Page 4 of Tiger's Trek
In fact, they were about to make camp as best they could without food or fire when they spotted a sign of smoke not far from where they were.
“Should we go investigate?” Danik asked. “He could be the one you’re searching for.”
“It’s probably him,” she agreed, biting her lip and glancing at the quickly darkening sky. “Do you think we can make it?”
“If your feet can take it in those shoes, I’d say yes.”
Truthfully, Veru hadn’t given the shoes a thought. She glanced down at her slippers and smiled. “My paws are tougher than you think,” she teased.
“Let’s press on, then, if your, um,pawscan take it.”
They ended up crossing the stream three times in an attempt to avoid the worst of the brambles, which made the trek to the source of the fire a much longer process than it should have been. Veru missed her tiger eyes as well as the stamina she used to have. Her body was weary. She couldn’t recall ever feeling as weak as she did now—even when she’d been human before. It was like all her muscles had turned into the wet noodles her nurse fed her with broth when she felt ill.
Perhaps that was the trouble. All the trekking through the cold and damp had made her sick. She wondered if Stacia and Iriko were facing the same thing. Perhaps it was a malady that affected only those with a tiger nature. Danik certainly looked like his normal, hardy self. They continued walking long past sunset, peering into the dark, searching for signs of the smoke, and stopped often to listen intently for animals that might be hunting them.
Both were grateful when the full moon rose, bathing the trees with dim light, and Veru swallowed her pride and stifled her nerves when Danik reached for her hand. Despite his denial of hunting ability, he appeared to possess a keen sense of direction, much more so than Veru herself. This both impressed the tsarevna and made her inwardly chafe at the same time. Never in her life had she been dependent upon a man before. She loathed the very idea of it, and yet there was a sort of comfort in letting go and allowing him to bear the weight of responsibility.
She knew, if she had to, she could get them to the fire as well, but there was freedom in letting him take the lead. Veru trusted Danik, even if the musician didn’t quite trust himself. Perhaps he only guided her out of a sense of chivalry or duty, but she knew better. She knew him. The tsarevna had traveled with him long enough to know that he was equally happy allowing others to take charge. Danik wasn’t a glory hound, that was certain.
“You... you trust this man, I take it?” Danik asked. “Is he your brother, or a husband perhaps?”
Veru stared at the side of Danik’s head in the darkness, studying his profile by moonlight, wondering why he asked. As he waited for her answer, his fingers squeezed hers as if he were worrying a knot, anxious and tense.
“Yes,” she said softly. “I trust this man. And no. He’s not my husband or my brother. He’s a friend. Your friend, actually. He’s a priest.”
“Oh, a priest. That makes sense.”
Tension melted away from his shoulders. “Still. Stay behind me. We don’t know if all is well or if he’s alone.”
The pair crouched behind a copse of bushes, trying to make out the camp near the fire. It had taken them the better part of an hour after moonrise to find the camp. Once there, they finally spotted a lone man and studied his movements, watching him feed sticks into the crackling flames. The man hummed a little song as he worked, then sat back and rubbed his hands together.
“That’s not him,” Veru hissed quietly.
“No. He’s not the one I met before,” Danik admitted.
“Are you sure?” Veru asked. “You know you can’t remember well.”
“The man I met before was younger. At least I think he was.”
“You two are welcome to come over and warm yourselves,” the man by the fire said, keeping his back turned to them. “I promise I mean you no harm.”
Danik and Veru glanced at one another, and though Veru meant to caution him and hold him back, Danik just shrugged and stepped out of the bushes, saying, “Thank you for your kind offer. I’m afraid we have nothing to trade. We’re strangers in this land who just stumbled into one another.”
“I’m new to this land myself. But I did manage to make some tea, and I do have some meager provisions to share, if you’d like.”
“I’m not sure I enjoy tea anymore,” Veru said, finally emerging from the shadows.
The man laughed, and Veru liked it. There was something about him that put her immediately at ease. She didn’t trust it. Circling the fire, she kept the flames between herself and the stranger, attempting to tug Danik close to her. He followed her amiably enough but didn’t have a natural sense of danger like she did.
Perching on a log, Veru studied the man. His hair was short and white, and his accent was like nothing she’d ever heard before. He stumbled over his words often and paused frequently as if searching for just the right word.
He handed her a steaming mug. It smelled sweet and warm, and there was something different floating on top.
“It’s called lemon,” the man said. “They don’t grow where you’re from. But I think you’ll like it.”
“It’s good,” she admitted, not tasting it at all, then closed her eyes and cursed under her breath as Danik gulped down his entire cup in three great swallows, then reached for her cup. She’d have to keep a careful eye on him. “But how do you know where I’m from?” she asked the stranger.
“I know a lot about you. I’ve been watching the two of you for some time. I... I’m something of a guide for those with a tiger nature, you see.”
