The mist was closing in fast and it was deadly cold. All members of the
small group shivered violently, a mixture of cold and dread inspiring the
shakes. The bewitching hour had already passed, and the Yakush had not
made an appearance yet. Dylan was nodding off, Ash was super alert with
the camcorder in one hand and the telescope in the other,

Rose was happily humming a Tamil song tunelessly, and Menaka was missing her warm
blankets and the heater at home. Dylan was exhausted after spending the
last two hours gazing at Menaka and wishing that he could express his love
telepathically.
He had spent more than a year trying to do the same when she lived
over the fence. Then, when he was ready to lay every bit of his courage and
dignity on the line, they had moved house. He had put it aside again, the
distance eating in to his sudden swell of bravery.
Menaka and her mother had moved to a new house a few kilometres
away. He adored everything about her; her super slim figure, olive complexion,

shoulder length hair, dark eyes and that sweet dimpled smile that lit
up her space and infected everyone else who happened to be in it. He even
adored the rare butterfly-shaped birthmark on her right wrist. But now she
had a huge crush on her piano teacher. Dylan had had every opportunity;
their families had become good friends, he had convenience and access, but
hadn’t made a move. He feared losing his friendship with her. Dylan’s sigh
broke through louder than expected.

“You’ll never ask her, you wuss, perhaps you might get your guts when
she is an old grandmother with great grand children,” Ash, short for
Ashwin had rubbed it in one day at the playground. Dylan had punched
him with a degree of lighthearted violence. He hated the truth. They
were both seventeen and went to the same school – Trinity Catholic Boys
College. He was sure that being in a boys’ school had blunted his skill set
and confidence around chicks, compounded by an unhealthy increase in
curiosity for the damn creatures. He didn’t want to blame it on his natural
shyness, it was impossible to change that, but he was painfully aware of his
thin and tall geeky looking frame, and his absolute lack of will to change it
through hard work.

“You know I would have asked her the next day, what’s the big deal, she
could say yes or no, right?” Ash was brutally casual.
Dylan was jealous as hell of Ash’s confidence; Ashwin was a freak of
nature. He was a born charmer, and girls just buzzed around him. He had
left a colourful trail of broken hearts with some of the prettiest girls in town,
Dylan could only dream of some of them. Perhaps they even loved the
stupid shock of well-manicured hair that he had generated just above his
forehead. Dylan didn’t want to think it was his nice tan or his athletic body
built over years of playing sports; surely chicks weren’t that stupid. Ash
loved his soccer. And he was good in his grades.

Dylan had gone nuts trying to work him out ever since they had become good friends. He wanted
to learn the tricks.

“I respect them, I don’t worship them like you do, you dork,” Ash went
on while casually executing a difficult backwards stretch.

“Just buy her a box of those heart shaped Kondas chocolates for her sixteenth, and let’s
check out the reaction.”
Ash had provided the strategy for Menaka’s sixteenth birthday with
a yawn.
“But what if she throws it in my face?” Dylan had brought forward his
natural born worrier spirit.

“Well then I could eat it,” Ash had laughed, ducking Dylan’s anticipated
blow.
They had bought the gift and Dylan had promptly switched it with a
standard chocolate box at the last minute. She had sizzled that day in an
embroidered organza dress; Dylan had approached her for the kiss on wobbly feet.

She had turned her head just as he aligned his cheek with hers. Lips
had met, and he suffered a near nervous breakdown. He had apologised,
but words failed. She had turned away, a crushing blush blossoming on her
face, and Ash had made matters worse.
“You know what? This guy bought a nice box of those heart-shaped
chocolates, and swapped it for the one you got.”
Dylan just wanted to breathe long enough to murder him.

“No way! I love that type. Shame, hope you haven’t finished all of them
Ash?” Menaka had said, making a sad face at Dylan.

“It’s all done and digested,” Ash said with a concocted burp. Dylan hated
him for finishing the box.
He now looked at her with anguish, so close yet so far.
They were in the tree house on Ashwin’s tea estate – which was right next
to Horton Plains – built in the airy branches of a Willard mango tree. They
could sense the mountains lording over them in the clouds. Pidurutalagala,
the highest peak in the land, was among these giants. The plains spread next
to them, a vast milky white ocean where forest and Sambar stood out like
ghosts. The forest hid deadly predators like the leopard and the sloth bear.
Sambar, a kind of deer, had come out in their dozens under the protective
gaze of the dusk and mist.
They were on a mission; one million rupees lay at stake. The local
Geographic Society had put it on offer for any solid evidence or footage
of the Yakush. Was it fact or myth? This beast living deep in the forest had
created quite a stir in their quiet city.
Yaku, devil in Sinhalese, had inspired the villagers to name it the Yakush.
Villagers on the Horton Plains swore that their cattle and livestock were
destroyed by it. They said that leopards were known to kill by a single throttle to the neck.

But these creatures were killed by a vicious assault on their
skulls, long teeth piercing the bone, and long claws tunneling deep in to the
flesh with ease. Victims included the sambar that roamed the plains and
the domestic cattle. They claimed that it attacked in thick mist or under the
cover of darkness. There were suspicions that it was equally at home atop
the trees and may launch aerial assaults on its terrified victims.
Some villagers had given chilling eyewitness accounts – bloodshot glowing eyes,

velvety tawny skin, upright and super tall with the hind legs of a
large cat. But it was its mournful and blood-curdling shriek that tormented
them the most. Some children swore that they were attacked near Bakers
Falls when they went for a dip in the icy cold waters. One had gone into
shock and the Catholic priest had to bless him with holy water, which had
healed him. There had been scratches on one of them, which catapulted
him to instant fame, and he had granted himself a lifetime license for the
bragging rights.