Tiger's Curse (11 page)

That was much better, but then I imagined animals creeping up behind me. Just as I began to roll onto my back, Ren lay down right next to me, snuggled his back against mine, and began to purr.

Grateful, I wiped the tears off my cheeks and was able to tune out the night sounds by listening to Ren’s purr, which later changed into deep, rhythmic breathing. I inched a little closer to his back, surprised to find that I could sleep in the jungle after all.

A bright ray of sun hit my closed eyelids, and I slowly cracked them open. Not remembering where I was for a minute, I stretched my arms up over my head, only to cringe in pain as my back rubbed against the hard ground. I also felt a heavy weight on my leg. I looked down to see Ren, eyes squeezed tightly shut in sleep, with his head and one paw draped over my leg.

I whispered, “Ren. Wake up. My leg is asleep.”

He didn’t budge.

I sat up and shoved his body lightly. “Come on, Ren. Move!”

He growled softly but stayed put.

“Ren! I mean it!
Mooove!
” I shook my leg and shoved him harder.

He finally blinked open his eyes, yawned a giant, toothy tiger yawn, and then rolled off my leg and onto his side.

Standing up, I shook out my quilt, folded it, and tucked it into the bag. I also stamped out the ashes from the fire to make sure nothing was still burning.

“Just so you know, I
hate
camping,” I complained loudly. “I’m not so much appreciating that there’s no bathroom out here. ‘Nature calls’ while walking in the jungle is on my list of least favorite things. You tigers, and men in general, have it so much easier than us girls.”

I gathered up the empty bottles and wrappers and put them into the pack. The last thing I picked up was the yellow rope.

The tiger just sat there observing me. I decided to give up the pretense that I was the one leading him and stowed the rope away in the pack.

“Okay, Ren. I’m ready. Where are we heading off to today?”

Turning, he stalked off into the jungle again. He weaved his way around trees and undergrowth, over rocks and across small streams. He didn’t seem to be in a hurry, and he even stopped for a break every once in a while, as if knowing I needed one. Now that the sun was out, the jungle was becoming quite steamy, so I took off my long-sleeved shirt and tied it back around my waist.

The jungle was very green and had a peppery kind of fragrance, much different than the forests of Oregon. The large deciduous trees were sparse and had graceful, willowy branches. The leaves were an olive-green color rather than the deep greens of the evergreens I was used to. The bark was dark gray and rough to the touch; where cracks formed, the bark peeled away and sloughed off in thin, flaky layers.

Flying squirrels leapt from tree to tree, and we often startled grazing deer. Smelling a tiger, they quickly bounced away on springy legs. I watched Ren to see his reaction, but he ignored them. I noticed another common tree that was more moderate in size and also had a papery bark, but where the bark split on this one, a sticky, gummy resin dripped down the trunk. I leaned against one to pick a pebble out of my shoe and spent the next hour trying to peel the goo off my fingers.

I’d just gotten it off when we weaved through a particularly dense undergrowth of tall grasses and bamboo and sent a flock of colorful birds into flight. I was so startled that I backed into another sap tree and got sticky sap all over my upper arm.

Ren stopped at a small stream. I pulled out a bottle of water and drank it all down. It was nice to have less weight in the backpack, but I was concerned about where I would get water from after my supply ran out. I supposed I could drink from the same stream as Ren, but I would put that off for as long as possible, knowing that my body wouldn’t handle it as well as his.

I sat down on a rock and searched for another energy bar. I ate half of one and gave Ren the other half, plus another one. I knew I could survive on that many calories, but I was pretty sure Ren couldn’t. He’d have to hunt soon.

Opening a pocket of Mr. Kadam’s backpack, I found a compass. I pushed it into the pocket of my jeans. There was still money, the traveling papers, more water bottles, a first aid kit, bug spray, a candle, and a pocketknife, but no cell phone, and my personal cell phone was missing.

Strange. Could Mr. Kadam have known that I would end up in the jungle?
I thought about the man who looked like Mr. Kadam standing by the truck right before it was stolen and wondered aloud, “Did he
want
me to get lost out here?”

Ren wandered over to me and sat down.

