Chapter 1 #2
Was that a quickening of his own breathing she heard, or was he forgetting again? “But isn’t he a hunter?” she questioned.
“Yes. But his father was a bootmaker. I apprenticed with him for a time. He always brought my family the best sinews to make strings for our instruments.”
Danik began to hum but paused when he reached the top of her dress, his fingertips resting for just a moment at the place the fabric kissed her bare skin.
She could feel the fine hairs along the base of her scalp rise as if trying to reach out and touch him.
Veru froze in place, wishing for the first time in her life that a man would draw her closer.
She longed to feel Danik wrap his arms around her waist and pull her body tightly against his, or press his lips against her neck, but just as she wished it, he was gone and walking beside her again, once more her good-natured friend.
Peeking at him from the corner of her eye, Veru could see no reflection of the inner struggle that she felt at being near him in her human form.
He was still humming—a sweet, happy tune that turned into a whistle—but she couldn’t tell by his posture or his eyes if he remembered their recent encounter.
Perhaps he’d already forgotten it. That was probably for the best. If she knew what was good for her, she’d forget it too.
What a curse it was, feeling an unfulfilled desire and being unable to act upon it. She suddenly felt great pity for all the men who had looked at her with lovelorn expressions over the years and her exploitation of them. It was a cruel thing she had done.
They walked for what seemed like an hour before they finally came across a small stream.
Stopping, they drank deeply, and Danik agreed that it would be wise to stay close to the source of water to continue searching for her friend.
Veru was surprised that he remembered they were looking for someone.
Perhaps the humming helped. Danik told her that not only would they need the water, but it was logical to assume that her friend would want to stay close to it as well.
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, paws can 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.”
Danik spluttered his tea.
“There now, son. Don’t waste it. It’s a good brew.” Leaning over, the man refilled Danik’s cup and gestured that Veru should commence drinking her own. She sipped carefully and found the beverage delightful. Still suspicious, but delightful.
“So you’re saying she’s a tiger?” Danik asked, confused.
“Oh yes. Indeed she is. Not at the moment, of course.”
“Not at all, apparently,” Veru countered.
“Really?” the man said. “That’s terribly interesting. You’re saying you can’t even change for a short time?”
Veru shook her head. “Not at all.”
“And do you possess the tiger’s abilities?”
“Not as far as I can tell.”
“How fascinating.”
Danik spoke up. “I don’t understand. What’s fascinating? Who are you, and what’s going on?”
“Ah yes.” The man set down his own cup on a nearby rock. When he leaned over, Veru noticed an amulet hanging around his neck. It looked similar to her own, but not quite. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Anik Kadam.”
“You’re a tiger too!” Veru exclaimed.
The man looked at her quizzically. “Why would you assume so?”
“The charm you wear. It’s like ours.”
“Hmm. Very astute.”
Anik pulled the charm out to show them. “Do you see the writing on the edge?”
“Yes,” they echoed, peering at it in the firelight. “It’s a different language,” Veru said.
“Exactly. This charm was loaned to me. I wear it for safekeeping and for protection, but the tiger remains with the owner.”
“Then there are tigers in your part of the world as well?”
The man paused. “Yes. I suppose that is the best explanation for the moment.”
Veru snapped her fingers. “It’s the scroll prophecy. It said something about learning from our elders.”
“Right. Well, I suppose you could call me an elder, though technically speaking—”
Veru stretched out her legs, crossing them at the ankles, and interrupted the man.
“So teach us. What do we need to do to get out of here, get home, and get rid of the tigers permanently? That is why we’re here, right?
” She jerked her thumb at Danik. “Also, he needs his memory back. He must’ve been thumped on the head during the transition. He has no idea what’s going on.”
“I can speak for myself, you know,” Danik groused.
Anik Kadam held up his hands. “Keep in mind, I am here as your guide, not as your fix-it man. I’m not the Wizard of Oz, young lady, here to give him a brain and you a trip home to Kansas.
You young people have a set number of tasks ahead of you.
How—or if—you complete your journey will determine the course of your life.
This is true of all of us, of course. In your case, the process is simply accelerated.
Trust me when I say it’s for your own good.
It’s no small thing either. And definitely not something you want to face on an empty stomach or without a good night’s rest. I insist. Questions will wait.
I’ll set you on your path in the morning.
The others are being told the same thing. ”
“Hold on. You know where the others are?”
“Yes. We are the ones who created this dream, after all.”