Water dripped from a cracked bucket in a narrow passage near the palace well, each drop plinking against the stone floor as late afternoon shadows stretched long and thin. The sun dipped low, its light slanting through a high slit in the wall, glinting off slick moss that clung to the rough stones. The air hung cool and damp, tinged with the faint smell of wet earth and rust, and the well's wooden frame creaked faintly as a rope swayed, taut under new weight. The passage twisted tight, barely wide enough for two to pass, its walls pressing in, their echoes sharp with every sound.
Bhima stood by the well, his broad arms flexing as he hauled the bucket up, water sloshing over the rim and splashing his boots. His vest hung loose, patched and worn, flapping against his chest as he pulled, his dark curls damp with sweat. He grinned, a wide, easy flash of teeth, and hummed a rough tune, his deep voice rumbling low as the rope scraped against the wood. His sandals scuffed the stone, leaving wet streaks, and he shifted his weight, his broad frame filling the passage's mouth.
Duhshasana crept from the shadows further down, his fair hair wild and tangled, catching the faint light as he clutched a coil of rope. His small tunic flapped as he darted forward, his boots silent on the moss, and he swung the rope low, aiming for Bhima's legs. His voice burst out, high and shrill, as he lunged, his small frame buzzing with reckless glee. "Trip, you ox! Fall down now!" He yanked the rope, his fair hands trembling, and his grin flashed, sharp and wild.
Bhima's hum stopped, his voice roaring, bold and loud as he sidestepped, his broad feet quick despite his size. "Fall? You first, rat! Come here!" He dropped the bucket, water spilling across the stone, and grabbed the rope mid-swing, his thick fingers closing tight. He yanked hard, pulling Duhshasana forward, and the smaller boy stumbled, his boots slipping as he flailed.
Duhshasana's voice rose, shrill and fierce as he hit the ground, his fair hair bouncing. "Let go! I'll get you, oaf! Watch me!" He scrambled up, his small fists swinging, and he lunged again, his tunic tearing at the seam as he aimed for Bhima's knees.
Bhima laughed, a big, rolling sound, and caught Duhshasana's arm, his voice gruff and cheerful as he twisted him around. "Watch? I'm watching you flop!" He shoved him back, his broad hand flat against Duhshasana's chest, and slammed him into the wall with a thud, the moss smearing under his back. Bhima raised a fist, his dark curls bouncing, and his grin widened, his strength surging as he loomed.
Shouts echoed from the passage's bend, shrill and sharp, as three Kaurava boys rushed in, their tunics flapping, their small frames weaving through the narrow space. One, with dark hair plastered to his brow, cried out, his voice high and desperate as he swung a stick. "Help! Hit him, quick!" He jabbed at Bhima's side, the stick glancing off his vest, and the others followed, their fists flying, their boots slipping on the wet stone.
Bhima's fist lowered, his voice loud and bold as he turned, his broad shoulders filling the passage. "Hit me? Try harder, pups!" He grabbed the stick with one hand, snapping it in two, and shoved the dark-haired boy back, his palm flat and firm. The boy stumbled, his cry cutting off, and Bhima swung his other arm, scattering the second boy into the third, their shouts tangling as they fell.
Duhshasana pushed off the wall, his voice shrill and wild as he lunged again, his fair hair in his eyes. "Pups? I'll bite, you big fool! Take this!" He swung a fist, his small hand grazing Bhima's ribs, and he ducked under an arm, his boots skidding as he tried to trip him again.
Bhima's laugh boomed, his voice gruff and fierce as he caught Duhshasana's wrist, his thick fingers tight. "Bite? You nibble, rat! Down you go!" He lifted him off the ground, his broad arm flexing, and pinned him against the wall again, his feet dangling. He held him there, his grin flashing, and his dark eyes glinted, his strength a wall they couldn't breach.
The dark-haired Kaurava scrambled up, his voice sharp and panicked as he grabbed the third boy's arm, his tunic torn. "He's too big! Run, get out!" He bolted back down the passage, his boots slipping, and the others followed, their shouts fading into yelps as shadows swallowed them.
Duhshasana kicked, his voice high and strained as he thrashed, his fair hair wild. "Let me down! I'll get you! All of you!" His small fists pounded Bhima's arm, his tunic ripping further, and his breath huffed out, his bravado cracking as his feet swung.
Bhima's voice rumbled, loud and bold as he dropped Duhshasana into the dirt, his broad hands dusting off. "Run, like them! Next time's worse, hear me?" He stepped back, his vest flapping, and picked up the bucket, water dripping as he loomed over the sprawled boy, his glare a warning, hard and bright.
Duhshasana rolled over, his voice shrill and weak as he crawled back, his fair hair streaked with mud. "Worse? You'll see worse! Wait for it!" He staggered up, his small frame trembling, and stumbled after the others, his boots scuffing, his shout trailing into the passage's dark.
Bhima laughed again, his voice gruff and cheerful as he hauled the bucket up, his broad arms steady. "Wait? I'm waiting! Run fast, little rats!" He swung the bucket, water sloshing, and set it on the well's edge, his dark curls bouncing as he wiped his brow, his grin unshaken.
The passage grew quiet, the echoes fading, and the moss glistened where Duhshasana had hit the wall, a dark smear marking the stone. Bhima's sandals squelched as he shifted, his voice loud and bold as he grabbed the rope again, his tune resuming. "Rats think they can trip me? Ha! Stronger than ever!" He pulled, the bucket rattling, and his laugh rolled out, deep and wild, his strength a gift from the nagas pulsing through him.
He paused, his voice fierce and low as he glanced down the passage, his broad frame casting a shadow. "Duryodhana's next. Little prince sent 'em, I bet. I'll show him." He cracked his knuckles, the sound sharp, and his dark eyes narrowed, his glee mixing with a flicker of fury as he turned back to the well.
The sun dipped lower, shadows pooling thicker, and the cracked bucket dripped on, its plinks a steady rhythm in the stillness. Bhima's hum rose again, rough and sure, and the passage stood empty, its walls a stark line in the widening divide, the Kauravas' retreat a whisper of fear growing louder.