“No,” I said, looking into the animal’s blue eyes. “That doesn’t make any sense either. What reason could he possibly have for flying me all the way to India just to get me lost in the jungle? He couldn’t have known you would lead me in here or that I’d follow you. He’s not the type to deceive anyway.”

Ren gaze shifted to the ground as if
he
felt guilty.

“I guess Mr. Kadam is just a really well-prepared Boy Scout.”

After a brief rest, Ren got up again, walked off a few paces, and turned around to wait for me. Complaining, I dragged myself off the rock, and followed along behind him. Pulling out the bug spray, I gave my limbs a good spritz and squirted some on Ren for good measure. I laughed when he wrinkled his nose and a big tiger sneeze shook his body.

“So, Ren, where are we going? You act like you have a destination in mind. Personally, I’d like to get back to civilization. So if you could find us a town, I’d be most appreciative.”

He continued to lead me on a trail that only he could see for the rest of the morning and into the early afternoon.

I checked my compass often and figured out that we were traveling eastward. I was trying to calculate how many miles we’d walked when Ren burrowed between some bushes. I followed him to find a small clearing on the other side.

With great relief, I saw a small hut that sat right in the middle of the clearing. Its curved roof was covered with rows of canes tied close together that draped over the top of the structure like a blanket. Stringy fibers, tied into intricate knots, lashed large bamboo poles together to make walls, and the cracks were thatched with dried grasses and clay.

The hut was surrounded by a barrier of loose stones piled on top of each other to create a short wall about two feet high. The stones were covered in thick, verdant moss. In front of the hut, thin panels of stone were affixed to the wall and were painted with an indecipherable assortment of symbols and shapes. The shelter’s doorway was so tiny that an average-sized person would have to bend over to enter. There was a line of clothing flapping in the wind, and a small flourishing garden was planted on the side of the home.

We approached the rock wall, and just as I was stepping over, Ren leapt over the barrier next to me. “Ren! You scared the stuffing out of me! Make a noise first or something, would you?”

We approached the small hut, and I steeled myself to knock on the tiny door, but then I hesitated, looking at Ren. “We need to do something about you first.” I took the yellow rope out of my backpack and walked over to a tree on the side of the yard. He followed me haltingly. I beckoned him closer. When he finally came close enough, I slipped the rope through his collar and tied the other end to a tree. He didn’t look happy.

“I’m sorry, Ren, but we can’t have you loose. It would scare the family. I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

I began walking over to the small house, but then froze in my tracks when I heard a quiet male voice behind me say, “Is this
really
necessary?”

Turning around slowly, I saw a handsome young man standing directly behind me. He looked young, in his early twenties. He was taller than me by a head and had a strong, well-developed trim body that was clothed in loose white cotton garments. His long-sleeved shirt was untucked and carelessly buttoned, revealing a smooth, well-built golden-bronze chest. His lightweight pants were rolled at the ankles, emphasizing his bare feet. Glossy black hair swept away from his face and curled slightly at the nape of his neck.

His eyes were what riveted me the most. They were my tiger’s eyes, the same deep cobalt blue.

Reaching out a hand, he spoke. “Hello, Kelsey. It’s me, Ren.”

t
he man approached me carefully with his hands splayed out in front of him and repeated, “Kelsey, it’s me, Ren.”

He didn’t appear fearsome, but my body tightened in apprehension nonetheless. Confused, I held my hand out in front of me in a futile attempt to halt his progress. “What? What did you say?”

He came closer, put his hand on his muscled chest, and spoke slowly. “Kelsey, don’t run. I’m Ren. The tiger.”

He turned over his hand to show me Ren’s collar and the yellow rope coiled about his fingers. I looked behind him, and sure enough, the white cat was missing. I took a few steps back to put more distance between us. He saw my movement and immediately froze. The back of my knees hit the stone barrier. I stopped and blinked my eyes several times, not comprehending what he was telling me.

“Where’s Ren? I don’t understand. Did you
do
something to him?”

“No. I
am
him.”

He began to approach me again, while I shook my head.

“No. You
can’t
be.”

