complaints about it."

"Thank you." Savitri tried not to laugh when Suman choked on his drink. "But we are not married. My..." she hesitated. "My husband has recently passed."

"Oh, you poor child!" Rhea tittered. "I apologize for the assumption. Here." She took a cup from her husband and handed it to Savitri. "Drink. I will put the children to bed and come join you in a moment."

"Okay, thank you again," Savitri said, watching fondly as Rhea walked back into the room. The children had stopped talking and seemed to have been trying to listen to the conversation between adults, but they quickly scrambled to bed when they heard their mother approaching.

"I am very sorry about your husband," Debashish repeated his wife's words. "How long has it been?"

"A few days," Savitri responded. "I...actually don't remember how long it has been."

Debashish nodded. "Grief is a terrible feeling. I would much rather be killed by a rakshasa than feel it again." He glanced at the framed fabric on the wall, lost in thought, then stood abruptly.

"Well, I should close up." He toddled over to the door and shut it, then blew out the lamps in the windows and piled up thick logs on the sill. "I will go see how my wife is doing with the dinner table. Excuse me."

Savitri watched him leave and sipped her hot but tongue-melting ginger tea. "They're very generous, aren't they?"

Suman hummed. "They're simple folk," he said. "Not arrogant, not cruel. I like them."

"You like them because they gave you wine," Savitri snorted lightly, then pinched her nose. "Do you actually like wine?"

"I do, but I don't drink it often, not since living with Sage Agastya," Suman explained. He sighed. "I need it now, though, otherwise I think I'm going to drive myself insane."

"It is a good grounding drink," Savitri murmured. Her eyes zeroed in on the picture that Debashish had gazed wistfully at. "Who do you think died?"

"Parent, probably," Suman said between sips. He put his cup back where Debashish had taken it from and stood. "Come on. We can afford ourselves one night of rest."

"Suman, we don't have any gold to pay them with."

"Well..." Suman fingered the tip of his sword. He looked down at the thick metal hilt. "I can always trade my sword for shelter."

"What? Absolutely not!" Savitri replied firmly. "That...why? That's yours!"

"It's better than my bow," Suman said indifferently. "Besides, I can always make a new one."

"You are finished?" Debashish trotted back into the main room. He beamed when he noticed their empty cups. "Good, good. Come, we have food ready for you and mats to sleep on. I hope you do not mind our children. Some of them snore."

"That's okay," Savitri smirked and nudged Suman's side. "I also have a baby that snores."

He glared at her, but Debashish looked confused. "You do?"

She laughed. "It's a joke," she explained. "I don't really have a child."

"Ah." Debasish nodded. "I understand...I think."

He led them through the door behind his mat and into the room that was left of the main entrance. There, within the much larger room were four banana leaves filled with heaps of dal, rice and cooked vegetables. A cup of water sat beside each banana leaf and a few feet behind the makeshift dining table were two wide, grass sleeping mats covered with some thin blankets.

Debashish led Suman and Savitri to their seats and took one opposite of Suman. Rhea soon joined them, this time babyless and carrying some more blankets.

"They don't need that many blankets, Rhea," Debasish said, his tone tinged with annoyance. "It's warm outside, they will be fine."

"It's just a precaution," Rhea replied and dropped the blankets on the beds. She sat opposite of Savitri and smiled briefly, if not, tiredly.

A distracted prayer left Savitri's lips as everyone chanted the blessing and began to eat vigorously, specifically Suman, who ate like a carnivorous beast. He had no care in the world about his manners or how he looked like to the other members of the family, especially since they were guests in another person's home!

"Suman," she hissed, poking him with her toe. "Stop eating like an animal!"

"Why?" Suman asked, his mouth stuffed with rice. "I'm hungry."

"Then eat more like a human being, please," Savitri said. "And don't talk with your mouth full!"

"So, where are you both heading to?" Debashish asked, saving Suman from a lengthy scolding. "We rarely have any new visitors."

