Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
The next week passed in a blur, a good one.
Phoenix spent his days either practising to shift under Farah’s guidance or intentionally letting Zafira injure him so he could try and control the shift at least from the other direction.
He repeatedly failed. The only time he didn’t require injury to shift happened when he successfully hunted.
Soon as he tasted blood, he was spitting it out on the ground, human, naked, and annoyed. It didn’t help Zafira mocked him.
“Weak,” she called him. “Real tiger like blood.” Problem being his human sensibilities struggled with the feral aspect of his feline.
It led to him deciding to try the fasting method to see if it would work for him. All it did was make him hangry.
Meditating as a tiger to try and morph into a man led to him napping—which at least left him energized for his nights with Nadirah.
She was the one bright spot to counter his frustration.
Her acceptance of him as a therianthrope, a hunted man, and as a lover had him feeling more content than he’d ever imagined.
While he knew their time in the hidden village wouldn’t last forever—because he’d discovered it was more of a transient place where the harimau could come to be themselves away from the modern world—he cherished each and every day, especially since he didn’t have to constantly watch his back and worry that the general or his lackeys would catch up to him.
Initially, Nadirah had been antsy about them staying, worried about her grandmother, until Farah let her know that someone had managed to get in contact with her and provided an update.
Nenek had moved in with her sister, a sobering reminder that Phoenix’s arrival in their life had caused them to lose everything.
According to the person who managed to speak with Nenek, she had been happy to know Nadirah remained safe, even if they couldn’t speak—no cell phones allowed in the sanctuary.
Smart, because then no one could be traced.
While Phoenix still hadn’t the slightest clue as to their location, Nadirah had a theory, which she whispered to him one night.
“I believe we’re in the Royal Tiger Reserve.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Because it makes sense. Where else could tigers roam freely without fear of poachers?”
“But what about the village? I highly doubt they’d allow people to build and live here.”
“Unless those running the reserve are allies to the harimau?” she’d countered.
An interesting theory.
When they’d been there a month, with him still struggling to make progress, Johan, who’d disappeared for several weeks, returned.
Seeing the man, Phoenix, accompanied by Nadirah to help translate, beelined for Johan so he could ask something that had been bothering him.
“That tablet we found in the ruin, why was it so important?”
“It’s part of our history.” Johan looked thoughtful as he added more, which Nadirah translated.
“It didn’t hold any secrets. The stories of the harimau are well known.
However, it provides a reminder of how well they’ve endured and thrived.
A piece of their past that belongs to them and no one else. ”
“So it wasn’t a map?”
Johan shook his head.
“What of that poem in the museum that claimed to know how to find the harimau?”
The question made Johan laugh. Nadirah translated, “He says you speak of the False Ballad. It is unsure how it came about, although the prevailing theory is a harimau was most likely caught by people who wanted them to reveal their secrets and location. They created a poem with plausible clues detailing the supposed location. It became famous when it was found along with some human remains showing signs of a tiger attack.”
“In other words, everything I did up until meeting you was useless. If you’d not come across me, I’d still be aimlessly searching,” Phoenix surmised.
Johan offered a sly smile. “We’re good hiding.”
“In plain sight, obviously. No one lives here full time,” Phoenix pointed out. Faces kept coming and going with only a few constants. Farah and a few other older harimau appeared to be the only ones living permanently in the village.
Nadirah translated, “The children require education. Jobs are needed so they can pay for the things the jungle does not provide. This place is where they come when the tiger needs to escape and enjoy freedom.”
“Speaking of freedom, how long are you planning to keep us here?” Phoenix asked. Not that he was in a rush to leave; more worried he’d find himself abruptly out in the world no further ahead.
“You stay until we trust you.”
“And how do I prove that you can?”
At that query, Johan shrugged.
The day after that conversation, Nadirah woke and immediately threw herself out of the tree house. The sound of retching followed.
Phoenix didn’t bother to put on clothes as he quickly followed to rub her back and hold back her hair.
Crouched on the small platform outside their nest, she groaned. “I think last night’s fish didn’t agree with me.”
That didn’t seem likely, as they’d both eaten the same thing. “Perhaps you’ve caught a bug.”
From the ground, Farah called up to them. “Are you okay?”
“Nadirah’s sick,” he stated. “I’m going to put her back to bed.”
“No,” Nadirah weakly protested as he led her back inside. “I was supposed to go with you to the river today.” They’d planned a picnic and a swim.
“We’ll go when you’re feeling better.”
“I’m sorry,” an apology muttered as she lay back on their stuffed mattress.
“Don’t be. Feel better,” he murmured before leaving to fetch her some watered-down juice and dry biscuits. Upon his return, he found her sleeping, so he left her alone while he fetched buckets of water to clean the vomit before it attracted insects or creatures.
Farah eyed the sluiced ground then upwards. “No one else is sick.”
“Maybe because we’re harimau.” He no longer found it odd how easily that word fell from his lips. Much easier than the therianthrope mouthful.
“Possibly,” Farah mused. Then she snapped her attention to him. “No sitting here and moping. You should go do something.”
“Not moping, but I would like to be close, in case she needs something.”
“I will take care of Nadirah while you join Johan on his hunt.”
“Hunt for what?”
“Poachers,” she spat. “One of the cubs got caught in a snare yesterday. Hence why some will go out and scour the woods to remove any traps they find, while our strongest seek those responsible.”
He glanced upward at the treehouse.
Farah put a hand on his arm. “She will be fine in my care, and this will be a good way to show Johan and others that you are committed to protecting the harimau.”
In other words, go be a man, er, tiger.
They set out shortly, not requiring equipment, since they would be going as felines.
When Phoenix held out his arms for an injurious blow, Zafira rolled her eyes, no longer gloating at the way she had to injure him to shift.
