A short hooded figure appeared near Mary's village. He became angry when he heard that they were there and almost ran towards Mary's house which was at the centre of the village. He said to himself: It is not a village; rather some houses in a forest. After crossing a couple of houses, he walked on a trodden path into the heart of the forest before coming across another house. He knocked at its door. An Orag lady came out and asked something in her native language. The short hooded figure just mumbled, "Two kids, two kids…"
At first the lady appeared surprised and then pointed toward the thick forest. He nodded, snaked through the trodden path and felt angrier every moment he took a step into the forest. He knew he should not be angry and told himself: This moment demands calm reasoning and decisive action; not anger. Anger will make you impotent. Spit the anger please. He really spat on the ground and then advanced a few meters.
From a distance, he observed a hut but could barely see its backside. He advanced few steps more and took a turning on his path but his fiftyish eyes could not clearly discern anything. But in the cloudy semi-dark evening light, he could see the door of the hut was open. He took a few cautious steps and from the back of a hydrangea bush, he saw a tall masked lady pointing her gun toward the door.
"Maya," he shouted and got his gun out of his pocket and ran toward the hut.
He accidentally stumbled upon a small boulder protruding from the ground and fell on the ground hitting his head hard. Luckily he was not feeling dizzy though he felt a sharp tinge in his left toe and knee. Then he heard the bang of a gun and the sharp cry of a young girl.
His breath stopped.
He gathered himself and stood up; tried to run but could not, because his left toe was bleeding. As he limped forward, he felt life suddenly returning to his legs. Then he managed to limp into the forest and crossed the hut. Out of fear, he almost fell when he sighted the silhouette of a tall figure, but balanced himself by clutching a strong branch of a tree. He then mustered some courage by pointing his gun at the tall figure running towards him.
He aimed at the figure and fired with a loud bang. His arm jerked but the figure stopped dead. The tall figure turned back to acknowledge the shooter through the eye openings on her mask. The short hooded man expected the tall figure to drop dead, but this was not to be as she clutched her left shoulder and turned back and ran faster.
The hooded man observed that a car was waiting for the figure, not a furlong away. It will be futile to follow: thought the hooded figure as he walked slowly to the hut. As if not daring to face the truth, he peeped through the threshold of the hut and it took some minutes before his eyes could adjust to the semi darkness of the room.
Then he noticed a young girl crying. Lying on her lap was a wounded handsome young boy. One native woman beside the girl was crying at someone inside the hut. On the floor of the hut the short hooded figure cast a long shadow, though not so prominent because it was a cloudy day. The girl's gaze followed the shadow up to the hooded figure near the threshold. She gasped, "Papa!"
The hooded figure uncovered his hood and entering the hut cried, "Veronica, my dear."