Tiger’s Tale (The Tiger’s Curse #1)

11. Dig a Hole for Someone Else and You May Fall In

11

DIG A HOLE FOR SOMEONE ELSE AND YOU MAY FALL IN

Veru didn’t quite understand what had happened. One moment she was moving alongside her sister and the invisible being her friend had become, thanks to his mysterious power, her mind transfixed as the world shifted around her, and the next moment the ground fell out from beneath her. The hum of magic and the bubble of warmth that had encapsulated her burst, and she was plummeted into a dark, fetid den where the musky earth surrounded her on all four sides.

Panic set in as she bumped her nose against one wall and another. The thought came that she had been buried alive. She roared grievously for her sister again and again, but she couldn't hear or smell evidence of her. A rotten kill assailed her nostrils, though, setting off pangs of hunger like she’d never felt before in her life. Weak starlight shone down from above, and she realized she must have fallen into some sort of pit.

Gingerly, she stood on her hind legs, trying to reach the surface, but it was far too high for her to jump. Think, think, Veru , she lectured herself as she paced from one wall to another, unwilling to explore the dark depths at the back. The fragrant odor drifted down again when the wind rustled the long tree branches above, and peering into the darkness, she could just make out an object hanging over the center of the pit, far above her head.

It’s an animal trap! she thought. Now, how do I get out of it? Baring her teeth and wrinkling her nose so her whiskers stood on end, she sneezed, thinking she’d been lucky there hadn’t been another large predator caught in the pit with her. She could still smell the lingering stench of fear and the stink of old urine and droppings, but she couldn’t catch more than a haunting trace of blood, and there wasn’t the telltale scent of death she expected.

After their first kill, it was a shock to Veru that the animal transition from life to death was now a tangible thing. She could not only smell it but sense and taste it. It left a bitter tang on the back of her tongue. Never again would she take the life of an animal for granted. Though she knew it was necessary, that didn’t mean she couldn’t be more aware. More grateful. Even if her time as a tiger was transitory, the uniqueness of natural life was something she’d remember forever.

Carefully, she began exploring the dirt walls, looking for any place in which to dig her claws or something to grab on to and hoist her body up and over the side. For the first time, she cursed the fact that her body was so large and powerful. If she’d been smaller, say a normal-sized cat or even a mouse, climbing up a wall would have been simple. Since she’d been changed into a tiger, she enjoyed the fact that her body was finally a match for her mind.

Veru had always been envious of her sister. Stacia was tall and strong and able, and the men under her command never looked at her with lovesick cow eyes or forced her to stand back in battle, thinking her too soft or small or in need of protection. Her sister and most of the people in the empire believed that beauty was something laudable, but Veru disagreed. Beauty wasn’t earned. It just was or wasn’t. Their mother understood. She had suffered with the same impediment. But it was her mother who taught her to use it for her own purposes.

She did, and Veru could see how it benefited her family and aided her in spy work and diplomacy on occasion, but secretly, she despised herself for doing so. When she did agree to do such a thing, she felt shameful. Yes, there were times when it was necessary to play at being unscrupulous, or deceptive, or to mislead an opponent and win through subterfuge, but Veru wanted to beat her enemies with wit and intelligence, not by having them swoon at her feet or simply by having turned them into babbling idiots. Playing a vixen was not noble or proper to her way of thinking. As a soldier, she could at least hide behind her armor and be appreciated for her knife skills instead of her figure. Men feared her rather than fawned over her then.

It was one reason she had no interest in men. Not that she didn’t like men. She did. But when a man looked at her with interest, it was never for her mind. If at any time she thought a man could actually see her and not just her body or her face or her hair, and like the woman beneath, then she might, just might, be interested. It was one reason she liked Nik. He never treated her like a fragile creature.

Oh, Veru knew he had feelings for her, but he’d never pressed her about it, at least not until the recent unpleasantness. It didn’t make sense. Nik had always been observant. Too observant sometimes. He knew her weaknesses as well as her strengths. He’d always been possessive, but it never bothered her before. Now, if she wasn’t in tiger form, she wouldn’t know what to say to him, how to act. She didn’t for a second believe he was the son of the monk or magician or whatever that man pretended to be. But she knew Nik would never hurt her either.

