My mind rushed as I tried to process what to do. There was clearly a basement or storage area under the rug, and it had at least one person down there. They were startled or scared when I stepped on the entrance, so that probably meant they weren't here for trouble. Chances were they were the actual owners of the house, but it could also just be another scavenger. The fact that the rug was over the entrance might indicate someone else had hidden them, but it could also mean that there was another entrance somewhere else to where they were, perhaps outside.

I didn't know if they were armed. Even if they weren't part of whoever was responsible for all this death and destruction that didn't mean they wouldn't try to shoot an intruder on sight, especially if they felt threatened. Everything that I had seen so far today told me they had every reason to be terrified of a strange person showing up at their house. Did that mean I should just leave? If I didn't try to face them they might just let me go with no trouble. I definitely didn't want trouble.

However, I also was desperate for answers about what was going on, and eager to see another living face. The colt, being a baby, wasn't exactly forthcoming with information. I needed to try to convince them I wasn't a threat, and get them to talk to me.

I walked back to the colt's basket, and placed the doll inside. The colt ignored the doll, but babbled up at me as I carefully laid it next to him. "You sit put. I'll be right back."

I then pulled the rug back from where it was on the floor. There was a square wooden panel on the floor, on hinges to let it be pulled back. There was no sign of any sort of locking mechanism, and there was just enough space between the boards of the panel to let some light trickle down to whatever was below. I also heard some additional movement and gasps as the panel was revealed.

"Hello? Can you hear me? I'm just looking for food and news. I didn't think anyone was here. Can we talk?"

There was no answer, but I heard a tiny amount of movement still. If there was another entrance they didn't seem to be making for it. That all but confirmed this was the only entrance, and that someone outside had made an effort to hide them. I wondered how long they had been down there, and how they were getting air if the entrance had been covered. Perhaps air was still seeping through under the rug, or maybe there was an air vent or something.

It might be foolish, but I was going to try to talk to whoever was down there.

I reached down to the edge of the panel, and carefully lifted it up. There was a short wooden ladder that allowed passage in and out of the area. The light down below was dim, perhaps candlelight, but it was enough for me to make out the great big knife that was pointed straight at me. On the other end of that knife was a human woman. She was wrapped in a pink and tan garment that covered her head to toe, with only her face and hands exposed. She had slightly tanned skin, and dark eyes. Her hair was completely covered by her garment, but I imagined it was dark as well. Beside her a young girl, similar in appearance and dress, huddled close to the woman, and stared up at me fearfully. The knife looked like something used for butchering animals, and the woman held it with both hands, shakingly.

I pushed the panel away, so the entrance was fully open, and held up both hands to show I was unarmed. "Hello? I'm not here to hurt you. We were just looking for food."

The woman said something in a quivering voice, but the language was completely foreign to me. I decided to switch up, and speak to her in English instead of Marathi. "Can you understand me? I'm just looking for food."

She stopped shaking as much, and gave me a puzzled expression, but didn't lower the knife. She then said something else, and although I could tell it was another language than the one she used before (perhaps Russian) I couldn't tell what she was saying either. I tried one more time, this time in Hindi. "Food?"

There was no sign of recognition. It was clear she didn't didn't understand the word. We were both fluent in more than one language, but we didn't know any of the languages the other knew.

It was time to try another approach. I opened my mouth and made a gesture like putting something in it. "Food. Do you understand?" The woman didn't reply, she just kept standing there holding her weapon in my direction. Okay, I wasn't giving up quite yet.

I backed away from the door, and went over to the colt and his basket. When I reached it I noticed that the doll was gone. A quick glance around the floor and the table revealed no signs of it. I turned back to the colt, who was looking at me expectantly. I reverted back to Marathi as I spoke to him."What did you do with the doll? It was right here?"

The colt didn't give a reply, but he swung his legs about as babies sometimes do. This was my second time coming across that doll, only to have it up and vanish into thin air both times. I had picked the thing up and felt it, so it couldn't be a figment of my imagination. Was the thing haunted, and really getting up and walking away on its own? It didn't matter. I wasn't here for the doll. I was here for the colt.

"If you're surging, please don't kick me. I'm going to pick you up. The people below might be more open if they see I need food for you. You want to get food, right?"

