The Frayed Quill

The clouds appeared ghostly as they hung in the night sky. They were clearly retreating as the winds scattered them. The moon illuminated the clouds like a bright pearl lying inside an oyster. Satya would gaze at it; for minutes, for hours, until the moon would shy itself away from him and pull the clouds over like a coverlet.  “Satya?” Ishrat called out. He turned back and saw the latter approach him hurriedly.  “Does she carry anything?” He asked. “She gave Umbriel only one thing.” He said and opened his palm. It was a dart with a metal tip and red feathers, all caked with dried blood. Satya raised an eyebrow. “That's all we retrieved.”  Satya frowned and took the dart and looked at it from all sides.  “Firstly she hesitated to give it, but when she did, she requested to return it back to her. Surprisingly, she almost teared up while requesting.” He handed the dart back. “Wash it.” He removed a handkerchief and wiped his fingers.  “Does she belong to Tryambak'...

Through the dense, gloomy forest she walked, crushing the dried leaves and twigs under her shoes. The darkness pressed in close against her yet her steps were steady and her eyes looked ahead. There was only a bit of light visible at a distance. She struggled to look through the slit of cloth, which covered her whole head but the eyes. They kept widening as the light was too dim. Her pace was steady yet quick.  Beads of perspiration appeared on her neck, the cloth suffocated her; she wanted to get out of the forest as early as she could. She lowered the cloth a little, letting in a breath of fresh air. Then, she lightly touched her nose and cheek; a painful tingling ran all over her face.  The cut wouldn't be that deep, she thought. The blood will get smeared all over. She felt the blood on her fingers; its sight would fill her heart with fear but now she only found it tangible—warm, water-like. My blood, and her—no. Not hers. She shook her thoughts away and continued to walk....