One summer day, when he is out foraging, he realizes somewhat belatedly that he has forgotten to take along any water. The sun beats down on his back like a thousand unrelenting arrows and his head spins until he can’t think. When he enters the shadow of a tree, he is instantly hit by a cold flash, his teeth chattering and arms shivering. He still can’t stop sweating, and the constant ache he feels is now throbbing and growing more intense. Bile rises up to his throat, and he can barely grab a tree trunk for support before everything goes black. He can open his eyes after a bit, but cannot get up. Somewhere in the background, a peacock crows. He wants to get up, but his arms go limp every time he tries to push himself off the ground. The next time he opens his eyes, a flash of blue and green goes past.
“BABA!! THERE’S A MAN HERE!” A high, warbling voice shouts.
“What?” A second voice— perhaps the aforementioned ‘baba’?
“What happened, Prince Satyajit, what are you- Oh.” a deep, calm— slightly older— voice says before stopping short.
He feels water on his face and blinks awake. A man helps him up. He is leaning against the tree branch when he realizes who exactly was the child that called out to his father.
“Maharaj Drupad,” he says as frostily as he can. “Thank you for giving me water when I was thirsty. I shall be on my way now,”
The man who helped him up is looking between them with a puzzled expression on his face.
The peacock crowed again.
“Come back to our camp, young man,” The king says, either oblivious to or ignoring his frostiness. “Senapati Mriganka, please make arrangements for him to be treated from whatever ails him,”
He swallows. He does not think he is young, nor that he is a man. He does not know what he is. He bears no name, no lineage, no connections or family. He shakes his head. Why should he go back to the camp of the one that spurned him? The General seems sensible enough though. Might be useful later, Panchal was an enemy of the kurus, was it not?
“No, no, there is no need, really,” He pushes back. “My house is nearby, I will be on my way,”
He scales the tree and lies on the cold, wooden floor of the treehouse. The idea of getting some weapons sounds tempting to him. He realizes cannot live on berries and leaves, he needs to hunt if he wants to keep up his strength. He didn’t know how to do that, but if he could teach himself to survive in the forest for months, he can definitely teach himself to hunt and all that comes with it. It is almost sunset when he realizes the king has followed him and has been watching him all this while.
He picks up a stray pebble and launches it at Drupad’s head.
“What was that for?” The king yelps, quickly nocking an arrow and pointing it at him.
“My son wouldn’t stop hounding me about ‘that strange man!’”
“Oh my god! You are impossible!” he sighs, and jumps down from the treehouse window, and realizes he has a problem. His stock of random pebbles was still up in the treehouse. His eyes wander around the forest floor, wildly searching for a stick or a stone. He reaches out to grab a stone, but his fingers fail him and land upon a peacock feather. Out of any other options, he begins tickling the king. The bow falls from Drupad’s grasp and Drupad just stands there, hands folded, looking at him with a deeply tired expression.
“At least tell me your name, so I can tell Satyajit you reached home safely,”
He looks at the peacock feather in his hands, the flashes of blue and green that had danced in front of his closed eyes that afternoon, and curtly says, “Shikhandi. Nice to meet you. Now get out of my house,”
“Your house?” Drupad says again, and Shikhandi thinks he sounds incredibly similar to some noblemen’s catty daughters he knew as a child. “You sleep on a TREE!”
“What am I supposed to tell my son?”
Shikhandi groans. “That’s what you’re worried about?”
“You will understand when you have children of your own,” Drupad says.
Shikhandi buries his face in his hands, and a plan begins forming in his mind. Of course, a hunting camp. He could go right now, grab some weapons and disappear in the dead of the night. Of course, he would have to find a new place to live. One thing at a time, though, he thinks, and says, “Fine, I’ll come with you,”
