The dense forest enveloped the bullock cart, where the rustling of leaves sang a symphony of both peace and dread. The wheels creaked rhythmically against the gravel path, sending dust spiraling into the air. Adishesh clutched the reins tightly, his knuckles white against the tug of urgency surging through him. He could feel the weight of his wife's anxious gaze, and beside them, the old man muttered incantations under his breath, a blessing for the journey ahead.

Ekantika leaned forward, her heart racing with the frantic beat of the cart. “Ham pohoch to jayenge na?” she asked, biting her lip as she peered into the thickening shadows of the trees that flanked them.