"What are the things you have in mind, Bot?"        They had been walking for over some minutes. She couldn't figure out what minutes though, but she did know that it had been quite the minutes. She felt how they were trying to exclude her from all the things. Like the discussions and all. Of course she was not pleased and the last thing she would do was force herself on them. That would be belittling. That would mean that she had no standard for herself. She wouldn't suffer such stance. She wouldn't kowtow. Her eyes were widening. Like they were going to pop out. She was still struggling to snap outta the odds of the pain. The pain the struggle had lent her. The pain the duel had damp her pedigree with. She wasn't sure what that was or would be. She was just walking with them. She wasn't sure how long she'll keep walking with them. She wasn't sure how long she would keep keeping up with the odds and their

       "Most times, life is simply unfair. We've just got to suck from it whatever it serves us. We most times don't have the choice to make. Choices have already been made. We're simply just to act the scenes which had been written out. Written out by some fingers or claws which had been trained by time."        He advanced. He had been sitting. He obviously was tied. She was tired also and would seize that medium. She could make use of it also and stretch her limbs. But if she truly wanted to be true to herself, then she did know that the rest was not supposed to be a choice. She was liberated. He returned to where he stood from. She didn't know what to think of him. Quite the numbers of thoughts were rippling in her subconsciousness. She wouldn't seem so vulnerable. She wasn't sure if she had been. She had been walking and walking until she had accosted him. She could discern from distance that he was

"Where do you think she had gone to? She obviously does not have ideas of how many spots are here. Only if she did want to feign it. I'm not sure she knew what she had in mind before running away. I tell you, I'm not sure. " Botha could see the worries etched in his father's face. He knew when he wanted a break and when he did have the strength to do the undo. He was heaving salient sighs at intervals and was giving his best. He had been worried all the time and was yet worried. He had been given to the throbbing thoughts as a loan that probably he had no idea what fate would wring off his mercy. He was finding it quite difficultly to regulate his breath. He obviously was waning by time and sooner or later, he would be tossed to the rage of death where obviously he would be squashed by the trained grasped of death. He hadn't said anything before then. They had been walking. They hadn't been resting quite the numbers of times before then and were taking a turn of rest. That was not

     "Unbelievable!""        He spoke as though he was trying to convince himself. He pushed out the words and watched the effect it possibly would have on his instinct. He was trying to severe his options. He was putting into consideration what the contention was. He didn't want to take it that he was the one who was guilty or who had done what was wrong. No one did accuse him of anything. He had no idea why he was that jumpy. He wanted to forget that everything did happen. He wanted to forget that he was made a pawn. He was trying to be what a father would be. But he was getting it wrongly. After the return from the city of the elevated ones, he hadn't been his real self. He had been tossed side by side by odds of time. He did try to find his bearing for naught. He couldn't arrive at a sane conclusion. He had been trying to be who he used to be but it had been much different. That did put him on a spot and h

     " Machli, Machli, Machli..."        That was the trail of words he heard. He heard only the words but not the owner. He wanted the owner to see but was left hanging in curiosity. He was pining for what was not far away from him. He was longing for what was at his disposal. All he needed was just to be patient enough but he was defected. He wouldn't. He couldn't wait for it. His heart had tiptoed and he was giving it all he could, he guessed. Who was the person who had called him? Who knew him? Who was acquainted with his name? He couldn't be really sure. He couldn't arrive at a sane conclusion. But of course he needed to be sure. He needed to arrive at a sane conclusion. He needed to put his heart up. He needed a mark to make. He needed to put quite the numbers of things straightly. He was counting his options. He couldn't be sure whether or not he was save. He couldn't be sure whether or not he knew wher