The grass rustled as something approached Yousafer and Yuray with alarming speed.
"You won't escape again!" a voice cried out. Suddenly, a plump, panting rabbit leaped from the brush. Mid-air, an arrow pierced its neck; the creature slammed into a tree and fell to the ground, dead. Droplets of fresh blood splattered onto the yellow grass, dripping slowly into the earth.
Yousafer and Yuray turned toward the origin of the arrow.
"I got it! I got it!"
A voice echoed from the tall weeds, and a moment later, a youth with a cheerful face emerged. His green eyes shimmered with a bright, vibrant light, fueled by the excitement of his hunt. He laughed aloud—a sound that seemed to be the forest's own echo, a blend of childhood innocence and wild vitality.
However, the moment he noticed the two strangers staring at him, his laughter died. His face flushed a deep crimson, and shock washed over his features. He instantly pulled an arrow from the fur-covered leather quiver on his back, nocked it, and aimed toward the pair. After a brief scrutiny, he demanded, "Who are you?"
The youth appeared to be the same age as Yousafer and Yuray. He wore a tunic made of white-spotted hide covering his upper half, and the lower half of his body was wrapped in similar fur. His curly brown hair was tangled with faded yellow leaves, looking as if it hadn't been washed in an eternity. Threads of sunlight filtered through the canopy, playing upon his hair and making the autumn leaves look like a crown of dim gold upon his head.
He remained cautious, waiting for an answer. Yousafer looked at the calm, eyes-closed Yuray, who in turn tilted his head toward Yousafer.
Yousafer spoke, his voice laced with irritation: "What's wrong with you, you wretch? Pointing your arrow at me! Do you wish for death? Is this how people ask questions?"
The boy hesitated, his voice trembling: "I asked a question... answer it. Who are they? Are they with the factories?" he thought, his hand shaking.
Yousafer gave the boy a piercing look, his lips curling into a sneer. "And what do you think? That we would tell you the truth?"
The boy felt a weight in his heart, unable to find a retort against Yousafer's unsettling gaze. He took two steps back, trembling, still aiming his bow while forgetting his prize on the ground.
Sensing the boy's terror, Yuray sought to reassure him, thinking he might be their guide back to the path. "We are only passing through," Yuray said softly. "Do you have a problem? Haven't you seen travelers before?"
The youth kept his eyes locked on Yousafer—who gave him a chill down his spine—but Yuray's words calmed his racing heart. "Are you from outside the forest?" he whispered.
Yuray lifted the bag from his shoulder. "Look, all our belongings are here."
"You aren't factory supervisors, are you?" the boy asked again.
Yousafer's left eyebrow shot up in curiosity. "Factory supervisors? Are there factories in this forest?"
Seeing Yousafer's genuine confusion, the boy relaxed slightly and lowered his bow, though he remained wary. He clenched his teeth and summoned his courage. "Can I see your wrists?"
Yousafer realized the boy didn't fully trust them. He took a step forward, causing the youth to jump back. "Stop! Show me your wrist from there!"
Yousafer smiled, glancing at his hands. "Which one do you mean?"
"Your left wrist," the boy pointed.
Yousafer pulled back his sleeve. "Here. What is it you want to see?"
The youth peered closely at Yousafer's wrist, then looked at Yuray. Understanding the request, Yuray pulled back his white robe as well.
Relief washed over the boy's face, and he bowed slightly in apology. "Forgive me for pointing my bow at you. I thought you were factory supervisors. Those scum come to hunt in our territory sometimes."
Though he didn't fully trust them yet, he eased up. A faint smile appeared on his face—a rare sight for someone who hadn't seen a traveler pass through this forest in years. It was like a ray of sun through the branches, carrying a hint of simple joy amidst a hidden sorrow.
"Where are you from, and where are you going?" he asked.
Yousafer gazed at the pale yellow leaves falling from the trees. "As you can see, we lost our way because of this tall grass. I think we strayed from the main road and were searching for it."
The boy pondered this and coughed lightly. "You're lucky you met me. Would you like to come with me to the village?"
