Page 32 of Tiger's Trek
“Do you think you can show us the way back to your home?” Zakhar asked.
At that, the little girl shook her head vehemently. “I know the way, but I can’t cross the bridge. Trolls live underneath. They see through the planks and wait for you to drop through, then they catch you and cook you for supper. Then they use your bones to play music at night.”
Zakhar asked, “How did you get to this side of the water if it’s so dangerous to cross over?”
She shrugged. “They know how to get across safely. I was out hunting berries with my aunties. It must have been time to go, but I didn’t hear them. I fell asleep, and when I woke up, they were gone.”
Stacia and Zakhar glanced at each other. “How many days have you been out here by yourself?” Stacia asked.
“I don’t know.” Zima shrugged. Her thumb immediately went back into her mouth, and she began sucking it fiercely.
Smiling, Stacia said, “I’ll bet you’re hungry. Would you like something to eat?”
The little girl nodded, and Zakhar offered her a bit of bread with some meat tucked in the middle. She nibbled on it and edged closer to Iriko while she did.
“What’s your kitty’s name?” she asked as some crumbs fell from her lips and onto Iriko’s coat.
“Iriko.”
“That’s a strange name.”
“Yes. He says he likes scratches on his neck. Right here.”
“You can talk to him?”
“I can. With magic.”
“Oh. My aunties have magic too. That’s how they made me.”
“Made you?” Stacia asked. “What do you mean?”
“They said I’m their perfect little girl. They fashioned me from ice and snowflakes. I’m their little snow girl. That’s why they call me Zima. It means frost.” She laughed when the tiger chuffed. “I think he likes me.”
“I think he does,” Stacia said, looking at the little girl with new eyes and wondering what, exactly, Zima was and what the little girl might mean to them.
* * *
With Zima sitting on Iriko’s back, the group made their way to the fork in the river, and then they passed over to the south side and continued on until dark. The next morning they walked for half a day, and every hour the river became wider and deeper. Soon they saw signs of other people. There was a trail that became a path and then a road. Signs pointed ahead to a village, and Zima confirmed that it was indeed her village that lay ahead. They were just wondering how they’d cross over and began looking for a good place, when they saw the bridge.
It was at this point that Zima became very agitated. “We can’t cross there,” she said. “I already told you about the trolls. They’re going to grab us.”
There was, in fact, a warning sign posted on the road nearby, with a wooden donation box beneath it. It read:
Travelrs cross at your own parile.
Pay the toll.
Misers risk highway robbery.
Or worse.
Stacia stood there for a moment, reading the sign. Then she snorted and gave a cursory glance under the bridge. Seeing nothing, she scouted the trees and bushes nearby, then clicked open the blade of her walking stick and said, “Come, Zakhar. Stay just behind me. Iriko, stay behind him, if you will.”
“But shouldn’t we put something in the box?” Zakhar asked.
“Do we have any coins in our packs? I don’t recall seeing any.”
Zakhar shook his head. “No. Nothing like that. But perhaps they will take something else.”