Like her, Nik said he’d always dreamed of the two of them heading off into the world together, leading the Guard. Stacia wanted to command the military, too, but the two sisters wanted the job for very different reasons. Veru feared being consigned to the palace, ending up the prized pet plaything for some boorish foreign prince. Her only job that of producing the next heir to inherit the throne.

As the years passed and her looks declined, so would her influence and power, until one day she’d find herself locked away somewhere, unable to help anyone, not even herself. She’d end up a prisoner, used only for her name, her womb, and the inheritance she brought to another who kept her securely beneath his thumb until she passed from this life unloved, old, an impostor who’d once had a dream.

While it was true that their parents had shared responsibility equally and, thanks to their mother’s influence and their father’s open-mindedness, had advanced women’s rights as well as the rights of the indigenous peoples in the empire further than in any of the neighboring kingdoms or principalities, that did not mean it had been easy or that there weren’t still many fixated on the “old ways” who wished to keep women consigned to the home. Never mind that over hundreds of years the majority of peaceful negotiations had women involved.

It wasn’t that Veru didn’t respect the work her mother and father had done or that she didn’t want to continue it. The truth was, Veru was afraid. She didn’t feel as confident with the counselors staring at her bosom or even her face as her mother had been. Even if she had something important to say, would they even listen? Whereas, on the battlefield, she could cover her body with armor, hide her face with a helmet, and let her knives do her speaking.

If she was lucky enough, all it would take would be one or two good blows to mar her pretty face, and then it would no longer matter. She could picture it now, a wicked scar across her eye and down her cheek to her lip, puckering her face enough so all could still recognize her but no longer desire her. Instead of lust-filled expressions, she’d see awestruck loyalty and dedicated patriotism. For who wouldn’t follow the once lovely tsarevna into battle, whether that be in war or in negotiations?

She’d command their full attention then. No one would stare at her body anymore. They’d be too busy looking at her scar. In it, they’d see her perseverance, her unwavering strength, and her commitment to her people and the empire. At that point she could marry and know the man who sought her hand saw her and desired her for who she really was, not for the package.

Dirt rained down on Veru’s head. She sneezed again and shook it off, roaring loudly in protest. What did it matter? There was probably not even a palace left to run. Perhaps not even an empire. She’d thought that by them leaving they might have drawn away the attention of the monk and his minions, but maybe not. They’d seen no sign of him. Maybe he’d stayed to ravage the Guard and the servants. At least it was nearing winter, and most of the villagers had returned to their countryside homes for the season. It might even take months for any of them to notice anything was amiss if the snow cut off the roads. They never held any major gatherings in the winter months.

Veru huffed softly. Why is it taking so long for Stacia and Nik to notice I’m missing? Her tiger stomach rolled and grumbled. Never in her life had she felt so hungry. Even the rancid meat overhead was starting to smell appealing.

Giving up on wall number two, she felt with her paw along the dark edge until she came upon wall number three. Aligning her body with the wall, she looked above, searching for a good place to try to jump. Backing up, her back paw felt a heavy piece of metal buried in the soft earth. What’s that? she wondered, excited that she might have discovered something she might be able to use, and was about to turn around to investigate when her paw brushed across something rough—a rope.

There was a twang, and a net collapsed over her head, frightening her, and she backed away quickly, stepping over the metal ring. Hearing a click and a snap, Veru realized too late what she’d done. The trap closed around her back leg with a clang, and she screamed a roar and collapsed when she heard the sound of her hind leg crack as the bone shattered. The sharp metal teeth bit into her ankle, and the pain almost caused her to black out. Veru could smell her own blood weeping and heard it plop to the earth in steady droplets.

Suddenly, she was very sympathetic to the deer she and Stacia had killed. Her leg throbbed in waves of agony, and the net prevented her from seeing or accessing the wound. Now she understood the tendency for trapped wolves to chew off their own legs. All she could think about was freeing herself, of ending the pain.

Any minor movement proved to her that the steel trap was embedded deep into the ground. There would be no pulling it free. If there had been any hope for her to escape the pit before, there was certainly no chance now, not with the heavy trap attached to her back leg. Veru would have needed her powerful back legs to propel herself up and out of the pit. An injured back leg would make that impossible. She’d have to wait for rescue.

