Rustling in the Bushes

A typical, light evening breeze blew colored and withered leaves off a distinct roof. This particular roof, Azam's usual spot for choosing victims, barely served its original purpose of sheltering humans. The abandoned building stood in a composed way; almost as if it chose solitude over inhabitants.

Azam blinked, standing in position; straight, like a pillar, unshakeable. The guru was probably the only breathing being, besides the rats and spiders, who even made use of the place. The hiding student sighed; he had a hunch this night would turn into another tiring chase.

His teacher hadn’t noticed him yet. Sooner or later, he undoubtedly would. However, for the time being, the student was in the clear. Usually, the inexperienced youngster exposed himself during the of the chase. He would miss an exit, or his foot would slip, or he would get lost in thoughts and breathe too loudly.

It was safe to say he still had a lot to learn.

The student flinched upon noticing movement from Azam. The guru scoffed as he lowered his lean body, bent his knees, and shifted his weight onto the heels of his feet. His dilated pupils followed one isolated slave who lazily searched for a hiding spot in a corner of an alley. For a split second, the student pitied the slave for having been spotted on Azam's radar. The latter might have survived the night if he didn’t have the audacity to slack off from his work and end up right under their noses.

The said slave picked his nose, staring at his finger as he eyed the green prize that stuck to it before his finger disappeared between his plump lips.

The student suppressed a snort as he watched Azam narrow his eyes in disgust. This small action of the slave had robbed him of any hope of mercy. The guru truly despised such ill-mannered humans, having once cut off a hand from someone who hadn’t cleaned himself properly after relieving himself of bodily waste.

The student slowly breathed out in victory as he successfully suppressed his amusement from making a noise. It never failed to crack him up when he saw his teacher in this state. He fixed his focus back on the slave. The slave had now tucked his hands under his armpits, as if trying to use his arms as a blanket. His eyes were closed and his mouth hung wide open. The student wondered how long it would take before a spider or fly would find the moist open space and crawl onto the slave’s tongue.

Much like Azam, the student despised the humans in this area. They were like empty vessels, focused on trivial matters.

In all these years on earth, the student hadn’t come across a human from this district whom he could call an intellectual being. All they seemed to do was work, eat, and sleep. He had spied on them for several years; eyeing their movements, listening to their conversations, measuring their physical strengths. What that resulted in wasn’t much… These humans only seemed to care about which woman they would steal, which food they would consume, and how many hours they would sleep.

Taking after Azam, the student had grown hostile towards these useless maggots. And thus, he had taken it upon himself to follow his mentor’s mission.

He would destroy them all.

The night would soon be upon them, and the masters would hide in their pathetic excuses for houses. The slaves, on the other hand, were not as fortunate. Day or night; it didn’t matter. They were obligated to fulfill their errands. For the hunters, it was the perfect opportunity to torture the mentally weak, to show them who possessed the true power and make them understand how insignificant they were.

As expected, not long after the sun left the town, taking along the feeling of safety, it was now their time to shine. Azam stood up and jumped from one roof to the other. He didn’t shed a single bead of sweat as his light body effortlessly moved in the dark, navigating with his strong sense of smell. The student, on the other hand, struggled yet was close behind him.

Finally, both of them spotted the earlier-chosen victim. The tall, well-built slave carried a total of three pots—one on his head and the two others on each shoulder. The student figured the pots were filled with water. He eyed the chosen one as the latter muttered to himself and struggled to keep his balance.

Something suddenly shifted in the air, and Azam stopped jumping. He looked behind him and showed his student a determined smirk. The latter sighed and dropped his face as he came to a halt next to the teacher, firmly taking his place on the rooftop while making sure not to stand too close to the other jinn.

This time, Azam had discovered him before the action had even taken place.

“Do you smell his fear?”

The younger jinn flexed his arms and cracked his neck. He took a closer look at the slave and noticed the slight shivering of the human body. He grimaced upon smelling the fear.

“Honestly, it smells horrible.”

“It’s an acquired taste... similar to eating bheeves.”

The student pulled a face. Bheeves—the horribly bitter fruit his mother made him eat when he was younger.

“Well, let’s start then.”

The student flinched as Azam disappeared suddenly. He swiftly jumped off the roof. Just like that. The student couldn’t register a single sound when the latter’s feet landed on the soil beneath them. Azam made sure to remain unnoticed, moving with calculated steps. He trailed the slave until they both reached a darker part of the street—the exact border where the moon stopped extending its light.

The student remained in his place. It could happen at any moment, and from experience, he knew it would become ugly. I don’t want to wash my clothes tonight, he thought to himself, as he took a handful of his salvar in his hands, as if to confirm it was still nice, dry, and clean.

In the meantime, the human slave had become suspicious. He could tell something had changed in the air as well. He trembled as he looked in every direction, hastily searching for anything out of place. The hunter smirked, his eyes taking in his surroundings. The doors and windows of the houses on the street were tightly closed. There were no lights burning in the small homes.

A visible shiver ran up the slave’