The colt just scrunched up his face, with an expression that forewarned an upcoming temper tantrum. I could deal with a temper tantrum, although I didn't want the extra noise. Hopefully I could calm him quickly, as he had been generally quiet to this point. I was more concerned about him bucking me and breaking my ribs.

I reached into the basket, and wrapped my hands around his sides. He was still doing his random flailing with his legs, and now he was doing the whimpering that came before the outbreak of tears. He started to cry as I lifted him up. I quickly pulled him close to me, and no sooner than when he had touched my chest, I felt a wet drizzle going down it. I pulled him back, and he continued to spray me with his urine. This was definitely a colt, as I could see the source of the yellow stream. He quickly added a rain of crap from his rear end, that plopped all over the floor as he went.

"Have you been holding that the whole time so you wouldn't go in your bed?!" I asked in disbelief. The colt looked at me, no longer seeming so upset. That had been the source of his current distress. He needed to relieve himself. "These people might not like that you pissed and crapped all over their floor, but at least you didn't do it in your blankets. I'm not able to properly clean them. Come on, let's see if you can buy us some sympathy."

I walked back to the opening in the floor, making as much noise as I could so they knew I was returning. When I looked down the woman was still there, and still holding that knife flat me. This time I held the colt with one arm against me, and made a gesture with my hand indicating putting food in my mouth. I then turned the colt towards her, and made a gesture of putting food in his mouth. He didn't seem to appreciate my fingers being put up to his muzzle like that, and let off an irritable squeal.

The woman stared at us for a few seconds, or more correctly, stared at the colt. The colt noticed he was being watched, and chartered at the new person, blissfully unaware that the new person was holding a weapon threateningly towards us. The woman continued to watch him, then glanced down at her daughter. She leaned down to whisper something to her daughter, all the while still holding the knife in our direction and never taking her eyes off us. The girl nodded to whatever the woman whispered, and darted off to somewhere out of my field of vision. She was only gone a few seconds before returning with a jar of something, along with what looked like a pair of sugar beets. The woman took one hand off the knife in order to take the jar, and bent down to give her daughter a quick kiss on the forehead. She then passed the knife to her daughter, and took the vegetables in return. She placed the beets into the folds of her garment, then took a deep breath, and then placed her free hand on the ladder that led up to me.

The daughter took up the position her mother had previously held, and the knife was shaking even more in her grip than it had been in her parent's. The woman carefully made her way up the ladder, using just one hand while carrying the jar in the other. I stepped away from the portal above in order to give her space.

When she climbed out of the cellar she took a quick look around. Her eyes lingered for a moment at the things I had been gathering on the table next to the colt's basket, no doubt aware I was looting her house. She then sniffed and looked down at the newly made pile of crap on the floor, before looking up and making an angry gesture at me. I shook my head and took a step back, pointing at the colt in my arm. The colt gave an excited babble in response to this, not realizing he'd made an offensive mess.

She shook her head, then walked quickly over to one of the windows. She lifted up the fabric just enough to peak outside, and spent several seconds checking out our surroundings before turning back to us. She then pointed two fingers at us.

I gestured to the colt and myself. "It's just the two of us. No one else."

I knew she couldn't understand my words, but she seemed to get the idea, since her posture relaxed a little more. She hurried over to the table and placed the jar and beets next to the rest of the items, before backing away from them.

"Aylin," she said, putting a hand over her chest. She then pointed her fingers at us, and I assumed she asked a question by her tone.

We didn't have names for me to give her. I'd been planning on naming the colt soon, and now was as good a time as any to come up with something. "Moses," I said, answering in English as I pointed at the colt. I'd found him in a basket that came from the river, so it seemed an appropriate name. I then pointed at myself and shook my head. "I don't know."

She pointed at herself. "Aylin." She then pointed at the colt. "Mozez." Then she pointed at me. "Ayedonno."

Sure, I guessed that was something for her to call me. I wasn't going to go claiming that as a name, but it worked for communication right now. She then pointed at the cellar entrance. "Rayana."

The girl must have assumed she was being called, as I heard her scurrying up the ladder. She immediately got into a defensive position when she reached the surface. I was getting really tired of having that knife aimed at me, but I supposed it was better than having it rammed into me. Now to figure out how to get answers without knowing a word of their languages.