The setting sun cast long, dancing shadows across the training grounds of Dronacharya's ashram. Arjun, his body aching from hours of grueling combat, sat slumped against the rough-hewn wall of his thatched hut. His muscles screamed in protest, every movement a searing reminder of the relentless training his perceptor had subjected him to that day.

Dron had been pushing him to his limits, teaching him to fight in the confines of narrow alleyways and cramped spaces. Clubs, swords, spears, javelins, and lances – he had learned to wield them all with deadly efficiency, his body a blur of motion as he parried, dodged, and countered with lightning speed.

But the toll was evident. Arjun's breath came in ragged gasps, his forehead beaded with sweat. He felt a wave of dizziness wash over him, the world tilting precariously on its axis.  His brothers, Yudhishthir, Bheem, Nakul, and Sahadev, watched him with concern.

They had witnessed the intensity of Dronacharya's training firsthand. It was not just the regular lessons with them; but also the special, intense training which Arjun got with Ashwathama, further straining his already demanding schedule, pushing him beyond his perceived limits.

Yudhishthir, ever the observant elder brother, saw the exhaustion etched on Arjun's face. The boy needed rest, a chance to rejuvenate his mind and body. Without uttering a single word, Yudhishthir rose to his feet and walked away from the hut, leaving his brothers to ponder his sudden departure.

With a sense of purpose, he made his way towards Dronacharya's hut. The air was still and heavy, the only sound the chirping of crickets. He found the Guru immersed in his studies, meticulously examining ancient scrolls. Dronacharya, upon noticing Yudhishthir's approach, looked up, a gentle smile gracing his lips.

"Ah, Yudhishthir." he greeted warmly. "Iss samaye mere paas kaise ana huya ?"

"Pranaam acharya. Aur asamaye aane hetu kshama." Yudhishthira humbly prostrated before his esteemed teacher. "Mai aapse ek vinti karne aya hu."

Dronacharya smiled and gestured for him to rise. "Kaho."

With his hands still joined in respectful greeting, Yudhishthira continued, "Yadi aapki aagya ho, toh kya hum Kuru Rajkumar akhet hetu kal jaa sakte hai ? Kya hume ek din ke liye avkaash mil sakta hai ?"

Dronacharya pondered for a moment, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. He knew the young princes had been pushing their limits, their bodies and minds tested to their very core. Though discipline was paramount, he also understood the importance of rejuvenation. A day of hunting, he believed, would not only provide a much-needed break but also hone their skills in a different environment.

"Uchit hai, Yudhishthir." Dronacharya finally declared. "Kal tum Kuru Rajkumar akhet hetu jaa sakte ho."

Yudhishthira beamed. "Dhanyawad acharya."

He bowed his head in gratitude and then turned to leave, eager to share the good news with his brothers.

-------

The morning dawned bright and clear, the air crisp and invigorating. With Dronacharya's permission, the entire cohort of Kuru princes – the Dhratrashtras and the Pandavas – set out on their chariots for a day of hunting. They all were accompanied by a loyal servant carrying the necessary hunting gear and a spirited hunting dog.

While the sons of Dhritrashtra were grateful for a day of rest, they weren't in the slightest way grateful to Yudhishthir who got them this respite. Duryodhan, in particular, felt a simmering annoyance. He appreciated the break from the grueling training, but the thought of being indebted to Yudhishthir, even in this small way, rankled him.

They maintained their outward composure, eager to display their hunting prowess. They spurred their chariots forward, their laughter echoing through the forest as they embarked on their day of adventure.

Arjun was undoubtedly happy about the unexpected day off. The rigorous training under Dronacharya, though incredibly rewarding, had been pushing him to his limits. His muscles ached, his mind felt weary, and a day of respite was certainly welcome.

Yet, a part of him couldn't shake off a tinge of disappointment. He had been making significant strides under Dronacharya's tutelage, learning techniques that were far beyond the scope of their regular training. He witnessed the Guru's unwavering dedication, the meticulous attention to detail, the relentless pursuit of perfection.

Arjun, with his own fierce ambition burning within him, yearned to match that dedication. He knew he had to push himself harder, to strive for excellence in every aspect of his training. This day off, while enjoyable, felt like a momentary detour from the path he had chosen – the path of becoming the greatest warrior of his time.

Yet, he couldn't deny the appeal of a day spent in the open, the thrill of the hunt, the camaraderie of his brothers.

The princes, their spirits lifted, ventured deeper into the forest. They split into smaller groups, each pursuing their own quarry. The air was alive with the sounds of laughter, the snorts of startled deer, and the distant calls of unseen birds.

Meanwhile, the hunting dog, a spirited creature with a nose for adventure, had strayed from the group. Driven by an insatiable curiosity, he veered off the path, his keen senses leading him deeper and deeper into the dense undergrowth. He chased the scent of a small animal, his barks echoing through the stillness of the forest.

The lost dog, driven by instinct stumbled upon a clearing. In the center, an unusual sight met its eyes. A man, his skin the color of rich earth, stood amidst a grove of trees. His body was covered in grime and clad in a rough deerskin. He was completely absorbed, his gaze fixed on something beyond the dog's comprehension.

Before him, an idol of clay, crudely fashioned yet imbued with a sense of power, stood tall. In his hands, he held a bow of regal simplicity, the string taut, an arrow nocked and ready to fly. His focus was unwavering, directed towards the targets – not inanimate ones, but the vibrant blossoms and ripe fruits that adorned the trees surrounding him.

The dog, startled by this unusual sight, let out a sudden, sharp bark. The sound shattered the man's concentration, and he whirled around, his eyes narrowing in annoyance.

The dog, undeterred by the man's sharp glare, continued to bark, its tail wagging excitedly. The man, however, was not amused. With a swiftness that belied his earthy appearance, he drew back the bow and loosed seven arrows in rapid succession. They found their mark with chilling accuracy, sinking deep into the dog's gaping mouth.

The dog yelped in pain, its playful barks replaced by whimpers of fear. It turned and fled, its body trembling, back towards the direction of the Pandavas.

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A/N

You know, I don't like dogs or any animal for that matter (including humans).... But this was straight up cruel....

Ekalavya could've just shooed him away like a normal person... BUT NO, HIS STRENGTH LIES IN ATTACKING A POOR ANIMAL WHO CANNOT ATTACK BACK 💀

And it's actually a myth that Ekalavya was so precise that the dog wasn't hurt.... NO WHERE IS IT WRITTEN THAT THE DOG WASN'T HURT.