"Hey, Miarra. Hey, can she even hear us?" asked one of the two women standing beside Kit Mi Kai's mother.
"A bird... an omen," Miarra murmured, her eyes fixed on the white bird soaring through the sky, passing over their village.
She tilted her head downward, one hand holding a bunch of kale — vegetables they planned to consume that evening — while her other hand hung empty at her side. As she closed her hand to examine her nails, the nail on her middle finger mysteriously turned white. Anxiety crept across her face.
"What did she just say? A bad omen? Is this another one of her superstitions?" one of the women whispered, chuckling. "Her superstitions never come true. Maybe she's just a crazy woman."
Unlike Haruto's village, which was primarily focused on cattle keeping, this village was distinct. The architecture here was a bit more advanced, with houses made of mud and cow dung, and they practiced agriculture due to the fertile land.
Miarra carefully placed the kales she had plucked into her spacious basket. Beside the farm, her husband and son were waiting for her at a small playground, enjoying a game together.
On the playground, Kut Mi Kai, her husband, was on his knees, concentrating deeply on the game. With one eye closed and a marble in his hand, he aimed to hit his son's marble, flicking his own with his middle finger.
He released the marble with a sharp flick. [Tuat!] The marble sailed through the air, landing perfectly and striking its target.
"I won! I won! Nyenye bubu, nyenye bubu!" Kut Mi Kai chanted in celebration, using playful slang as his son's eyes filled with tears.
Miarra approached, her voice stern but gentle. "What kind of behavior is that towards your son?" she said, leaning in and knocking her husband's bald head with her knuckles.
"Alright, that's enough games for today. Let's head home. I'm hungry, and my mother is cooking for us tonight," she announced.
"Ugh, not her food," Kut Mi Kai groaned, sticking out his tongue. "Her cooking is not exactly welcoming to my taste buds."
"Well, you'll just have to live with it," Miarra replied, chuckling.
Kut Mi Kai lifted their 10-year-old son onto his broad, muscular shoulders, and the family began their walk back toward the village, which was not far ahead.
As Kut Mi Kai and his family walked back home, enjoying each other's company, their son Kit Mi Kai suddenly noticed something.
"Papa, look — smoke!" he shouted, pointing toward the village.
Thick plumes of smoke were rising into the sky from the direction of their village, and soon after, the air filled with the sound of distant screams.
Ahead of them, a woman came running, her face contorted with terror. "Help! Help!" she cried.
Before they could react, a spear pierced through her chest, and she fell to the ground, lifeless.
Miarra, shocked but acting on instinct, moved with lightning speed toward the man who had thrown the spear. The attacker, grinning with pride at his precise aim, barely had time to react before he felt the crushing impact of Miarra's foot on his neck, slamming him headfirst into the dirt.
"Take Kit to a safe place. I'll find my mother and meet you later!" Miarra shouted to her husband.
Kut Mi Kai nodded, immediately grabbing their son and rushing him away from the chaos.
Meanwhile, Miarra darted in the opposite direction, toward the source of the screams. As people fled in panic, she pushed her way through the fleeing crowd, her eyes scanning every face, desperately hoping to spot her mother among the chaos.
She finally spotted her mother, but her relief quickly turned to horror. Her mother was on her knees, with the bandit leader's hand tightly gripping her neck, lifting her off the ground.
"Please, please let her go! She's the only mother I have!" Miarra pleaded, her voice breaking.
"Papa, papa!" called out a ten-year-old boy standing beside the bandit leader, his eyes filled with malice. "Snap her neck, papa, for me!"
Miarra's heart raced. "Please, don't! I'll do anything!" she shouted desperately, holding her hands out in supplication.
The boy sneered, "Kneel down. Get on your knees and maybe your mother will see another day with that ugly face of yours."
Miarra obediently knelt, her forehead touching the ground.
"Show me your cheeks!" the boy demanded, relishing his power.
"If you can take 500 slaps from me, I promise my father will let your mother go. We might even leave your village. Wouldn't you love that? Answer me!"
"Yes," Miarra whispered.
"Say it! Beg for my slaps!" the boy taunted, enjoying the humiliation.
"Please… give me 500 of your slaps," Miarra agreed, her voice trembling with fear for her mother.
The boy began to slap her, counting with each strike.
*"One!"*
*"Ten!"*
*"Thirty!"*
The other bandits stood by, laughing at the spectacle as Miarra's face began to redden and swell.
Suddenly, a large shadow loomed over the boy and Miarra. Before the boy could look up, a foot, taut with muscle and veins, struck him sideways, sending him crashing into one of the houses, leaving a dent in the mud wall.
Dazed, the boy struggled to his feet, his left eye dangling from its socket by a thread of muscle. With his final breath, he screamed, "GIVE ME THE WORLD, PAPA!" before collapsing lifeless to the ground.
In a fit of rage, the bandit leader snapped Miarra's mother's neck, tossing her to the ground, and rushed to his son's body.
Miarra, tears streaming down her face, also rushed to her mother's side. "Mama… my son… Mama… my son…" Both voices intertwined in mourning, their grief echoing through the village.
Miarra stood paralyzed, unable to comprehend what had just happened, her mind numb from the shock.
Amid the sorrow, a soft, innocent voice called out nearby, "Papa, Mama!"
Kut Mi Kai turned to see his own son, standing in the open.
"You stupid, disobedient son! I told you to stay inside the house!" he cried out in fear.
The bandit leader's eyes, wide and red with rage, fixed on the boy. Flames began to flicker around his hands, his voice a growl: "Your son, eh?!"