She laid there, whimpering quietly, and tried to quell the strong urge to contort her body so as to lick and chew on the wound or bite and work on the trap itself. Then, as the moments passed, she felt her limb healing itself. The pain lessened. The bone knit itself back together as best as it could with the trap still embedded in the leg. At least it was more bearable than it had been before.

Hours passed. Then morning broke. All day she laid there waiting for Nik and her sister to find her, but they never came. She was so thirsty. Flies buzzed overhead, attracted to the old piece of meat dangling above. Veru estimated the meat couldn’t have been there more than a week.

She panted, her tongue swelling in her mouth. The sun was warm enough to cause some snowmelt, and rivulets of water streamed down the hard-packed dirt walls. Veru licked the wet puddles until they froze again at dusk, then laid on her side and slept. Her dreams were dark and nightmarish. In them, her mother warned her over and over not to trust anyone, but her mother was gone, wasn’t she?

Waking just before dawn, Veru blinked and remained motionless, barely breathing. There was a sound nearby. Footsteps. Someone walking through the brush. The desire to cry out to her sister, to Nik, was almost desperate, but instinct cautioned her to be quiet. A new scent tickled her nose. It was someone she’d never smelled before. A man. He carried with him the scents of other animals—of death. Panic set in, making her heart race and her muscles warm. Veru’s sharp claws dug into the soft earth, kneading the soil. She was ready to pounce on whoever tried to harm her.

With wide eyes, she turned her head quietly back and forth, watching the rim of the pit, waiting to see who would appear and look down. Her lips were peeled back in a silent snarl with fangs bared. Though she didn’t relish taking the life of a man, Veru reasoned that the world could do with one less hunter.

Her own breath felt hot as it bathed her face. Where is Stacia? Why haven’t they found me by now? Don’t they know I’m in danger? Whatever was going on with Nik and Stacia, it was too late for them to help her; Veru was going to have to save herself, hurt leg and all.

The footsteps came closer. She heard humming. A snarl erupted from her throat. Veru couldn’t stop it. The humming abruptly stopped, as did the footsteps. Good. Maybe she’d scared whoever he was away.

Then she heard a too-cheerful voice. “Well, hello down there. Be with you in a moment. Just need to adjust a few things up top first, if you don’t mind.”

There was some sawing and hammering and more stomping. Whoever the man was, he certainly wasn’t making any attempt to be silent. Veru’s ears pricked again and again, listening to his strange sounds, trying to figure out just what he was up to at the top of the pit. Her imagination ran wild.

Was he fashioning a spear with which to kill her? Perhaps he was making a cage in which to carry her off. If she could have laughed at that one, she would have. She heard no evidence of a horse or a cart, and Veru imagined she weighed twice as much as any of her armored soldiers. If he did want to capture her alive, it would be a difficult feat, that was certain. Then again, if he killed her and just took her fur, it would weigh much less. I’m not going to make it easy on him , she thought.

Veru heard his voice again. “Now then... what have we here?”

At first she couldn’t see his face. The sun was in just the right spot to halo the back of his head, darkening his features. Crouching down, he set his bag down beside him and leaned over to see into the shadows of the pit. Veru snarled viciously in response but was surprised to see not the middle-aged hunter she expected but a younger man, very near her own age.

Bunching her injured leg beneath her, Veru instinctively pounced, clawing with her front legs desperately against the dirt wall, trying to catch the young man’s bag strap that dangled over the edge. She hoped, at the very least, her efforts would serve to give him warning that she was not to be trifled with, but she collapsed in a heap. As a result, the trap tore open her skin, reinjuring her.

The young man held out his hands, obviously upset by the display. “Hush now, moya krasivaya koshechka. I did not expect to catch you. I’ve been hired to trap wolves. Never would I hunt one of your kind.” He rubbed a hand across his cheek, and Veru could hear the light scrape of stubble against his flesh, though his beard was so pale she could not see any hair on his face.

Slipping his hand up to his forehead, he removed his woven hat, and dark blond hair fell across his face. It was longer on top and short on the sides. The nose was long and aquiline, the lips full and brooding. By men’s standards, he was handsome, with high cheekbones, a square chin, and wide blue eyes, but Veru was unaffected by such things.