I tried to take another step and almost fell backward over the wall. He reached me in the blink of an eye and caught my waist, steadying me.

“Are you alright?” he asked politely.

“No!” He was still holding my hand. I stared at it, imagining the tiger’s paws.

“Kelsey?” I looked up into his startling blue eyes. “I am your tiger.”

I whispered, “
No
. No! It’s not possible. How could that
be
?”

His quiet voice was soothing. “Please, come inside the house. The owner is not at home right now. You can sit down and relax, and I will attempt to explain everything.”

I was too stunned to argue, so I allowed him to guide me toward the hut. He clutched my fingers in his as if afraid that I would run back into the jungle. I didn’t usually follow strange men around, but something about him made me feel safe. I knew with certainty that he wouldn’t harm me. It was the same strong feeling I experienced with the tiger. He bowed his head to get through the door and stepped into the small hut, pulling me along behind him.

It was a one-room shelter with a small bed in one corner, a tiny window on the side wall, and a table with two chairs in another corner. A curtain was pulled back to reveal a small bathtub. The kitchen was just a sink with a water pump, a short counter, and some shelves with various canned food products and spices. Above our heads, the ceiling was strung with a hanging assortment of dried herbs and plants that filled the room with a sweet fragrance.

The man gestured that I should sit on the bed, then leaned against a wall and waited quietly for me to settle myself.

Recovering from the initial shock, I snapped out of my daze and assessed my situation. He was Ren, the tiger. We stared at each other for a moment, and I
knew
he was telling the truth. The eyes were the same.

I felt the fear in my body drain away while a new emotion rushed forward to fill the void: anger. Despite all the time I’d spent with him, he’d chosen not to share this secret with me. He’d led me through the jungle, apparently on purpose, and allowed me to believe that I was lost, in a foreign country, in the wilderness, alone.

I knew he’d never hurt me. He was a . . . friend, and I trusted him. But why hadn’t he trusted
me
? He’d had plenty of opportunities to share this peculiar reality, but he hadn’t.

Looking at him with suspicion, I irritably asked, “So, what
are
you? Are you a man who became a tiger or a tiger that turned into a man? Or are you like a werewolf? If you bit me, would I turn into a tiger too?”

He tilted his head with a puzzled expression on his face, but he didn’t answer right away. He watched me with the same intense blue eyes as the tiger. It was disconcerting.

“Uh,
Ren
? I think I’d feel more comfortable if you moved a little farther away from me while we discuss this.”

He sighed, walked calmly over to the corner, sat on a chair, and then leaned against the wall, balancing himself on the chair’s two back legs. “Kelsey, I will answer all of your questions. Just be patient with me and give me time to explain.”

“Alright. Explain.”

As he gathered his thoughts, I scrutinized his appearance. I couldn’t believe that this was my tiger—that the tiger I cared about was this man.

He didn’t look very tiger-like, other than his eyes. He had full lips, a square jaw, and an aristocratic nose. He didn’t look like any other man I’d ever seen. I couldn’t place it, but there was something else, something cultured about him. He exuded confidence, strength, and nobility.

Even barefoot with nondescript clothing, he looked like someone powerful. And even if he weren’t good looking—and he was
extremely
good looking—I still would have been drawn to him. Maybe that was the tiger part of him. Tigers always seem regal to me. They capture my attention. He was as beautiful a man as he was a tiger.

I trusted my tiger, but could I trust the man? I warily eyed him from the edge of the rickety bed, my doubts obvious on my face. He was patient, allowing me to boldly study him, and even seemed amused, as if he could read my thoughts.

I finally broke the silence, “Well,
Ren
? I’m listening.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, then slid his hand up through his silky black hair, mussing it in a distractingly attractive way.

Dropping his hand to his lap, he looked at me thoughtfully from under thick eyelashes. “Ah, Kelsey. Where do I begin? There’s so much I need to tell you, but I don’t even know where to start.”

His voice was quiet, refined, and genial, and I soon found myself mesmerized by it. He spoke English very well with just a slight accent. He had a honeyed voice—the kind that sends a girl off into wistful daydreams. I shook off my reaction and caught him scrutinizing me with his cobalt blue eyes.