Chapter 2: chapter 2

The forest loomed vast and inscrutable, its canopy a patchwork of shifting shadows that dappled the forest floor. Sanmayi pressed her palm against the rough bark of an ancient sal tree, her breaths shallow and ragged. Vasudha, her nursemaid, crouched nearby, her weathered face taut with strain. Both had traveled far, their once-fine garments now tattered and stained with earth and sweat."Child, we cannot tarry here," Vasudha whispered, her voice barely audible over the rustle of leaves. "Their hounds can scent us if we linger."Sanmayi nodded, though her legs trembled with fatigue. Her mind raced back to Amaravati, to the gilded halls that had once been her sanctuary. She could still hear the crash of the gates, the clamor of soldiers, and her mother’s scream—a sound that echoed through her even now."Do you think..." Sanmayi hesitated, her voice breaking. "Do you think they still live?"Vasudha did not answer immediately. She busied herself adjusting the straps of the satchel slung over her shoulder. "You must not dwell on what cannot be changed, child. We are alive, and for that, we must give thanks.""But what is life without them?" Sanmayi asked bitterly."A chance," Vasudha replied, gripping her arm. Her tone softened. "And a chance is all we need."Their progress was slow and torturous. Hunger gnawed at them like a persistent rat, and Sanmayi's stomach churned with emptiness. Once, she had complained of cold soup or stale bread. Now, even the sight of a wild berry sent a surge of desperate hope through her."Do not eat the dark ones," Vasudha warned, slapping her hand away as she reached for a cluster. "The forest is a clever trickster. Some fruits will nourish, others will send you to the ancestors before your time."Sanmayi scowled but obeyed. She trusted Vasudha with her life, though the woman’s words often carried the sting of nettles.As night fell, the forest grew colder, the chirping of crickets mingling with distant howls. Vasudha gathered dry leaves and twigs, arranging them into a makeshift bed."Rest," she commanded, though she herself remained vigilant, clutching a branch she had sharpened into a crude spear.Sanmayi lay down, her body aching but her mind refusing to quiet. The darkness felt alive, pressing against her skin like a living thing."Vasudha," she whispered."What is it, child?""Do you think I’ll ever feel safe again?"The older woman sighed. "Safety is a luxury we cannot afford to dream of. Not now." She paused. "But strength—that, we can aspire to. And with strength, safety may follow."It was little comfort, but Sanmayi clung to it like a drowning sailor to driftwood.---The days blurred into one another, an endless trek through undergrowth and brambles. Sanmayi’s slippers had long since worn through, and her feet bled from cuts and blisters. Vasudha found them roots to chew and once trapped a rabbit with a snare fashioned from her scarf."I did not know you were a hunter," Sanmayi remarked as she watched Vasudha skin the animal with swift efficiency."I was a nursemaid first, but a soldier’s daughter always," Vasudha replied. "The lessons my father taught me were not meant for a palace, but they serve well in a wilderness."Sanmayi nodded, her admiration for Vasudha growing with each passing day.It was on the third night that they heard the crack of a branch too deliberate to be the wind’s doing. Vasudha tensed immediately, her spear held aloft."Stay behind me," she ordered.But Sanmayi did not listen. Curiosity, fear, and something else—perhaps the faintest ember of defiance—compelled her to peek around Vasudha’s shoulder.A man emerged from the shadows, clad in the black-and-gold armor of Amaravati. His face was grim, his sword glinting in the moonlight."Well, what have we here?" he said, his voice oily with menace. "The lost princess and her hound?"Sanmayi froze, her breath caught in her throat.Vasudha stepped forward, the tip of her spear aimed at his chest. "Stay back, or you’ll regret this night."The soldier laughed. "A brave nursemaid. But bravery won’t save you."He lunged, and Vasudha parried with surprising agility. The two clashed, their movements quick and brutal. Vasudha managed to land a blow to his arm, drawing blood, but the soldier was stronger, and his sword soon found its mark. Vasudha crumpled to the ground with a cry.Sanmayi screamed, the sound tearing from her throat unbidden. The soldier turned to her, his face twisted in a sneer."Your turn, little bird," he said, advancing.Sanmayi’s gaze darted to Vasudha’s satchel, where the hilt of a dagger gleamed faintly. Without thinking, she dove for it, her fingers closing around the weapon. The soldier laughed again, mocking her clumsy grip."What will you do with that, princess? Scratch me?"But when he lunged, she acted on instinct, driving the blade into his chest with all her might. His laughter turned to a gurgling gasp as he staggered back, the dagger lodged deep.Sanmayi stared at her hands, slick with his blood, and felt a cold numbness settle over her. The soldier collapsed, his body motionless."Sanmayi," Vasudha rasped, pulling herself upright. Her face was pale, her tunic soaked with blood."I... I killed him," Sanmayi stammered."You saved us," Vasudha corrected, though her voice was weak. "And you must not weep for him. He would not have wept for you."Sanmayi knelt beside her, pressing her hands to Vasudha’s wound. "You’re hurt. What do we do? Tell me!"Vasudha gave a faint smile. "You learn, child. You grow. And you survive."As the forest swallowed them in darkness once more, Sanmayi felt something within her shift. The tears she longed to shed refused to come. Instead, a grim determination took their place.Her innocence lay dead alongside the soldier, but in its stead was born a resolve as sharp as the dagger she now held..