Seven months, buried somewhere near that inn?
How is that even possible? And even if I was unconscious since August 3rd, how the hell did I survive? Because there is no way a human can survive this long, buried under the snow.
A chill ran deeper than the cold wind outside. Something about all this didn't feel natural – not my survival, not the missing time, not even the changes in my body.
Maybe.
Maybe that lady was joking, but we didn't even know each other, so why would she joke with me?
AHHH, it's so frustrating.
"What the hell happened in the world while I was unconscious?"
I pressed my palms against my face, trying to make sense of the impossible.
Before I could drown in the thought, the tent flap opened again. A man in a white military uniform stepped in, tall, rigid, his face masked by the white slate mask, covering his whole face.
"Mister… The captain wants to see you." He said, his voice steady.
For a moment, I just stared at him, unsure if I could get any answers from this 'captain' and a little scared of this situation.
Still, I nodded faintly, pushing myself to my feet with what little strength I had left.
The soldier waited at the entrance, holding the flap aside as the cold wind seeped in.
I stepped out of the tent, the cold wind bit into my skin – sharp, almost cleansing. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the pale light of dawn.
All around me, the camp was alive with movement.
Soldiers trained in the open – some swinging swords in perfect rhythm, others drawing bows, one of them slamming a heavy hammer against wooden dummies.
Their grunts and the clash of the metal filled the air, echoing through the icy silence of the land around us.
For a brief moment, I just stood there, watching.
Then, as the soldier beside me started walking, the others began to notice. One by one, the sounds of training faded. People stopped mid-swing, eyes turning toward me.
From what I can see, there are around thirty people in this camp.
Without a word, the soldier led me across the camp, past rows of tents and weapon racks, until we stopped before the largest tent, its entrance marked with the symbol of a lion's face in fire.
"I have brought him, Captain," he said.
"Let him enter… alone." A deep voice, likely belonging to a middle-aged man, comes from inside the tent.
The soldier stepped aside, pulling the tent flap open for me.
I stepped inside. The tent looked like it belonged to military personnel, and from what I have seen so far, it definitely does. Maps were pinned to the walls, marked with red dots at various points.
On the ceiling, an orb hung, shining in white light, illuminating the surroundings and also producing heat.
A large wooden table stood at the centre.
Behind the table sat a man in a military officer uniform, and on his shoulders were attached three silver stars, a sign of his higher rank.
He looked like he was in his late thirties, his hair black with some grey mixed in, height around 185 cm tall, and a scar above his left eye.
Beside his chair rested a katana, not particularly a katana; it is a little short to be called a katana.
Why did he even use a katana in this age?
Wait, I remember this katana.
Ahh, yes, this is the same blade that killed that big wolf.
If this is the blade that killed it, then the one who was wielding the blade was this person.
"Sit." Captain's eyes met mine, his voice low but commanding.
I slowly nodded and took the seat across from him, the metal chair creaking beneath me.
For the first few seconds, he just observes me, trying to measure something that couldn't be seen on the surface.
This silence raises my nervousness to another level. I didn't even know for what reason I am being interrogated.
Then, the captain broke the silence.
"What's your name?"
"Hira… Hira Vedman."
Though I thought about lying to him, I don't know from where, but I had this feeling that if I wanted to keep my head on my neck, I shouldn't lie to this person sitting in front of me.
"So, Mr. Hira, if you like to keep your life to yourself, then answer the following question sincerely."
I slowly nodded.
He continued. "Where are you from?"
"Varanasi, U.P…"
"What are you doing here, in Uttarakhand, thousands of kilometres away from Varanasi?"
His voice contains a sceptical tone.
"I came to here to visit the Himalayan mountains with my brother," I replied, my voice low.
"So, you are telling me that, even after the H.A.F. (Hindvarthya Armed Forces) had declared this region prohibited, you and your brother had come here?"
"Since when?" His words shocked me. I didn't know anything about this.
"What, now don't tell me you didn't know about this?"
"Sir, I swear that we didn't know anything about this."
"There are literally hundreds of boards hung at every corner of this jungle, and you are telling me that you didn't know anything about this."
His raised voice tells me that he does not believe me.
"Sir, pls believe me. We didn't see any notice board on our way here."
I am trying to keep my voice calm, as the tension in the tent is rising. And it's not like I am lying to him. We really didn't see anything like that on our way.
"… Okay. Let's say what you are saying is true, then, where is this little brother of yours? Why is he not with you in the forest?"
Hearing this question, I don't know what should I tell him.
That my brother died in a landslide, or maybe he was saved by some unreal giant.
A.N.- PARIPRASNA means 'interrogation'.
sorry for being a little late, and happy Diwali, guys.