Ajar: Everyone, push hard! Boss has to get out before sunrise! If Ms. Sherjah or anyone else sees us, it's all over!
Kanjira: Yeah, there's only one way out of the village. I need to leave before Uncle Chopra comes to set up his fish stall.
Kanjira: You all know anything that man sees will reach Granny Sutaliya's ears before noon! We've gotta stay hidden.
She climbs into the seat and grips the handles tight.
Kanjira: Let's go.
At her command, the kids push against the back of the caravan together.
The wheels creak, struggling over the grass.
One turn, two turns ... Speed picks up as the wheels find the slope, and they finally let go, watching as the caravan rolls toward the road out of the village.
The Kids: ...!
Ajar: Let's follow her!
The sky is still dark, and the market is empty.
Kanjira: Mor Pankh ...
The caravan rolls past rows and rows of familiar paths, the alleys they used to run through, the streets Ms. Sherjah would chase them down.
Clothes hanging out to dry pass over her, fish stalls that reek with the lingering scent of yesterday's catch ... Everything so familiar, yet suddenly strange.
The kids chase after the caravan like yipping puppies, barking out with excitement.
Until the caravan crosses the village gates, that invisible line separating their whole little world—
And the kids come to a halt.
Ajar: G-Goodbye ... Boss ...
Their small shadows close together, becoming a neat and solid row as they watch.
...
Child I: Hey ... Did the caravan feel heavier than before?
Ajar: Nah, you're just hungry and overthinking things again.
Five hours later
*knock*
???: cough
Kanjira: Huh? What's that noise?
Kanjira: Oh no, don't tell me Uncle Sinha's dog climbed in there again! I better check.
Kanjira: ?!
A black gun barrel stretches out from the door.
And a battered figure crawls out behind it.
Janardhan: cough Thanks for the lift, kid.
He staggers, leaning against the caravan, but keeps the gun trained on Kanjira.
Janardhan: Ahh, damn it, ankle's still messed up. Should've grabbed more loot before I left that village.
Janardhan: Get lost before I change my mind. Go home to your mom.
Kanjira: You're that fugitive. Janardhan.
He backs toward the driver's seat.
But the girl holds her ground.
Janardhan: Do you want to stop looking at me like that, or should I put a hole through your forehead?
*thud*
Dust kicks up from the ground, but she doesn't flinch.
Kanjira: You're in MY caravan.
Janardhan: That so ...
He tucks the gun away, pulls out a knife from his pocket, and limps toward her.
Kanjira: ...!
???: Hey! What's going on? Your car break down?
Janardhan: ...
He sidesteps closer to Kanjira, pressing the knife against her back from an angle no one can see.
Janardhan: Oh, no worries, my friend. Just out here on a little trip with my daughter. She got excited and insisted on stepping out for a bit.
The sharp edge pokes into her back, a silent threat.
Kanjira: Yep, that's right, Papa.
He nods toward his injured leg.
Janardhan: My legs aren't doing too well. Can't exactly go chasing after her. So we had a little argument.
Janardhan: Kids these days ... So hard to keep them in line.
???: Hahaha, I get it. I've got one about her age—worse than she is, I tell ya!
Rahul: Name's Rahul. I live just nearby. Work for Mr. Salman at his plantation, and my wife helps out at the pottery workshop.
Rahul: Police station's not far. If you need help, I mean, I'd be happy to fetch them for you.
Janardhan: Thanks for the offer, Rahul. But we're just leaving. Won't take up much of your time.
Kanjira grabs his sleeve, her eyes brimming with tears, playing the part perfectly.
Kanjira: But Papa, can't we stay just a little while? Please? I want to see Uncle Rahul's farm. I've been stuck inside all day—I'm going stir-crazy!
Janardhan: No, you're not—
Rahul: Hahaha, I'd be grateful for the help, sir. My wife is pregnant and stuck at home. If your daughter's willing, I'd be happy to offer you both lunch.
Janardhan: ...
That's music to their empty stomachs.
Janardhan: Hmm, can't say no to that.
He lets the girl go.
Janardhan: Listen up, kid. You stay where I can see you, understand? One wrong move, and you know what happens.
His eyes narrow as he attempts a gentle, fatherly smile, so kind it hides the threat—so kind it's terrifying.
Kanjira: Uh-huh ...
Tara: Oh yes, just like that, girl. You've got a real talent.
Tara: Press your hands evenly, feel the clay moving between your fingers—
Kanjira: Ah—!
Her hands slip for just a second, and the clay collapses. All her work, gone.
Tara: Haha, you've got the hang of it already, just a bit too eager.
