Land of Heathens

Chapter 6 - Asking Questions

Navir’s boots kicked up small clouds of dust as he led Nimi and Mehrak down the quiet street. His dark red eyes scanned every window, every shifting shadow, muscles tensing with unease. Nimi tugged at her scarf. “Could he have left without telling anyone?” Her voice trembled, caught between fear and hope.

Mehrak flexed his fingers nervously. “I doubt it,” he said, trying to sound confident, though a wobble betrayed him. “Baasit’s careful… not reckless.”

They stopped at the first house. Navir knocked firmly. An old woman answered, gripping a worn walking stick. When asked about Baasit’s family next door, she glanced past them, calm and measured. “I think they might have left in a hurry. Strange things have been happening lately.”

Mehrak’s eyebrow arched. “Strange… how exactly?”

She shook her head, voice small. “It’s hard to say. I only noticed the lights gone. I didn’t want to peek.”

Navir’s gaze sharpened. “Any neighbors in particular close to them?”

The woman paused, then said evenly, “A few, perhaps. But most keep to themselves these days. Better that way.”

The second house offered nothing. A man rubbed the back of his neck. “Could’ve been a late-night move. I heard something… but didn’t check,” he muttered.

The last door pressed heavier. An old man clung to the frame, eyes dim and wary. “Baasit… he was a good boy,” he murmured. “Sometimes good things draw the wrong kind of attention.”

Navir blinked, words caught somewhere between thought and speech. “Sir… I don’t understand,” he said softly, his voice almost distant, as if the words were floating free from him. Before he could return his gaze, the man slipped back inside, closing the door softly, yet the quiet thud held a finality that pressed on them like a weight. Only the faint click of the lock echoed afterward, leaving the street eerily still.

Navir lingered, trying to shake the uneasy feeling gnawing at him.

The trio continued down the dusty street. Few figures stirred in the distance—a man at a corner, another peering briefly from a window before vanishing. Each glance was wary, careful.

Nimi twisted her scarf tighter, her gaze drifting to the distant figures. Something in the way they watched—and quickly looked away—sent a quiet warning through her, the kind that hinted at danger without needing to be spoken.

Mehrak and Navir’s gaze swept the quiet houses, curiosity flickering behind caution. The weight of unspoken warnings pressed on them .

A faint muttering from the gutter caught his attention. He slowed. A girl crouched beside a cracked drainage line, long, thick black-silver hair tangled around her face. Dirt clung to it, like she hadn’t combed it in decades. Her red eyes didn’t meet them; they fixed on something unseen, distant.

Her fingers traced invisible shapes on the ground, tapping a precise rhythm. “He’s such a smart boy… no one saw it coming…” she whispered, smiling faintly at some private calculation.

Mehrak instinctively steadied his stride but stopped when the girl’s head lifted abruptly with eerie precision. Nimi went still beside him. Her gaze locked onto Navir, unblinking, calculating, lingering as if she recognized him from somewhere deeper than memory.

Without warning, she giggled and bolted down the alley. A scrap of cloth drifted several paces before settling on the dusty street. On it was a symbol, a bold, simple yet ostentatious eye, its lines unmistakable against the fabric.