Page 35 of Tiger's Tale
Hours passed. Then morning broke. All day she laid there waiting for Nik and her sister to find her, but they never came. She was so thirsty. Flies buzzed overhead, attracted to the old piece of meat dangling above. Veru estimated the meat couldn’t have been there more than a week.
She panted, her tongue swelling in her mouth. The sun was warm enough to cause some snowmelt, and rivulets of water streamed down the hard-packed dirt walls. Veru licked the wet puddles until they froze again at dusk, then laid on her side and slept. Her dreams were dark and nightmarish. In them, her mother warned her over and over not to trust anyone, but her mother was gone, wasn’t she?
Waking just before dawn, Veru blinked and remained motionless, barely breathing. There was a sound nearby. Footsteps. Someone walking through the brush. The desire to cry out to her sister, to Nik, was almost desperate, but instinct cautioned her to be quiet. A new scent tickled her nose. It was someone she’d never smelled before. A man. He carried with him the scents of other animals—of death. Panic set in, making her heart race and her muscles warm. Veru’s sharp claws dug into the soft earth, kneading the soil. She was ready to pounce on whoever tried to harm her.
With wide eyes, she turned her head quietly back and forth, watching the rim of the pit, waiting to see who would appear and look down. Her lips were peeled back in a silent snarl with fangs bared. Though she didn’t relish taking the life of a man, Veru reasoned that the world could do with one less hunter.
Her own breath felt hot as it bathed her face.Where is Stacia?Why haven’t they found me by now?Don’t they know I’m in danger?Whatever was going on with Nik and Stacia, it was too late for them to help her; Veru was going to have to save herself, hurt leg and all.
The footsteps came closer. She heard humming. A snarl erupted from her throat. Veru couldn’t stop it. The humming abruptly stopped, as did the footsteps. Good. Maybe she’d scared whoever he was away.
Then she heard a too-cheerful voice. “Well, hello down there. Be with you in a moment. Just need to adjust a few things up top first, if you don’t mind.”
There was some sawing and hammering and more stomping. Whoever the man was, he certainly wasn’t making any attempt to be silent. Veru’s ears pricked again and again, listening to his strange sounds, trying to figure out just what he was up to at the top of the pit. Her imagination ran wild.
Was he fashioning a spear with which to kill her? Perhaps he was making a cage in which to carry her off. If she could have laughed at that one, she would have. She heard no evidence of a horse or a cart, and Veru imagined she weighed twice as much as any of her armored soldiers. If he did want to capture her alive, it would be a difficult feat, that was certain. Then again, if he killed her and just took her fur, it would weigh much less.I’m not going to make it easy on him, she thought.
Veru heard his voice again. “Now then... what have we here?”
At first she couldn’t see his face. The sun was in just the right spot to halo the back of his head, darkening his features. Crouching down, he set his bag down beside him and leaned over to see into the shadows of the pit. Veru snarled viciously in response but was surprised to see not the middle-aged hunter she expected but a younger man, very near her own age.
Bunching her injured leg beneath her, Veru instinctively pounced, clawing with her front legs desperately against the dirt wall, trying to catch the young man’s bag strap that dangled over the edge. She hoped, at the very least, her efforts would serve to give him warning that she was not to be trifled with, but she collapsed in a heap. As a result, the trap tore open her skin, reinjuring her.
The young man held out his hands, obviously upset by the display. “Hush now, moya krasivaya koshechka. I did not expect to catch you. I’ve been hired to trap wolves. Never would I hunt one of your kind.” He rubbed a hand across his cheek, and Veru could hear the light scrape of stubble against his flesh, though his beard was so pale she could not see any hair on his face.
Slipping his hand up to his forehead, he removed his woven hat, and dark blond hair fell across his face. It was longer on top and short on the sides. The nose was long and aquiline, the lips full and brooding. By men’s standards, he was handsome, with high cheekbones, a square chin, and wide blue eyes, but Veru was unaffected by such things.
She’d learned long ago never to let a handsome man or a winning smile turn her head. More than anyone else, she knew better than to judge someone based on their outward appearance. Smoothing his dark blond hair back, he affixed his cap and bit his lower lip. “I must confess—I’m not quite sure what to do with you. If I let you out, you’re likely to kill me. Even if you didn’t, and I somehow got you out of that trap, it’s going to be difficult for you to hunt.”
Deciding she’d better help the young man figure out he needed to save her, Veru did her best to sit still and be quiet. She huffed quietly in response to his musings.
“I suppose the least I can do is get that net off.”
For a moment he stepped away and then returned with a long staff with a hook on the end. Very carefully, he lowered it next to Veru, and within a few tries had freed her from the net. Once he did, he whistled and sat cross-legged atop the pit. “I was right. You’re a beauty. Never seen the like of you before. All gold and white. What a price your fur would fetch.”
Veru roared softly.
He held up a hand. “I’m not saying I would. It’s just nice to think about the money once in a while, you know? Besides, I could never live with myself for doing it. Wolves are one thing, but a beauty like you is rare. My guilt is already bad enough I have to haul myself into a town with a church once a month for confession.”
After hearing the chuffing sound coming from below, the young man laughed. Veru liked the sound. His laugh was relaxed. Soothing. He was at ease with himself in a way that made her jealous. Not jealous like she felt around Stacia, but an admiring sort of feeling that left her wanting to figure him out. To emulate him in a way so she could acquire the same sort of acceptance within herself.
“Now I know what you’re thinking. What would an upstanding character such as me have to confess to a member of the church?” Leaning over, he grinned. “It’s a mystery, isn’t it?”
His grin fell away, and he quickly stood. “Let’s get you some water, girl. I’m certain you’re parched.”
As he figured out how to get water down to her, he continued talking. Veru found she enjoyed listening to him babble. “I’m not a drinking man, so get that vice right out of your head. Nor am I cruel to women or children. Skirt-chasing isn’t my thing. The truth is, I don’t think there’s a woman out there who’d take to my lifestyle. I like the outdoors far too much. There’s too much to do and see and explore out here. I hate farming and the idea of being trapped in a small house for the rest of my life...”
He’d been carving a large piece of tree bark into a bowl of sorts when he paused. “Oh... excuse me for being indelicate. I forgot that here you are trapped in a pit while I’m up here free as a bird complaining about being stuck in a house somewhere. Where are my manners? If you’ll forgive me, I’ll try not to talk so much and hurry up.”
Finishing his makeshift tree bark bowl, he dropped it down into the pit, and luckily it landed with the bowl angled up. It took a few tries, but eventually he was able to fill it at least halfway with water. Veru lapped greedily, draining it within one moment, and he refilled it with his remaining supply and finished his tale.
“As I was saying, the reason I have to attend confession is one you might have guessed. It has to do with my profession. I’m a trapper by trade—specializing in fox, mink, and sable. Occasionally, I accept contracts offered by area locals and create larger traps, such as the one you currently find yourself in. I know most trappers wouldn’t be bothered by their work, but I can’t help it.”
He looked down at Veru as she lapped at the wooden bowl, trying to catch the last few drops of water. Giving up, she sat on her haunches and, tilting her head, stared back. Their eyes locked.
“That’s the thing, isn’t it?” he said in almost a whisper, his beautiful blue eyes bright with unshed tears. “When you’ve spent time with God’s creatures, you learn they have souls. And what makes their souls less important than mine?”
He sniffled, then cleared his throat. “So now you know my secret, don’t you, my beauty?”
