"Dalit, go, deal with that deer."
"Dalit, go, find some firewood and bring it back."
"Dalit, go, scout ahead a bit."
"Dalit…"
...
Night was deep. The campfire burned, its crimson light painting the pitch‑black trunks.
Wind slipped through the forest; even sitting beside the flames, the chill could still be felt.
This was a high‑latitude region, close to the Arctic, and it was the Ice Age. Even if terrain made the temperature in the Black Forest slightly higher, it was still very cold for an Indian.
Ambedkar's brown face was lit by the fire, turning a jujube‑red. He leaned his back against a tree trunk—
that could block some of the cold wind and let him feel a bit of warmth.
Though he didn't want to recall it, everything that had happened since the challenge began kept replaying in his mind.
"Dalit" means untouchable; in India's caste system, it sits at the very bottom. These people have another name: the nameless, or those not to be touched.
