Page 48 of Tiger's Tale
Nik finished most of what was in his bowl quickly. Kneeling by Veru, he held out the bowl with the tiny remaining portion at the bottom. “You should eat something—try to lick it out.” She wouldn’t even open her eyes. But at least he could see that her chest was moving in a rhythmic pattern. Giving up, he tried with Stacia. “Are you hungry?”
The red tiger had a difficult time opening her eyes as well but managed a soft rumble in her chest. Her tongue darted out toward Nik’s bowl. A glob of sticky oats clung to her rough tongue. She swallowed it and went back for a second and third lick, keeping at it until no trace of the oats remained. He dipped the bowl in the water and brought it back to her. She downed three bowlfuls, splattering him in the process with a mixture of trough water and tiger spittle.
“Thanks a lot,” he said when she laid her head back down. He stayed long enough to see her exhale a long, weary breath, and then her body began moving like her sister’s in a steady sleeping rhythm. Nik placed a hand on her shoulder and said softly, “Seriously, Stacia, spasibo. Thank you for carrying me through the snow. You saved my life. I won’t forget it.”
Nik tried then to give some water to Veru, but she wasn’t interested. All he got from her was a very slight moan or growl. Either that meant she wanted to be left alone, or she was very bad off indeed. Still concerned, he laid down, fluffing the straw as best he could to make a pillow, and nearly the moment he shut his eyes he was fast asleep.
Nik didn’t stir at all until very late the next morning when he was awoken by the sound of movement and snuffling in the straw nearby. At first he couldn’t recall where he was, exactly. It was very dark in the barn, and he could hear the wind and sleet beating hard in fits and starts against the sides of the structure, sending freezing gusts of air through the cracks in the wood. Panic seized him for just a moment when he sensed the presence of another man nearby, but then he counted slowly, deliberately relaxing his muscles as he listened to the sounds around him, letting his dreams and nightmares fade and reality take over.
Slitting his eyes open at last, he could see that Danik had built up the little fire again and was alert and moving around. Nik wondered how long he’d been asleep or if the hunter had slept at all. The snuffling sound was coming from Veru. The hunter knelt beside her, his hand on her neck. Apparently, he’d just gotten her to drink. Yawning sleepily, attempting to appear at ease, and not at all bothered by the fact that the hunter had been able to coax Veru to drink but not himself, Nik asked, “How’s she doing?”
“A bit better,” Danik replied. “She’s eaten some. It revived her enough, I believe.”
Curious, Nik rose to a sitting position. He discovered then that hay stuck to every inch of him, including his hair, but Danik had somehow managed to end up hay-free. He tried swiping it off, only to find the little sticks had penetrated the fabric of his clothing. Grunting in irritation, he started plucking it free and tossing it aside. “What did you feed her?” he asked as he plucked.
“Mostly mice. A few rats.”
Nik’s mouth fell open.
Danik went on. “Look, I know it’s not preferred, but it’s what’s available. They’re nice and fat in the winter, so they’ve got a little bit of meat on them at least. It’s better than nothing. Don’t you think?”
Nik smacked his mouth in a distasteful way and gave the hunter a sour look. “Vermin? You fed the tsarevna of the Kievian Empire vermin?”
“Tsarevnas. Plural.” Danik turned and stared down his nose at Nikolai. “You seem to have a rather bad habit of forgetting Tsarevna Anastasia. Why is that, I wonder? I would think you’d be grateful to the lady who saved your life.”
“I am, of course...”
“Would you rather they starved?”
“No... but...”
They were interrupted by a banging on the barn door, which was then subsequently opened. A friendly voice called out, “Privet, puteshestvenniki. I saw your light and brought some food and blankets. It seems the storm is going to last a bit longer, so...” Though Danik had risen to his feet quickly and tried to head off the visitor, he hadn’t been quick enough.
The young man stood just outside the stall, looking in, with the open door pressed against his back. His face was as pale as if he’d just been visited by a heavenly messenger. As Danik approached, the frightened priest turned, allowing the door to nearly close on its squeaking hinge. He didn’t run, though, or drop the stack of blankets, which was something. Nik had to give him credit for that.
“Zakhar. Wait,” Danik said, holding up a hand. “Please let me explain.”
The priest swallowed, turned back, and then thrust the blankets into Danik’s hands and closed the stall door firmly, making certain he stood on the opposite side of his visitors. He made the sign of the cross and mumbled a prayer, then wet his lips and nodded to Danik. “Yes. Explain, but quickly, my friend.”
“Zakhar, this is Nikolai Novikov. Nik, this is Zakhar Balakin, the head student of seminary training here at the Saint Vladimir II Cathedral. He’s in his final year of study before entering the priesthood and taking the final vows.”
“Priyatna Poznakomit’sya,” Nik said politely.
“Yes, yes,” the young cleric said stonily with a barely perceptible nod, his eyes fixed on the large animals behind Nik. “It is lovely to meet you as well on such a beautiful day as this. God has blessed us, has He not?” He tried to smile, but it was a half-hearted effort, and it faded rapidly. After that, the priest crossed himself and mumbled a silent prayer again.
“Zakhar, calm down,” Nik said. “They’re not going to hurt you.”
Gripping the stall door, the priest gave Danik a look of panic and replied in a tone that was half irritation and half anger. Nik pressed his fingers over his lips to stop himself from laughing. He figured if Danik could make a priest angry, he shouldn’t feel so bad. “What is this you are saying, hunter?” the priest asked. “How can you mean they will not hurt me? Do you think I am as faithful as Daniil, who sat all night with the lions?No. I assure you. I am not. God knows I am no prophet. Every day I beat the wickedness from my breast as I prepare myself for my calling, and every day I know I fall short.”
The priest demonstrated the act by actually thumping his fist against his chest. When Nik heard the hollow sound coming from the priest, he actually did laugh, but quickly controlled himself when Danik gave him a glance that promised retaliation.
Not even noticing the laugh, Zakhar continued his litany of self-recrimination. Danik opened the stall door, standing with his own back to it to keep it open, while the priest clasped his hands behind his back and began pacing. “Surely, there is not a more ill-prepared student working under the illustrious Bishop Rudimov. I shall fail in my studies, and when I do, I’ll return to my hometown in shame.”
“No, Zakhar, you won’t,” Danik said. “You’re the smartest man I know. Bishop Rudimov must believe it too. Why else would he make you the top student of your class?”
The priest paused in his pacing. “Personally, I believe it’s due to his thinking I need to practice my leadership skills. I fear he finds them lacking.”
Danik took hold of the priest’s shoulders and shook him. “I need you to stop running down this mental road like you always do and put that big brain of yours to better use.”
