Interrogation
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Seven months… buried near that inn?
The thought hit like a punch to the chest. No matter how I tried to place it, it made no sense. Even if I really had been unconscious since August 3rd, no human survives that long under snow. My skin prickled. Something about all of this felt wrong—my survival, the missing time, even the strange changes in my body.
Maybe the woman was joking. But why would she joke with a stranger who'd just woken up half-dead?
Frustration surged through me.
"What the hell happened in the world while I was unconscious?"
I pressed my palms against my face, trying to hold my thoughts still. They slipped through anyway.
Before the questions could swallow me whole, the tent flap opened. A man stepped in—white military uniform, tall, posture sharp enough to cut, his face hidden behind a white slate mask.
"Mister… the Captain wants to see you," he said.
I stared at him, unsure whether the 'Captain' held answers or more confusion. Fear pulled at my gut, but I forced myself upright. My legs trembled, but I stayed standing.
The soldier held the flap open. Cold wind struck my face the moment I stepped outside—brutal, but clear enough to steady my mind.
The camp stretched out before me, wide and disciplined. Soldiers trained across the open grounds—swords slashing in perfect rhythm, arrows thudding into targets, a hammer wielder smashing wooden dummies into splinters. Metal clanged, voices barked commands, and all of it echoed across the frozen wilderness.
I stood there for a moment, absorbing it.
Then the soldier walked ahead, and the others started noticing me. Movements slowed. People stopped mid-swing. Thirty pairs of eyes turned my way.
Without a word, the soldier guided me through rows of tents and weapon racks until we reached the largest tent—its entrance marked with a symbol of a lion's face engulfed in flames.
"I have brought him, Captain," he announced.
"Let him enter… alone." The voice from inside was deep, steady, and absolute.
The soldier stepped aside.
I walked in.
Inside, the tent looked like a war-room. Maps lined the walls, dotted with red markings. An orb hung from the ceiling, bathing everything in warm white light. At the center stood a wooden table, heavy with documents.
Behind it sat a man. Military uniform. Three silver stars at his shoulders. Late thirties, maybe early forties. Black hair streaked with grey. A scar above his left eye. He was taller than me, broader too.
Beside him rested a blade—not quite a katana, shorter than the traditional kind.
I knew that blade. It was the one that killed the wolf.
Which meant the man in front of me was the one who had knocked me out.
"Sit," he said.
His gaze locked on mine—calm, cold, measuring. I sat down slowly, the metal chair creaking under me.
He studied me for several long seconds. The silence was thick enough to press against my skin.
Then he spoke.
"What's your name?"
"Hira. Hira Vedman."
I'd thought about lying, but something in his presence told me that lying would end badly—very badly.
"So, Mr. Hira." His voice dropped a tone. "If you'd like to keep your life, answer my questions honestly."
I nodded.
"Where are you from?"
"Varanasi. Uttar Pradesh."
"What are you doing here in Uttarakhand—thousands of kilometers away from Varanasi?" His voice held suspicion.
"I came here to visit the Himalayan mountains with my brother."
His eyebrow twitched, almost amused.
"So you're telling me that even after the H.A.F.—the Hindvarthya Armed Forces—declared this entire region prohibited, you and your brother came here anyway?"
My heart lurched.
"Since when?" The words stumbled out of me.
His eyes narrowed. "Don't tell me you didn't know."
"Sir, I swear—we didn't know anything about this."
"There are hundreds of boards posted all over this forest," he snapped. "And you expect me to believe you didn't see a single one?"
His voice was rising. He didn't believe a word.
"Sir, please. We didn't see any notice boards on our way. I'm not lying."
Tension crept through the tent. My voice shook, but I held steady. Because it was the truth.
He exhaled slowly, then spoke again.
"Fine. Let's pretend you're telling the truth. Then answer this—where is your little brother? Why wasn't he with you when we found you?"
The question stabbed straight through me.
What was I supposed to say?
That my brother died in a landslide?
Or that a giant man saved him?
Or that I had no idea if Yash was alive or dead?
My throat tightened. The answer felt heavier than anything that wolf had thrown at me.
A.N.- PARIPRASNA means 'interrogation'.
sorry for being a little late, and happy Diwali, guys.