Page 51 of Tiger's Destiny
“I killed a tree,” I said through a sniffle. “I think these trees feed off of fire and die when they come into contact with water. I tried to save them but I don’t have enough power.”
He studied the tree, and then picked up my hand and placed it onto the trunk. “Try again.”
I closed my eyes and let the fire build up until it began to flow into the tree. I sensed the feeble glow deep within it respond to me and reach out with weak fingers. We stretched toward each other, but I knew we’d never bridge the gap. In despair, I sobbed anew, but then I felt a burst of golden energy radiate out of my hands and travel from the tree’s roots to the once-fiery leaves. The liquid gold rushed through deadened limbs, invigorating dried, brown tendrils as it went.
Pulsing with new life, the tree reached toward me and softly stroked my hair and face. My tears dried in the warmth. A branch wrapped me into a leafy embrace, and I joyfully stood in its glow. Turning around, I realized that all the other trees had also been healed.
“How did one tree heal them all?” I asked out loud.
Ren answered, “Maybe their roots are connected.”
Ren brushed the hair away from my neck and ran his thumb lightly across the sensitive place just behind my ear. I shivered, and my eyes met his.
“Maybe they responded to your touch,” he said quietly, his lips just inches from mine.
“Why do you have to look at me like that?” I asked while stepping away and lowering my eyes.
His hand dropped from my neck. “How am I looking at you?”
“Like I’m an antelope. Same as before.”
Ren smiled slightly, but then his expression became serious as he pulled me into his arms. “Maybe it’s because I’m starving.”
“Didn’t you eat this morning?” My attempt to diffuse the tension with humor failed.
“I don’t want food, Kelsey. I’m starving for you.”
I was about to protest when he pressed his finger against my lips. “Shh . . . Just let me enjoy this moment. I get precious few of them. I promise I won’t kiss you. I just want to hold you and not think of anything or anyone else.”
Sighing, I let my head drop against his chest.
A minute or two later, an annoyed Kishan asked, “Are you done hugging my fiancée?”
Ren stiffened and backed away, saying nothing.
“We were healing the . . .”
Kishan spun on his heels and stormed off.
“. . . trees,” I said to his back as he retreated.
Clearly it was time to get moving again, and after an hour’s hike made mostly in silence, we came upon a meadow full of glowing flowers bobbing on thin black stalks. The undergrowth was layered with golden hedges, vermillion bushes, crimson shrubs, and dead copper bracken, while the surrounding thicket burned with trees in lightning yellow, sunset orange, and scarlet.
We stopped to take in the beauty of the forest around us, and that’s when I heard the thump of wings on the air. Kishan unhooked hischakramand Ren drew the golden sword, separated it into two, and tossed one to Kishan. He also twisted the Sai knife hanging at his side until it lengthened into the familiar form of the trident. He raised his arm, ready to throw it like a javelin.
We heard the unmistakable sound of a bird screeching. I swallowed and searched the dark sky, hoping it wasn’t another set of iron birds. The creature shot toward us like a flaming comet, blackened around the edges but burning from within.
It circled in the sky, tilting its head to look at us with one white eye scanning the ground like a searchlight. The bird opened its curved eagle’s beak and screeched again, then it flapped its wings quickly as it descended straight for us.
The flight feathers lining the bird’s wings were soft—part angel hair and part flame. Broad wings ended in defined wingtips that were candlelight yellow nearer the body but ended in a red so dark, it was almost black.
Its beak was golden, and its feet were covered with dark orange feathers, ending with powerful, sharp talons. A fiery crest lifted from its head, and long crimson plumage protected its nape and reflected the flaming light. It had a long tail that fanned out behind it as it flew. The flickering colors matched the flora of the land, and as the wings, tail, and crest rippled in the wind, the bird truly looked as if it were on fire.
It landed on a fallen log and gripped the wood tightly with its talons. Dancing back and forth until it was balanced, the bird folded its wings and peered at the three of us. A masculine voice penetrated the meadow. Warm and musical, it seemed to shimmer like the world around us.
“Why have you come to my realm?” the bird asked.
Ren stepped forward. “We’re looking for the Rope of Fire.”
