Page 159 of Tiger's Quest
“Ren?” I said and held out a hand.
He narrowed his eyes at me, clenched his fist, and swung with a burst of energy I didn’t expect he had. I felt a sharp pain in my jaw and then nothing as my body slumped to the ground.
26
Baiga
Ifelt movement and woke to find myself staring up at a dark green canopy. Kishan was carrying me through the jungle. He looked like himself again, which I have to admit was a relief. I’d been uncomfortable staring at him in his disguise.
“Kishan? Where are we going?”
“Shh. Relax. We’re following the Baiga deeper into the jungle. We have to get as far away from the encampment as possible.”
“How long have I been out?”
“About three hours. How do you feel?”
I touched my jaw lightly. “Like a bear punched me. Is he . . .okay?”
“He’s out of it. The Baiga are carrying him on a makeshift gurney.”
“He’s safe though?”
“Safe enough.”
He spoke softly in another language to Mr. Kadam who approached to examine my face and lift a canteen to my lips. I drank slowly, swallowing painfully as I worked my jaw as little as possible.
“Can you lower me, Kishan? I think I can walk.”
“Okay, lean on me if you need to.”
He carefully lowered my legs to the ground and steadied me as I swayed, trying to regain my equilibrium. I hobbled for a while on my twisted ankle, but Kishan growled and soon picked me up again. I settled back against his chest and could feel my whole body aching. Bruises covered most of my body, and I could barely move my jaw.
We were part of a long procession. The Baiga wove between the trees quietly. I couldn’t even hear their footsteps. Dozens of people passed and nodded in a show of respect as they stepped around us. Even the women and children didn’t make a noise, not a whisper of sound, as they moved silently like ghosts through the dark jungle.
Four large men carried a stretcher with a slumped form on top. As it passed, I craned my neck to catch a glimpse of him. Kishan fell into step behind them so I could see Ren’s inert form. He adjusted his grip easily and hugged me a little tighter to his chest, his expression unreadable.
We walked for another hour. Ren slept the entire time. When we came to a clearing, an older Baiga man approached Mr. Kadam and humbly prostrated himself before him. Mr. Kadam turned to us and said that the Baiga would camp for the night. We were invited to their celebratory feast.
I wondered if it might be better for us to keep moving toward our rendez-vous point, but I decided to follow Mr. Kadam’s lead. Hewasthe military strategist, and if he thought it was safe, it probably was. Actually, it was refreshing to let someone else take charge for once. It also couldn’t hurt to let Ren sleep a bit more before we traveled farther.
We watched the Baiga set up camp. They were extremely efficient, but they were missing most of their supplies. Mr. Kadam took pity on them and used the Divine Scarf to create sleeping quarters for each family. My attention diverted to Ren. The men carried him into a tent just as Mr. Kadam called me over.
Kishan, seeing I was torn, told me he would check on Ren, set me down carefully near Mr. Kadam, and then headed toward the tent. He mentioned that it would be better for me to stay with Mr. Kadam but didn’t explain why.
After he left, Mr. Kadam asked if I would use the Golden Fruit to create a feast for the Baiga. They needed to be fed. Several of them were starving too. Lokesh had forced them to stay in camp and use their magic to keep Ren safely contained. They hadn’t been able to hunt for a long time. He gave me instructions and then used the Divine Scarf to create a thick rug that the entire tribe could sit on.
I took the Golden Fruit out of my bag and began creating the dishes he’d requested. Rice with fragrant steaming mushrooms, chopped mango mixed with other local fruits that I hoped I pronounced correctly, roasted fish, wild salad greens, grilled vegetables, and for good measure, I added on a giant strawberry shortcake with fresh whipped cream and Bavarian filling, like we’d had in Shangri-la. Mr. Kadam raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
He invited the Baiga to sit and partake of the feast. Kishan soon came back and sat beside me. He whispered that the Baiga were taking good care of Ren. As everyone took their places, I tried to excuse myself to join Ren. As I struggled to stand, Kishan wrapped a hand around my arm firmly, whispered that I should stay near Mr. Kadam, and emphasized again that Ren would be fine. He seemed earnest about it, so I stayed. Mr. Kadam began speaking in their language. I waited patiently for him to finish his speech and kept looking at the tents, hoping for a glimpse of Ren.
When Mr. Kadam was finished, two young Baiga women walked the perimeter of the circle, bathing each person’s hands in fragrant orange blossom water. When they’d washed the hands of every person, huge bowls of food were passed around. There were no plates or utensils. The Golden Fruit could have created them, but Mr. Kadam wanted to feast after the fashion of the Baiga. We took a few handfuls, ate, and then passed the dish on to the next person. I wasn’t very hungry, but Kishan wouldn’t take the bowl until I’d had at least one bite of each type of food.
When the food made a full circle and everyone had had a portion, the bowls were passed around again. This process continued until all the food was gone. I used my canteen to clean my hands and tried to be patient as the Baiga moved on to the next ritual. When I whispered to Kishan that time was of the essence, he said that we had plenty of time and that Ren would need a while to recover.
The Baiga began celebrating in earnest. Musical instruments were brought out. They chanted and danced. Two women approached me with bowls of black liquid and spoke. Mr. Kadam translated, “They are asking if you would like a tattoo to commemorate your husband’s victory over the evil one.”
“Who do they think I’m married to?”
