Page 60 of Tiger's Tale
Nikolai and Danik hurried to their sides, offering them meat, and began searching for firewood so they could melt snow to water. As the three men worked, Matriova walked slowly, her eyes searching the area and studying the ground, looking for tracks.
“He’s here,” she said. “I can sense him.”
“I don’t see anything,” Danik said, joining her, lending his hunter’s eye.
“Nevertheless. My son is here. He’s studying us somehow. I believe he senses our presence as we do his.”
When everyone was settled, Zakhar and Danik headed out into the trees to hunt. This time with only simple traps and nothing large enough to catch a tiger. Danik didn’t want to trap Iriko by mistake, remembering Veru’s poor leg as it tried to heal over and over again against the steel teeth. When night fell, they returned with a few birds and roasted some of the meat left in their packs. Stacia and Veru were exhausted and slept deeply. Soon the men laid down to doze as well. Only Zakhar and Matriova remained awake, as he was showing her the pages he’d drawn.
He’d just unrolled the scroll he’d recovered and discovered to his delight that she knew the language, when she shushed him at hearing the crack of a branch. The circle of firelight didn’t light much area past their small camp, so they peered into the darkness, looking for traces of life.
“Hello?” Matriova called out. “Is that you, son? Please come out.”
They heard a snarl and a deep growl in response. Immediately, Stacia and Veru rose from their sleeping positions and darted quickly toward the trees. They disappeared into the darkness beyond the campfire. Danik and Nikolai rose as well, blinking sleep from their eyes.
“What’s happening?” Danik asked.
They heard a roar and a tussle in the snow. Then all went quiet.
“Should we go after them?” asked Nik.
“Wait,” Matriova said, holding up a hand.
Straining, they heard a noise, very soft, like a rhythmic pulse that grew louder. They realized it was the sound of paws on snow. Soon they saw the dark shadows of the tigers followed by a third shadow. When they stepped into the light, Veru growled softly, and Stacia whined. Behind them, treading in the snow barefoot, as lightly as the two tigers had, was a young man, tall and handsome.
His long, dark hair hung loose down his back. The reindeer tunic and leggings he wore no longer fit and were torn in places. Where the tunic should have been closed, he’d cut it open down the center to account for his expanding, muscular chest, and he’d ripped off the arms and widened the holes so his arms could fit through. The leggings hung on his narrow hips and were now far too short to provide any warmth from the snow. Around his neck hung an all too familiar charm.
A keening sound came from Matriova as she took in the sight. Zakhar could see crystal tears coursing down her cheeks. His heart broke for the older woman, but then he looked at the young man, and he saw nothing but flint in his expression.
“Oh, my boy,” Matriova said. “My Iriko.” She rose and removed her own fur-lined cloak to wrap around his shoulders.
But as she was securing it, he grabbed her hands, stopping her, then stepped back, wrenched the beautiful wrap from his body, and tossed it mercilessly to the snow, saying, “I am no boy, woman. And I have no mother. You should know better than to try to warm a glacier. Don’t you remember that ice feels nothing?”
20
THE EYE MAY SEE IT, BUT THE PROOF IS IN THE TOOTH
For a moment all was silent except for the crackle of the logs as they sunk deeper into the fire. Zakhar and Danik instinctively wanted to protect the older woman from the snarling young man. As for Nik, he felt frozen in place. It was as if he were watching a play in which another boy was speaking words he longed to say to his own mother.
He could almost see how the words cut her, and yet he could also see how the young man needed his mother to see him, to love him, despite the things he’d done. It was there, but it was buried so deep, he doubted anyone else but him would see it.
Veru and Stacia sat on opposite sides of the new arrival, their eyes trained on him. He was what they’d been looking for, and they hadn’t known it. They could feel the tiger clawing at his insides. It raged and paced, longing to emerge and greet them, but the young man had built up a very effective cage. His tiger spirit was trapped. Because of this, he was going mad. The tiger inside him foamed in fury, fuming and bellowing, leaking angry poisons that festered and boiled.
“You are not made of ice, Iriko. You are my son,” Matriova said. “I claimed you as mine the day you fluttered in my womb, and every day since my thoughts have been with you. Though we’ve been apart, I have not forgotten you.”
“You abandoned me!” Iriko shouted.
“No! The people rejected you. I had a duty?—”
“You had a duty to me!”
Iriko’s breaths came quickly, and his hands tightened into fists.
Matriova stepped closer and touched his broad shoulder. “You’re right, my son. You’re right. I should have left with you. Perhaps someday you can find a way to forgive a very old woman.”
She shifted closer to him, lifting her cloak once again and speaking to him comforting words in her native language. This time he allowed her to tie the cloak around his shoulders, but when she was done, he stiffened his body again and said, “Why have you come? Why now? Tell me quickly so I can refuse your request and return to my solitude.”
“Very well,” Matriova said and held up a hand to stop Zakhar when he was about to protest and suggest some manner of diplomacy or breaking camp first. “I am helping these people on their quest. They need to be guided to the Dreaming Mountain so they can meet with the White Shaman of the Tundra. At long last two of our tiger tokens have returned to us, but they need help. These men have vowed to assist them.”