Yousafer looked at Yuray, who nodded with a faint smile. "Fine. Lead the way."
The boy walked to the fat, dead rabbit, plucked the arrow from its neck, and slung the carcass over his shoulder. He then retrieved the arrow that had nearly struck Yuray from the tree. "Let's go."
Yousafer and Yuray followed the youth, who moved quickly, though they kept pace effortlessly. The sound of their footsteps harmonized with the crunch of twigs. The boy turned back: "My name is Helmo. What are yours?"
"I am Yousafer."
"And I am Yuray."
"By the way, those factories you mentioned... what's the story?" Yousafer asked.
As soon as he asked, sadness clouded Helmo's face. "I'll tell you when we reach the village."
***
Helmo led them through trees that were stripping bare in the season's cold. After thirty minutes, the village houses appeared—odd structures that looked like giant mushrooms, each a different color from the next. A stone path wound between them. Yousafer and Yuray noticed several demolished homes, but the most striking thing was the absence of people.
An eerie silence hung over the village; it was completely deserted. The air was heavy with the scent of old wood and the faint smell of smoke drifting from the chimneys.
"Where is everyone?" Yousafer asked curiously.
"That's why I said I'd tell you when we arrived," Helmo replied. "The village is empty because every resident works in those factories. The rest are out hunting in the forest."
"But sunset is near. When do they finish?"
Helmo replied sorrowfully, "They won't finish as long as the sun is up. Every day is the same; they start at sunrise and end at sunset. Not a single day of rest."
"And who is behind these factories?" Yuray asked.
The wind suddenly whistled between the houses as Helmo answered, despair in his eyes: "How should we know? Those bastards threaten us! You saw the destroyed homes... their owners died because they couldn't endure the tyranny, so their houses were razed. It terrified the rest of us. We waited for the army for so long, but they haven't appeared since it happened, even though they used to visit occasionally."
*You'll die waiting,* Yousafer thought mockingly. Aloud, he asked, "Was this village always like this?"
"No," Helmo said. "It was prosperous and bright, full of life. Merchants came three times a month to trade. But suddenly, they stopped coming. Month after month, the village decayed, though it remained lively. When the Village Chief saw that the merchants weren't returning, he sent someone to investigate—but they never came back. He sent another, and they vanished too. Our Chief sensed something was wrong and stopped sending people. We made do by hunting and fishing."
"But one night, a black carriage arrived with several men. We thought the merchants had returned and we rejoiced. We were so happy that day..." Helmo stopped, grief etched on his face.
"What happened then?" Yuray asked.
"The Chief invited them into his home and prepared a feast. But long after they entered, we heard the sound of crashing and shouting. The villagers rushed to see what was happening, only to find our Chief on the floor, covered in wounds, and his elderly wife unconscious. A sword was at the Chief's throat. They forced many things upon us to keep him alive: hunting in specific zones, and working in those factories without a word of complaint. Anyone who spoke up had their children taken to work as well. Those scum... children not even twelve years old are working for them! What kind of world is this?! Many children died from exhaustion and disease. When parents saw their children dying, they rose up against the supervisors, but they were met only with death and the destruction of their homes."
Helmo had forgotten he was talking to strangers; his heart was so full that he needed to pour it all out. Yousafer and Yuray listened to every word, glancing at each other as the boy spoke without pause.
Yuray sighed, interrupting with a question: "Why didn't you just leave this place?"
"We can't. We are surrounded here, and some of our people are held prisoner. They haven't given us a chance to escape. Those wretches... in their eyes, we are less than animals. we work only to eat; even their dogs are treated better than us! What kind of injustice is this? Don't we deserve to be free? To eat when we want? To work when we want? To sleep when we want?! We have been stripped of all our rights!"
Helmo spoke with such intensity that every word seemed to lift a heavy burden from his chest. He needed someone to listen, and these strangers provided a relief he hadn't felt in a long time.
Just as he finished, a voice boomed from the distance: "You've said quite a lot, you little wretch!"
Helmo's blood ran cold. He turned to see a man approaching with confident, arrogant strides and a look of pure disdain on his face.
**End of Chapter**