Rough hands pin the girl down. Punji hisses from inside her sleeve.
Young Master Salman: You dare stick your filthy hands into my pockets. Who are you? Just another low-born arcanist rat from Mor Pankh. What made you think you could steal from me on my own land?
Young Master Salman: Huh?
Kanjira: Pah! Shameless bastard! You lot take way more from these aunties and uncles than I ever did!
Kanjira: You trick them, tell them their goods are worthless, and then resell them in other villages for a fortune!
Kanjira: Those things they make—they could buy their own houses with the money you make off them!
Kanjira: Open your eyes! Uncles, don't tell me you don't know this is happening?
She twists her head, trying to catch the eyes of the adults nearby.
But their faces remain blank, looking right through her. To them, she's just another outsider.
A justified punishment. A righteous lesson.
Young Master Salman: You little wretch. This is my family's legal business. Go cry to the police if you want. But first, you'll pay for your thievery.
Young Master Salman: Hold her hand down, Chamar!
Servant I: Yes, sir.
Kanjira's pinned flat against the ground like a crab on a cutting board.
Ding—A knife slams into the dirt beside her hand.
Young Master Salman: Shh, let's start with the pinky, shall we?
The blade lowers slowly, like a guillotine inching toward her finger.
*thud*
Young Master Salman: Ahhh—!
The knife flies from his hand as a deafening gunshot rings out, and blood pours from his palm.
Someone steps out from the bushes.
Janardhan: Tch ...
Janardhan: And here I thought we were the worst kind of scum, but looks like rats can wear crowns too.
The servants scatter like cockroaches.
Kanjira grabs the fallen knife, then struggles up to her feet.
Kanjira: Ha ... haha ... So you didn't run after all?
Janardhan: Hold the knife steady. Take the rest of his stuff, that necklace, you already have his bracelets, yeah? Hey, isn't that earring of his real flashy too?
Janardhan: Cut them all off.
The girl freezes.
Janardhan: You forget what he was about to do to you, kid?
Janardhan: Don't waste time! Or would you rather wait till he's a corpse?
Another bullet kicks up dust near her feet.
Kanjira: ...
Young Master Salman: Please, I'm begging you—take everything—whatever you want!
Before she can move, the man grovels and frantically strips off every valuable thing he's wearing, holding them out to her with both hands.
Young Master Salman: It's all yours! Take it!
Janardhan: What? Are you feeling guilty all of a sudden? You already robbed him once, what's the difference?
Janardhan: This filthy bastard was about to chop off your fingers—
Kanjira: Stop yelling at me! I know!
She turns her head away, fighting the disgust rising inside her, still refusing to take the groveling man's offerings.
Janardhan: You think you're doing something wrong? Kid, after all the hell you've been through on the streets, you should've buried that soft heart ages ago.
Janardhan: Theft, robbery, even murder—that's not just here. That's the whole damn world.
Janardhan: Every day, people get tossed from their homes, starve to death, die sick and forgotten in some filthy alley.
Janardhan: I could've put a bullet straight through his skull, but compared to the way people like him strip others of their dignity and leave them to starve and crawl to their deaths ... I'm practically a saint.
Heavy footsteps echo from the road ahead.
Servant I: They're over here!
Janardhan: Tsk.
He loses the last of his patience, turns, and disappears into the trees without another word.
Kanjira: Wait for me!
Pushing their way through the dense forest, they reach a quiet spot.
Kanjira: My caravan! You parked it this close?
The caravan sits by the lake, a few birds resting peacefully on the roof.
Janardhan: If I'd slowed down to wait for you, we'd both be dead by now.
He checks on his gun; it had shifted in his pocket.
Janardhan: With this thing, I can make them behave. But now I'm thinking I might as well leave you behind as bait.
Janardhan: Most important thing is, we still need to get this piece of junk out of here.
Kanjira: But, why did you come back for me? I mean, you could've just left.
Janardhan: I just didn't want them pinning a body on me. With the way things work around here, you can't trust them not to kill you and lay the blame on me.
Janardhan: Get in, kid.
Janardhan: We need to hit the highway before sunset.
Janardhan: Huff. I know a place where we can lay low for the night.
Janardhan: And here's some advice. Don't let that soft heart of yours get you killed.
Kanjira: ...
Janardhan: What's the matter? Get in, idiot.
She stands silent in the fading light.
After a moment, she lifts her head.
Kanjira: I know a lot of bad people. I'm one of those "bad kids" Ms. Sherjah always talks about.
Kanjira: I steal mangoes from Uncle Sinha's garden. I trick dumb tourists out of their money. I pick pockets and take money from those drunk uncles that don't know any better ... I've been caught, and I've been beaten. A lot.
Kanjira: Maybe you're right, but I ... I don't want to agree with you.
Kanjira: I think I'd rather be bad, but not that bad. That's enough for me.
Janardhan: Tch. Whatever kid, see ya!
He rolls the caravan onto the highway without a second glance.
This time, Kanjira reacts fast, chasing after it and leaping on without hesitation.
Kanjira: Ah! Next time, I'll make you run behind!
Officer: The mud's still soft. Those tire tracks are fresh. They're not far.
Officer II: Janardhan's always been careful. But now it seems like he's slipping. Doesn't add up. You sure this isn't just some lookalike?
Officer II: Maybe that dumb rich kid filed a false report just to cover his own losses.
Another officer speaks in a low, worried voice.
Officer II: Looks like a simple robbery. Nothing big. We can hand this off to the local precinct. No point wasting time.
Officer II: A murderer with a price on his head, and he risks everything over a few bills?
Officer II: How does that make sense? It wouldn't be worth it.
The lead officer straightens up, walks over, and claps him on the shoulder.
Officer: It's worth it.
Officer: Maybe the girl he took is worth even more ... some how?
Officer: We just haven't figured that part out yet.
He strokes his mustache, eyes glinting like he's spotted a fish nearing the hook.
Officer: Won't be long now, boy.
Officer: We wait until the rat runs out of holes.