In the shade against the wall, rows of finished blue pottery line up neatly.
Tara: But I'm still far from the number Mr. Salman ordered. I'll have to keep working through the night. You go rest.
Kanjira: W-Why? Auntie Tara, you're so good at this! If you took these to a big market, you could sell them for lots of money!
Tara: The market? No, I don't think anyone there would be buy these. And I've never been able to try selling them any further than that. I wouldn't know how. It's always been Mr. Salman who looks after that.
Kanjira: Sounds like he's your parent or something.
She glances around, confused by how run-down the place is. It's nothing like she imagined.
Kanjira: And these things ... I've seen outsiders buying them with little cars. They paid loads of rupees!
Tara: Please, girl. Don't say things like that. I don't want to be some fancy artist. I just want to do my work quietly and be happy with what I have. You have your arcane skills; I know you will succeed with whatever you put your mind to.
Tara: As long as we meet the quota, we'll have enough to eat ... cough
*knock*
It comes across more like a battering ram than a polite knock.
Before Tara can stand up, the visitor throws the door open, marching in with open disrespect.
Young Master Salman: Has Rahul's family delivered their share yet?
A few burly hired men stand behind him, blocking the door behind him.
Tara: S-Sorry, so sorry ...
Young Master Salman: Hurry it up! You've already delayed our delivery for many days! Once again you spit on my father's generosity with excuse after excuse.
Young Master Salman: If you fail to meet your quota today, you and your husband will need to find somewhere else to live! You won't be abusing his kindness any longer!
Tara's hands clench tightly as she nods, growing smaller and smaller with each bob of her head.
Young Master Salman: Wait a second. Who's this girl? And that filthy man?
Tara: Uh, don't worry, Young Master. They are just some lost travelers that stopped by to ask for directions!
Janardhan: ...
Young Master Salman goes pale immediately.
Young Master Salman: Workers aren't allowed to take strangers home! Especially not these two ... filthy arcanists.
Kanjira: ...
She bites her tongue, sensing the fear of Auntie Tara.
The man approaches, sizing her up.
Young Master Salman: I'll be back later for the rest. You know what happens if you're still short.
Thud!
The young man and his thugs turn away, and the girls' pounding heart finally settles.
Tara: You must leave, quick! If Young Master Salman reports this ...
She hurriedly wraps up some flatbread and stuffs it into Kanjira's pocket.
But Kanjira grabs Tara's hand and slips a number of bills into her palm.
Tara: What are you doing, child?
Kanjira: Hehe. Maybe this will help you, Auntie. I want to be your first customer!
Kanjira: Let's go, Papa.
Janardhan: Mhm.
Young Master Salman: That's the last one. Father could've just sent a servant to do this. Why make me run around?
Young Master Salman: Hey, you two! I'm thirsty over here.
Servant I: Yes, master. What do you need?
The young man reaches into his pocket to pull out some cash.
Young Master Salman: ...?
Young Master Salman: Where's my money?!
He frantically pats himself as if searching for a bullet wound.
Servant I: Your jewelry's gone too, master!
Servant II: That girl from Tara's house! When she brushed past you ...
Servant I: I saw their caravan parked not far from here!
Kanjira: Hehehe.
She admires the stolen wallet and jewelry, grinning with pride.
Janardhan: You realize if you're caught, this'll drag a whole lot more people down with you. This is serious.
Janardhan: Kid, you've really stirred up a mess.
His pace quickens, desperate to put as much distance behind them as possible.
Kanjira: What trouble? Punji's in and out like a ghost! By the time they check their empty pockets, we'll be long gone!
Janardhan: I don't want to bet on it. If this hunk of junk would've started up any faster, I'd have left you behind already.
Janardhan: Get out and push.
He waves her off dismissively before he climbs into the driver's seat and once again attempts to fire up the engine.
Kanjira: You're not seriously gonna drive off, are you? 'Cause if you are, I'm not pushing!
Janardhan: Shut your mouth. Either trust me, or sit here and wait to die.
Kanjira: Fine, fine! Hmph, jerk.
She presses her shoulder against the back of the caravan and starts pushing with all her might.
Servant I: They're right there!
Shouts echo from the distance.
Kanjira: It's fine! We made it!
Kanjira: We're already—
Kanjira: What?
The caravan rolls forward, faster and faster, with no sign of stopping.
Kanjira: Wait ... wait!
She runs, gasping for breath, trying to catch up.
But the caravan dives down over the nearby rise, disappearing from her sight.
Suddenly, rough hands grab her shoulders and slam her to the ground.
Young Master Salman: Hold her down! Break her fingers one by one!