She’d learned long ago never to let a handsome man or a winning smile turn her head. More than anyone else, she knew better than to judge someone based on their outward appearance. Smoothing his dark blond hair back, he affixed his cap and bit his lower lip. “I must confess—I’m not quite sure what to do with you. If I let you out, you’re likely to kill me. Even if you didn’t, and I somehow got you out of that trap, it’s going to be difficult for you to hunt.”

Deciding she’d better help the young man figure out he needed to save her, Veru did her best to sit still and be quiet. She huffed quietly in response to his musings.

“I suppose the least I can do is get that net off.”

For a moment he stepped away and then returned with a long staff with a hook on the end. Very carefully, he lowered it next to Veru, and within a few tries had freed her from the net. Once he did, he whistled and sat cross-legged atop the pit. “I was right. You’re a beauty. Never seen the like of you before. All gold and white. What a price your fur would fetch.”

Veru roared softly.

He held up a hand. “I’m not saying I would. It’s just nice to think about the money once in a while, you know? Besides, I could never live with myself for doing it. Wolves are one thing, but a beauty like you is rare. My guilt is already bad enough I have to haul myself into a town with a church once a month for confession.”

After hearing the chuffing sound coming from below, the young man laughed. Veru liked the sound. His laugh was relaxed. Soothing. He was at ease with himself in a way that made her jealous. Not jealous like she felt around Stacia, but an admiring sort of feeling that left her wanting to figure him out. To emulate him in a way so she could acquire the same sort of acceptance within herself.

“Now I know what you’re thinking. What would an upstanding character such as me have to confess to a member of the church?” Leaning over, he grinned. “It’s a mystery, isn’t it?”

His grin fell away, and he quickly stood. “Let’s get you some water, girl. I’m certain you’re parched.”

As he figured out how to get water down to her, he continued talking. Veru found she enjoyed listening to him babble. “I’m not a drinking man, so get that vice right out of your head. Nor am I cruel to women or children. Skirt-chasing isn’t my thing. The truth is, I don’t think there’s a woman out there who’d take to my lifestyle. I like the outdoors far too much. There’s too much to do and see and explore out here. I hate farming and the idea of being trapped in a small house for the rest of my life...”

He’d been carving a large piece of tree bark into a bowl of sorts when he paused. “Oh... excuse me for being indelicate. I forgot that here you are trapped in a pit while I’m up here free as a bird complaining about being stuck in a house somewhere. Where are my manners? If you’ll forgive me, I’ll try not to talk so much and hurry up.”

Finishing his makeshift tree bark bowl, he dropped it down into the pit, and luckily it landed with the bowl angled up. It took a few tries, but eventually he was able to fill it at least halfway with water. Veru lapped greedily, draining it within one moment, and he refilled it with his remaining supply and finished his tale.

“As I was saying, the reason I have to attend confession is one you might have guessed. It has to do with my profession. I’m a trapper by trade—specializing in fox, mink, and sable. Occasionally, I accept contracts offered by area locals and create larger traps, such as the one you currently find yourself in. I know most trappers wouldn’t be bothered by their work, but I can’t help it.”

He looked down at Veru as she lapped at the wooden bowl, trying to catch the last few drops of water. Giving up, she sat on her haunches and, tilting her head, stared back. Their eyes locked.

“That’s the thing, isn’t it?” he said in almost a whisper, his beautiful blue eyes bright with unshed tears. “When you’ve spent time with God’s creatures, you learn they have souls. And what makes their souls less important than mine?”

He sniffled, then cleared his throat. “So now you know my secret, don’t you, my beauty?”

Clapping his gloved hands against each other to warm them, he glanced at the sun and at her, then said, “Well, then. I’m going to gather up some supplies for the two of us and try to suss out a plan for you. I shouldn’t be gone for more than a half a day. There are just a few supplies I might be needing. And I ought to check a few traps to see if I can snatch up some dinner for the two of us. Best rest up in the meantime, my kotenok.”

Veru listened until she couldn’t hear him anymore, and then she finally laid down, putting her head on her paws. As she waited for him to return, she was surprised to realize that not only had she not thought of Stacia or Nik the whole time she’d been with the young man but she hadn’t even thought of her wound.