They had to be there by dusk. Otherwise, the whole trip would be a waste.

The sun was already setting. The boy stumbled as he ran, grabbing his servant's arm to steady himself. Both had been running to reach their destination before the sun disappeared behind the hills.  

The servant was breathless, but the boy was used to running. He ran everywhere. In fact, he enjoyed this chance to run to the forest.

The boy's mother banned him, as a rule, from playing near the forest. But today was different. Today, his mother sent him and the servant into the forest. 

The boy thought about how worried his mother was about the rash on his leg. For fifteen days, it had resisted her herbal ointments.

She had spoken to all of their neighbors. “Hindu, Muslim, Christian . . . I have exhausted all medical advice,” she said.

The “foreign” hospital, which offered Western medicine, was several miles from their village. And it cost too much money. 

Then, the milk vendor lady suggested that the boy’s rash might need divine help. “For a rash like your boy’s, you should make offerings to the forest goddess, Maramma. Just last month, the officer lady in town made an offering. Her son had a rash bigger than the one on your boy’s leg. It vanished overnight. Do it today,” the woman urged. 

The boy's mother asked for details about the offering. 

“Two beetle leaves, three beetle nuts, an unbroken coconut, and a five-paise coin. Your son must travel to the crossroads at the edge of the forest. He must place them there just as the sun sets behind the hills. Then, he must return home. He can never look back.” 

His mother took the milk lady’s advice. She sent her eight-year-old son, with the servant as his guide, to place the offerings at the crossroads. 

The boy and his servant reached the forest just as the sun started to slip behind the rocky hills. They stopped to catch their breaths.

The servant held out the bag. The boy removed each sacred item and placed them in the middle of the crossroads. 

When he finished, they began walking away. The sun was a flaming sliver on top of the hills. Suddenly, they heard a yell from the trees. In their hurry to complete their task, they had failed to notice the straw huts at the edge of the forest. An old woman emerged from a hut, screaming loudly. 

“Hey! Hey, you sahibs! What are you doing? Take these away! You will bring us bad luck from the goddess.” She pointed at the offerings on the ground. Clearly upset, she came close to the boy and servant, blocking their exit path. 

“These offerings . . . take them away. You put them too close to our homes. We do not want the goddess Maramma to visit us.” 

The boy felt afraid. He looked at the servant, who also seemed scared of the tribal woman's outburst.

Being a mile away from their own village, neither knew how to handle the situation. They did not know who else lived in the huts and feared what might happen if things turned violent.