He kept his head low, spoon dipping into the steaming bowl of lentils. He angled his body so the shadows from the corner table would hide his face from the hunter who had just entered.
Night had thickened outside, and the dim, flickering oil lamps in the inn left most patrons in half-darkness. The hunter's eyes, hard and cold, swept the room but slid over him without a flicker of recognition.
At his table, Red, Yellow, and Blue sat in their small forms—unseen by anyone else. Red, ever the boldest, sniffed the food Gana had ordered for them, took a tentative bite, then recoiled with an expression of profound offense.
"Ugh! It tastes like boiled boot leather and despair!" Red spat, a tiny, invisible glob of disgust hitting the floor. "Where's the spice? Where's the fire? This is an insult to mouths everywhere."
Yellow delicately tasted his portion, paused thoughtfully, and set his spoon down. "The texture is coarse. The grain is poorly milled, and the broth lacks basic seasoning. It's sustenance, not food."
Blue just poked at his bowl, his watery form drooping. "It… it feels lonely," he whispered, loud enough only for them to hear.
He ignored their culinary critique. His focus was on the hunter, who now spoke in low tones with the innkeeper. After a few minutes, the man turned and left, melting back into the night without buying anything but leaving some copper coins.
When the door shut, he rose and crossed to the counter, affecting a casual posture. "That man seemed to be in a hurry. Causing trouble?"
The innkeeper, who was wiping down the counter, didn't look up. "Travelers are always trouble of one sort or another. Nothing for you to worry about."
He slid a silver coin across the wet wood. It spun and settled with a soft clink. "I like to know what kind of trouble is in town. It helps me sleep better."
The innkeeper's hand covered the coin and slid it from sight. His expression softened fractionally. "He and his friends are camped out in the woods. Just ordered a late supper, is all. A big order."
"In the woods? At this hour?" he pressed gently. "That's a lot to carry into the dark. Are you delivering it?"
"My job ends at the kitchen door," the man said, his eyes becoming guarded again. "What they do after is their own business."
Another silver coin joined the first. "My business is staying alive. Knowing when twenty armed men are moving about helps with that."
The innkeeper sighed, the greed winning over his caution. He swept up the second coin. "They're sending a party to pick it up themselves," he muttered. "Said they'd be here around ten."
'A rich kid throwing money around,' the man thought. 'But who is he?'
"Thank you," Gana said, and stepped away from the counter. He felt the innkeeper's eyes on his back.
Outside, the cool night air carried the faint scent of horses and damp earth. His mind was already racing—if the hunters were moving in force, he needed transport ready. He returned to the counter
"Where can I get a horse?"
"Next street over," the manager replied, eager for him to be gone. "Small stable. Doesn't have much stock."
Minutes later, he found the place, selected a sturdy black stallion, and paid the seller generously. He left the animal in the man's care. "I'll come for him tonight," he said, adding extra coins for the man's silence and discretion.
By the time the moon was high, he was in position in the shadows of an alley across from the inn's back entrance. As predicted, four hunters on horseback arrived, collected the stacked crates of food, and rode out of town. He gave them a safe lead, then retrieved his own stallion and followed at a careful distance.
The road was empty, the night heavy and dark. Soon, the hunters turned off the path, entering the deep woods. Shadows thickened, the branches of ancient trees clawing at the sky. He pressed forward, keeping the sound of their horses ahead of him… until it vanished. He'd lost them.
A rustle in the darkness ahead froze him in place. Figures emerged from the gloom—the Lali. Their leader, the great white horse with the golden mane, stepped forward, his presence immense and silent.
The great horse fixed him with an intelligent gaze. It lowered its massive head slightly, then nudged the air in his direction—a clear, deliberate gesture. Gana understood. He remembered the palace lore: while only bonded Lalis could speak freely with their human, the powerful Vyahlalis could communicate through touch.
He dismounted and obeyed. The instant their skin met, a powerful voice echoed not in his ears, but directly in his head.
"I am Vajradatta," the horse's mind-voice said, deep and resonant. "And you are the one who bled for my son's kin."