"We're going to Kailash for...a pilgrimage," Savitri answered. "For Lord Shiva. We're trying to reach Darchan."

"Ah, well it's good to see some young people still respecting the Gods," Debashish said a little proudly. "If only my sons understood that."

Savitri wiped a piece of rice from her lip. "How many children do you have?"

"Seven," Rhea answered for her husband. A shadow cast over her sad eyes. "We used to have eight."

"Oh?" Suman's voice piqued and Savitri resisted a grimace. Don't say it, Suman. Don't say it. "What happened to him? Her?"

...He said it.

Savitri sighed heavily and wished they were sitting at a table so that she could vent her frustration out and kick him. Alas, she couldn't, so she could only sit there in the now darker atmosphere as both husband and wife sat quietly, staring at their almost empty leaves.

Suman looked at Savitri, confused. "What did I say?" He asked.

"Nothing, son," Debashish said. He reached over to pat his wife's hand. Her eyes were a bit watery. "It's just...one of our daughter's, Aarvi...she was killed recently by a leopard in the forest." His ribcage, which was visible through his thin skin, trembled. "She was playing outside and I told her to come inside. I don't know what happened, but...she never did." He chewed on the inside of his mouth. "We found her a week later...well, her scattered body parts."

"Some of her clothes were still on her body, what was left of it, at least," Rhea picked up when Debashish stopped talking. "We had the funeral procession soon after. It's been a few months since then."

"Oh...I'm terribly sorry." A sting of melancholy zipped through Savitri's mind. "That's a very horrible thing to experience, losing a child."

"Yes, I am sorry as well," Suman added. Now he picked at his food slowly, scooping pinched handfuls into his mouth at a sloth's pace. "It was extremely rude of me to pry."

"It's alright." Debashish collected himself. "It has been a long time since Aarvi's passing. I know that she is in a better, much happier place than she was on this cursed planet."

"We don't let our children go out alone anymore," Rhea said. She piled up all the leaves in front of her. "We have learned our lesson. Perhaps we cannot get Aarvi back, but she is in heaven looking down on us, protecting her family and her siblings."

"Wouldn't you want to bring her back, though?" Savitri asked. "If you had the chance, would you?"

"No, I absolutely would not," Debashish answered. "Why would I bring her back to the world that took her? Life here is hard, my dear. It's not easy to live in constant fear and in poverty. This village would not be a good place for her."

"But...don't you miss her?"

"Oh, I do," he agreed. "I miss her every day, my sweet Aarvi. But I have seven other beautiful children and a lovely wife. They can never replace the part of my heart that belongs to Aarvi, but they are part of the reason why I keep moving on." Debashish paused. "She would want me to be happy, because that's how she always was. Be happy, raise your head, and keep going. That's the best thing that I can do...It's the best thing that anybody can do."

With a whizzing mind and a heavy stone in her stomach that pulled her weight down, Savitri watched Debashish leave with those parting words. Silently, she got up like a ghost and wandered to her bed, ignoring Suman as she did so.

"Too much to take in?" She heard him ask.

"A little," she murmured. Her eyes burned. "Aarvi's ending wasn't fair."

"Life isn't fair, Savitri." Suman grunted as he laid down and turned on his side, facing away from her. "Get used to it."

It'll take me a while to get used to, that's for sure, Savitri thought. Too many emotions fumbled for power inside of her like an insane horse. The overwhelming desire to cry crashed in her stomach, anger fumed out of her ears, and pain trickled from her eyes.

Just go to sleep, Savitri, she told herself. When you wake up in the morning, everything will be okay.

She closed her eyes, aware that her lips were still moving, but in a language and volume that she wasn't able to understand. The next time she woke up, though, it wasn't morning. There was light outside - bright orange light that looked all too familiar - but it certainly wasn't morning.

What...? Her mind was foggy.

"Rakshasa!" Somebody screamed from outside. "We're being attacked!"