Kaliyug, Upganasthan, Madra Pradesh, Kamboj Mahajanpad, Aryavart (Present day Afghanistan and Syria)

As the sun lingers near the horizon, the sounds of the forest start changing from languid to urgent. The sound of deer crossing the shallow creek, the shrill calls of parent birds calling their children back home and a faint mist draping the valley cupped at all sides by mountains.

A twenty year old woman wipes the sweat off her brow with her dark green angavastram. She's wearing a dirt brown blouse and dhoti. Her hair are tied in a bun yet there are hair strands all over her face. She has a wooden bow over her shoulder and a quiver is leaning against the tree she's hiding behind. She takes an arrow and dips its tip in a vial tied to her waist and takes her position. She bends her right knee and balances herself on the toes of her left foot.

"Perfect," she mutters, pushing a lock of hair off her eye.

Ah! There he is! No matter how many times you've hunted them, you still could not prepare yourself to witness the enchanting lure of Gandharvas. There he was, standing tall at his six feet draped in golden dhoti and brilliant red angavastram. His eyes were like a deer's and his lips opened like the petals of rose. He balanced his Sitar and...

The woman closed her left eye and aimed her arrow at the Gandharva. Before he started singing or crossed the boundary opening to the realm of the sacred deer, she has to hit him...

"Save me! Please don't kill me!" Saranya heard a pleading male voice. Are there more than one Gandharvas? Is it possible that one of them had captured a poor, clueless traveller? Or is that merely an illusion?

But Saranya could not take chances. She knew she was not cut out for this job of hunting Gandharvas and other supernatural beings. In fact, she had always found her father's work boring. But when after King Ajatashatru's sudden death, they shut down the university at the capital city indefinitely and she lost her job as a Sankhyashastra teacher, she had no other option than following her father's footsteps for a living. Moreover, she had left her habit of writing poetry and stories after that maniac incident involving the Queen. She was not in the capital but those who were present there told everyone at the village that on the King's funeral, everyone gathered outside the palace to mourn for the queen and the queen had huge utensils of honey poured on everyone present there. Fortunately, the minister Chaturvarma timely saw the queen going towards the cage to free the bees on the people outside the palace and a big tragedy was prevented. Before the king's death, the queen used to be a very wise and cultured ruler. She was an eminent poet herself and each year organized a contest for poets all over the kingdom. It was Saranya's dream to take part in that contest and recite her poems in front of the queen.

Anyways, she followed the direction from where the voice was coming. A young man was kneeling before a Gandharva who pointed his sword towards him. The man's face was snotty and his eyes were red for crying. Sheesh! The guy was so dirty. Saranya pointed her arrow towards the Gandharva but the man ran towards her at such a speed that her balance failed and she fell backwards on the ground with the man over her. In the hullabaloo, the Gandharva fled the scene.

He was the dirtiest, filthy person Saranya had seen. His clothes and face were covered with mud, soot, and runny nose. His saucer-like eyes and funny turban on his head made him appear more ridiculous than the royal clown. He could be at most seventeen or eighteen years old.

"Get away from me," Saranya was repelled at the man. Her hair got untied in the process and she was trying them again.

"Thank you," the young man said again, coming towards Saranya to hug her, "If it were not you, my mother would have died from crying in the grief of my death."

"Don't come closer," Saranya blocked the boy.

"My name is Surya," the boy said, "What's your name?"

"Saranya," Saranya gave a one word answer.

"Our names are so similar," Surya laughed stupidly.

"Why are you following me?" Saranya asked.

"I don't have the guts to cross the forest alone," Surya said, "I'll wait for someone from my village to accompany me."

"Till then?"

"I'll live with you."

"What?"

"I can cook, wash clothes, clean house. I'll do whatever you say," Surya pleaded.

Saranya didn't know how to do housework and her father had more than once told her explicitly a girl her age should know at least basic housework. Maybe if Surya helps her mother with housework, no one will bother her.

"OK," Saranya said, "But you'll only do what I order you to do. Nothing more. Nothing less."

"As you wish," Surya whispered.

Hello guys! This is my second fantasy story. (The first one was not so good). Please let me know what you think of this chapter.