Page 161 of Tiger's Quest
I whispered, “What is it? What’s going on?”
“Wait just a moment, Miss Kelsey.”
Kishan stood and spoke quietly to Ren. Ren folded his arms across his chest and indicated the two women again. Kishan began arguing quietly with his brother. He looked over at me and then at Mr. Kadam as if asking for help. Ren seemed more confused than angry. He asked something that sounded like a question. In response, Kishan gestured adamantly and pointed to thegunia. Ren laughed, touched the hair of the girl, rubbed it between his fingers, and said something to her that made her laugh.
“Are those girls planning to cut off their hair too? I asked.”
Mr. Kadam frowned. “No. I don’t believe so.”
Kishan bowed to theguniaand the two women, said a few words, and then turned his back to Ren and sat down by me again. Ren smiled at the girl, shrugged his shoulders, and sat back down near Kishan.
“Mr. Kadam! What just happened?”
He cleared his throat. “Ah, yes . . . it wouldappearthat the Baiga wish to offer our two sons permanent membership in the tribe.”
“So they’re asking them to join the Baiga club? Okay, so they join. What’s the harm in that?”
“The way they join is to marry two Baiga women. These two sisters have offered themselves to our noble sons.”
“Oh.” I furrowed my brow in confusion. “Then what were Kishan and Ren arguing about?”
“They were arguing about . . . whether they should agree or not.”
“Uh-huh. Then why was Ren touching that woman’s hair?”
“I . . . really couldn’t say.” Mr. Kadam turned aside, obviously unwilling to continue the conversation.
I thought about what I had seen and then elbowed Kishan. “Kishan, if you want a Baiga wife, it’s okay. I mean, if that will make you happy, then go for it,” I whispered. “They’re both very pretty.”
He growled at me quietly, “I don’t want a Baiga wife, Kells. I’ll explain later.”
Now I wasmoreconfused and slightly jealous, but I shook it off remembering that different cultures interpreted gestures in different ways. I decided to drop it and watch the festivities. By the time the celebration was over, my head was drooping sleepily on Mr. Kadam’s shoulder.
Kishan shook me awake. “Kells? Come on. Time to go.”
He pulled me to my feet and slid my backpack onto his own shoulders before giving Ren instructions. Ren seemed happy to do whatever Kishan told him to. Mr. Kadam said his good-byes to the Baiga, who all settled in for the night while we made our way toward our rendez-vous.
Mr. Kadam turned on a fancy military gadget. It was a watch with a video screen about the size of a deck of cards that uploaded satellite imagery as we walked. Not only did it show our current longitude and latitude, but it kept a record of how many miles or kilometers we had to go to reach our destination.
Ren changed to a tiger. Kishan said that it would help him heal faster. He trotted along behind us. I tried to walk again, but my ankle was swollen to the size of a grapefruit. Mr. Kadam wrapped it with an ace bandage before we ate, gave me some ibuprofen to reduce the swelling, and made me elevate it, but I needed ice. It still throbbed. Kishan let me walk for a little while because I was being stubborn about it but insisted I use his arm for support. Ren passed near me, but when I reached out a hand to touch his head, he growled at me softly. Kishan quickly put himself between us.
“Kishan? What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s . . . not himself, Kells.”
“It’s like he doesn’t know me.”
Kishan tried to comfort me by saying, “He’s probably responding to you just as any injured animal does. It’s a protection thing. Perfectly natural.”
“But when you two were injured in the jungle before, I took care of you. Neither of you tried to hurt me or attack me. You always knew who I was.”
“We don’t know yet what Lokesh did to him. I’m sure he’ll snap out of it as his wounds heal. For now, I want you to always stay near me or Mr. Kadam. A wounded tiger is a very dangerous creature.”
“Okay,” I agreed reluctantly, “I don’t want to cause him any more pain than he’s already in.”
After indulging me in a few more painfully slow minutes of walking, Kishan picked me up. When I protested that I’d tire him, he scoffed and said he could carry me for days and not be tired. I slept in his arms as we hiked through the jungle. When we stopped, he set me down gently. I wobbled, and Kishan’s arm around my shoulders was the only thing that kept me upright.
“Mr. Kadam? What is this place?”