"I am Gana."
Vajradatta's eyes, like pools of liquid moonlight, glimmered. "The scent of human violence follows you. What trouble do you bring to my domain tonight?"
"The same trouble as before," Gana focused. "Hunters are back, or maybe they never left. I followed them from the town. I killed their leader, but others remain. I don't like people who hurt animals. They are worse than beasts."
Vajradatta lowered his head in acknowledgment. "Their foulness taints these woods. Show me the direction they fled."
He pointed, and in a heartbeat Vajradatta swept him onto his back. Without any command, the herd thundered forward through the night.
But before long, Blue's voice cut in, frantic. "Gana! Red's gone! I can't feel him anymore!"
He requested them to stop. He looked around and saw a faint red glow on the forest floor some distance behind them. It was Red, shrunk into a small, warm firestone.
Blue explained, his voice trembling. "He left your aura field. Without you, he reverts to his dormant state."
He retrieved the stone. The moment his fingers closed around it, it flashed and the fiery form of Red reappeared in his hand, sputtering furiously.
"Of all the disrespectful, cavalier, idiotic—! Do I look like a rock to you? You could warn me before grabbing me like that!"
Gana thought for a second, a glint in his eye, and tossed him out again.
"HEY—!"
When he landed, Red burst into a plume of startled flame, the sudden fire making several nearby Lali shy away. He realized with a jolt that he could create fire at will this way. Red, now turned into a firestone again, was not amused.
He grinned—a true, mischievous grin—and picked Red up again. "Let's go."
They pushed on. By the time they reached the hunters' camp, all was silent except for the soft snores of sleeping men.
The Lali moved in without a sound. What followed was not a battle, but a slaughter. It was swift and bloody.
In the wreckage, he froze—a familiar face among the carnage. One of his old playmates from the palace—one of the few who had always treated him with kindness—was tied to a post, battered but still alive. He rushed forward and cut him free, dragging him clear of the chaos.
Vajradatta approached, the blood of hunters flecked on his golden mane. "You have fought for the innocent and did not abandon your own. This is the mark of a commander."
"He needs care," Gana said, propping his unconscious friend against a tree. "And these woods are not safe. The men you killed were hired by someone powerful."
"We are aware of that," Vajradatta replied. "For what you have done, I offer to form an alliance through an Ātmabandha with my eldest son. I find it that you have none yet...
...A true bond must be forged in a sacred place, like the temples in your capital. But the journey itself is part of the ritual. It is fitting you travel together."
The young stallion—tall, white, his mane as bright as the dawn with golden patches —stepped forward and bowed his head in a silent pledge.
When the herd dispersed, Gana returned to the town before dawn. He found the stable owner and left him with a heavy purse of gold.
"Take care of my friend until he wakes up. When he wakes up tell him to go to capital. This stallion ..." he said, indicating the black horse he had purchased, "...is for his journey back to the capital when he is well."
Stable owner was happy to get rich. But he was not greedy.
The next morning, he left the town with his new friend the magnificent white Lali. The ride was unlike anything he'd ever experienced—a smooth, powerful glide across the land.
Lalis are faster than normal animals as they have mana.
After a few hours of silent travel, a voice, clearer and sharper than Vajradatta's, entered his mind. "You are different from the other humans I have seen."
"How so?" Gana asked.
"They fear us. Or they try to command us. You do neither."
"You are not beasts to be commanded," Gana replied. "My own kind could learn from you."
He paused, then added, "What is your name?"
"I don't have one yet"
"Your father is like the unyielding thunderbolt, Vajra. You are like the dawn that follows the storm."
He felt a sense of pride from the young Lali.
"I will call you Suryavrata—he who is devoted to the sun," Gana declared.
"Suryavrata," the Lali repeated in his mind. "Ithas strength. I will bear it with honor."
They rode on, their conversation weaving between the ways of Lali and the ways of men. As midday passed, a new sight broke the horizon — a series of massive, carved pillars, gleaming in the sun. Each pillar has one Lali sculpture at top. They marked the edge of the capital's domain, the first sign of home.