Undesirable

THE HOUND

There were hills all around. A few houses here and there at a distance were found by the brown eyes of Joy. He saw the white-winged birds in a group flying to the north. As he turned, the morning star rose behind him and between the peaks of the distant mountains. It was not wrong to say that the sky had a few clouds, though the blue world was still there, and underneath that, the black-flamed guy asked joy that why did he like the village?

Joy gave him plain sight, putting his hand on his flamed shoulder and saying, 'Let's go, Ciceroni. I do not have a good tongue to put the words forward for you.'

Smiling, Ciceroni patted the hands on his shoulder, and whispered, 'I like the way you respond, little boy. But this smugness, ye better hide it when you face the evil in me.'

Overlooking, Joy walked downhill, against the wind from the south. Green bushes and the yellow rocks were in his way, though the shadows of the trees were far below, therefore, his and his companion's shadow enlarged as the star elevated in the blue sky.

It was the lucid world. But vividness was in the structures that were built there: some places were filled with the red brick mansions with grey pillars of the gate; some were the green; two of them had a pond and windmill at the front, and at the furthest edge, there was a white cascade made by the mating of two hills, and from that valley, the water was directed by a small, golden turbine: a yellow tower was accompanying the flow of the white water that vanished into the ground as reached to the farmland at the bottom, but to the mountains ahead, the stream magically appeared that was seen from the distance. It was the eerier extent of the village. Because amidst a few high peaks, it was formed. And its mere silver gate was secured by old Qarsha Yhill.

When a young boy and the magical man entered in the village, Qarsha told them that he was expecting them, and he welcomed them willingly, saying, 'It has beheld a lot in terms of queerness. But it has not been through any war so far...fortunately. We are all merry people like you in the peace. And we all strange folks call this land, Aulerda the last home. We are defending it from all the aspects of being in the chain. I hope you are here for the same or are the Hounds we have been waiting to join us for your vigorous notion.'

Ciceroni replied to him, 'I have not survived the strong gravity to fall by some words, old man. But if we are fated, we may be your fortunate, but not the Hounds.'

Old man Qarsha laughed and broke two twigs from the root of a massive Banyan beside the grand pillars, and gave them, saying, 'Whatever you call it, I know it is the fate of Aulerda for your revered ingress. But I bid you farewell now...' and he vanished into the tree.

They saw the same tree when they reached the farmland, and there was the world of lime tree avenue behind it, which lead them to another hill and to the noon.

'Do you want me to go ahead, Joy?' asked Ciceroni, bearing an evil smile. 'Or you would not go sluggish like this...'

Joy did not answer him. He put the stick on each step to define his next move and kept his pace till dusk, when they reached to a hut of the second hill, though it was too tall to call a hill, and white rocks were set on it like the zig-zag dots. However, their road was straight, which took them to the straw-roofed hut, and they saw a mythical sign on its brown door.

'Mihir...you have led me to an ancient door, my little friend,' said Ciceroni, throwing the stick. He cracked his finger joints, adding, 'So long I have been waiting to overcome it in my hold. My craving...you are indeed my friend, Joy!' And he ran to the door like flames in the woodland. It was so fierce that his surrounding was dazzling by a thin ivory ellipse. As in the flash, he was moving, a little yellowish spark was seen on his eyeballs, and there was a burst of laughter on his face.

Joy was shocked as he was thrown back by the force of his companion, and there was a banyan for his back support where he was hurled and knelt on the grassy ground. Before he could raise his head, blood oozed out his mouth. 'Shit! What is this, now?' he whispered in the cold night.

It was immensely beautiful to watch the crescent moon and the clouds and the stars in the night, but down on the hill, it was all dark as the Ciceroni manoeuvred. The white rock that used to shine in the night gave their glint to make an aura around the threatful man.

But for good, there was another banyan at the foot of the hut. Qarsha came out of it and stopped the magical man by holding his head.

'Oh, my hasty friend,' said he, looking coldly into the madman's eyes. 'You are quite chilled even though you approached the house of the Mihir. May I know of your aim and your struggle?'

Ciceroni stepped back, folding his hand. 'As expected, old man,' said he, with a bright smile. 'I have been watching you and trying to figure out what race you belong. Now that I can tell your origin, I am wise enough to proceed ahead. But I can only answer if you tell me why you are following us.'

Old man looked back into the dark where Joy collapsed on the root. He walked past the stygian flames, saying, 'You are reckless, lord Cilus.' He lifted the boy on his arm and trudged to the hut door, adding, 'But I may welcome you in your home and a few words later on when these new ears are ready for harking my merry tale...'

*

Thank you!