Page 23 of Tiger's Trek
Zakhar crouched down to look at her feet. There were blisters on her delicate arches. That just wouldn’t do. He frowned and removed the bag from his back.
“Here,” he said. “There are extra changes of clothing in the bag. I saw leggings and tunics, and there’s a pair of woolen socks and soft-soled boots. See if those will fit.”
Stacia smiled up at him. “Wouldn’t you prefer to change out of your priest’s robes?”
He shrugged. “No. They help me remember my vows.”
“Are you saying you forget?”
Heat crept up his neck. “Not forget, exactly. Let’s just say all of us are tempted on occasion. My robes are simply another layer of protection. Like your armor in battle. We all fight our enemies in different ways.”
“I suppose we do.”
He pulled out the boots, clothing, and socks, and handed them to her. “There’s a thick copse of trees over there. It would be a good place to change. I’ll stay here with Iriko.”
“Okay. Thanks again, Zakhar.”
“You’re welcome, Tsarev—I mean, Stacia.”
He watched her disappear and then turned around, so his back was to the trees. He was going to say something to Iriko to make certain the tiger would avert his eyes as well, but then he remembered the tiger was blind, so it didn’t matter which direction he was looking.
Just then the tiger made a chuffing sort of noise, and he looked over at the huge gray beast with black stripes. He heard Stacia yell out, “Well, can’t you choosenotto look?”
Zakhar’s eyes widened.
She continued, “Fine! I’ll closemyeyes, but it makes it hard to get dressed, you know.”
When the tsarevna emerged, she bumped the tiger’s shoulder with her hip. “Ever heard of privacy? Can’t you switch to looking out of Zakhar’s eyes for a while?” There was a pause. “Well, that’s a bit inconvenient then, isn’t it?”
She sighed in resignation, then said, “Come on, Zakhar. Let’s go. Oh, and Iriko has something he’d like to confess, by the way.”
“He does?”
“Yes, you do,” she said with irritation. “Youshouldfeel embarrassed.”
Zakhar stared at the tiger, wondering what he would do or feel if he’d been in that position.
“Of course it’s a sin. Don’t you think it’s a sin, Father?”
“Uh, technically, I’m not a?—”
Stacia interrupted him, clearly still lecturing Iriko. “What do you mean you’re not sorry? Well, if a priest can’t make you sorry, and God can’t do it, then I’ll sure as hell give it a try!”
Zakhar held up his hands. “Okay now. I think this is getting?—”
“You name the place and the weapon, whiskers. You want to go fang to fang and claw to claw? Fine! You think you can best me as a human? I don’t think so.”
“You know there’s a great scripture about turning the other cheek,” Zakhar began, trying to make peace.
Stacia finally turned to him, her face livid. “What do you think I’m so angry about? He was spying on my barecheeks. That’s the whole problem, isn’t it?”
Spluttering, his own cheeks turning apple red, Zakhar said, “I’m not... Correct me if I’m wrong, but wouldn’t you have had to turn completely around for him to?—”
Stacia waved a hand. “Never mind. It was a metaphor.”
“Right. Well, that’s not exactly how metaphors?—”
“Are you trying to pick a fight too? Because I’m happy to take both of you on at the same time.”