They’d reached a grudging respect for each other over the past few weeks, although he didn’t doubt she’d kill him in a heartbeat if she thought he’d fucked them over.
A literal ambush of tigers set off into the jungle, splitting off into a cordon that would cover more ground—and catch more scents.
Now that he no longer sought a way to rid himself of the tiger, he could actually admit to feeling enjoyment as he stalked the jungle on four paws.
This shape didn’t just feel stronger and more agile; it actually was.
He could leap or climb trees with ease. Sift smells and identify everything around him.
Hear the huff of breath from even the smallest of rodents.
All things that made a tiger an excellent hunter.
The only thing that bothered? The fact they sought human prey.
As a former soldier, who had been in active combat situations, he’d taken lives.
Intentionally, he should add. It wasn’t the killing aspect that bothered, but more the personal nature of it.
Firing a bullet gave a layer of separation from the act.
Sinking his teeth and claws, though? For some reason, his psyche saw it as totally different.
Then again, was it any worse than beating someone with his fists or trying to choke them out or snap their neck?
He’d been taught how, even if he’d never had to use those skills.
The military trained him to kill. A tiger, by its very nature, was a predator.
Now if only he could reconcile those two sides.
A few hours into the hunt—and four destroyed traps later—they caught wind of the intruders. Like, literally smelled them, the reek of body odor distinctive on the slight breeze that rustled leaves.
Hearing the crunch of approaching steps, Phoenix quickly climbed a tree and perched to keep watch.
Into his view came a man, his pock-marked features set in a scowl, a rifle slung over his shoulder, wearing sweat-stained clothing. From his hand hung a few of the snares they’d been shredding. Before Phoenix could act, he caught a fleeting glimpse of orange. A tiger already stalked the poacher.
Emerging from the bushes, the feline slunk, belly low to the ground, and Phoenix recognized Johan. Something must have alerted the poacher because he swiftly turned while pulling a machete from a sheath by his hip.
It caused Johan to pause and assess his next move.
A move complicated by the second poacher that snuck past the tree holding Phoenix, his presence unnoticed since he’d made his approach downwind.
One armed man Johan could handle, but two?
This would be a great opportunity to show the ambush that Phoenix could be trusted to protect the harimau.
Lying still on his branch, Phoenix waited for his chance.
It came when the second poacher knelt to aim his rifle.
Since Phoenix had the advantage of height, he dropped from the tree, but rather than flatten the guy, he hit the ground.
The fucker must have sensed the danger since he threw himself to the side.
Even worse, he swung the barrel of that gun in Phoenix’s direction.
Rather than wait for the shot, Phoenix sprang, hitting the guy and knocking him back to the ground. The rifle went off, but the bullet went astray. Bullet, not a sleeping dart. This fucker came with the intention of killing tigers.
No more.
Phoenix clamped down hard, feeling his incisors penetrate flesh, spilling blood and crunching the bones in the poacher’s neck, ending the threat to the harimau.
For once, he felt good about a kill. The cubs would be safe.
Farah, and everyone else he’d gotten to know, wouldn’t have to worry.
As those thoughts went through his mind, he realized something astonishing.
I’m a tiger still.
He’d done it. Killed a man, with his teeth, tasted blood, but didn’t shift.
Bang.
The bullet hit him hard, and so did the pain. Phoenix abruptly changed shape, instantly healing and causing a third sneaky bastard of a poacher to exclaim in Malaysian. Probably something along the lines of, “holy shit.”
Before the man could recover from his shock, Johan, his muzzle still bloody from his first interloper, took him down, and the jungle was safer for it.
Phoenix stood in all his nakedness and grimaced not in pain but because of the short-lived exultation of his success.
“You bite and stay tiger.” A transformed Johan sounded proud as he slapped Phoenix on the back.
“Yeah.” He’d at least succeeded in one respect. But… “I didn’t manage to hold on to it when he shot me.”
“Soon.” Johan sounded confident, and Phoenix could only hope he was right. It would be useful to not turn into a naked man with only his fists in the midst of a fight with claws.
They headed back for the village, him on two legs, Johan on a more useful four. Phoenix immediately went to the hut to check on Nadirah, only to find her gone. He threw on his shorts before emerging with a frown. Upon seeing Zafira, he asked, “Do you know where Nadirah is?”
“Gone. See doctor with Farah.”
“Did she get worse while I was gone?”
Zafira shrugged.
“How long ago did they leave?”
At that query, Zafira frowned, the language barrier not allowing her to understand.
A shrill howler monkey cry erupted in the distance, which then repeated, widening Zafira’s eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“People come.”
Judging by her look of panic and the way she began waving her arms and barking at the children, she didn’t mean harimau.
Johan emerged from a tree hut, naked, of course. He leaped to the ground and glanced at Phoenix. “Intruder. Hide.”
Almost everyone scattered. The women, children, and elderly headed into the jungle, but Johan and anyone capable of fighting, including Phoenix, remained.
Those who could changed into tigers before climbing the trees to lurk.
Phoenix didn’t have time to ask one of them to claw him.
He chose to instead climb into the tree holding his hut and hunched on a limb, much like a vulture, watching the path that led into the village.
It didn’t take long before he heard people approaching.
Lots of them.
Hard-looking men in mismatched camo stomped into the clearing, more than a dozen, armed to the teeth and attentive to their surroundings.
Several of them broke off from the main group and took up positions on their knees facing the forest, ready to shoot.
The others formed a square that aimed at the treetops.
An army of poachers?
That unlikely thought quickly fled as Phoenix saw who arrived next.
Nadirah and Farah shuffled into the village, their hands bound behind their backs, obvious captives. Worse than the sight of them? The man who marched behind holding a gun to their heads.
General fucking Davidson.