Gram Alder's Arc

Chapter 5 of 11

For three days Gram brought meat to the flame tiger. Each morning she ate what he left. Each morning she watched him with her coal eyes and stayed away. She trusted his hands to feed her. She would not let those hands touch her. He crouched by the cave mouth with fresh venison and knew feeding alone would never close the gap. He needed something else. He did not know what. That night he emptied the strongbox on the ledge. The compass rolled out, its needle swinging toward the cave. Beside it lay the scroll and the glowing blue flower. He had carried the flower since the first climb. Its light had drawn the tiger out once. Now its petals were shut tight, dark and folded. Gram unrolled the scroll. He could not read the runes. But near the bottom a line of plain script named the flower. It called it a moonbloom. It said the bloom opened under the full moon, and its light calmed a wild heart. He looked up. The moon hung full and white over the peak. He understood. He had used the flower as bait. He had never used it as a gift. He set the flower on the bare rock between himself and the tiger, in the open moonlight. Then he sat back and waited. The petals stirred. One by one they opened. Soft blue light spread across the stone. The glow reached the cave mouth and touched the mother's face. She rose. Fire rippled along her spine. She stepped out and stared at the flower, then at Gram. Gram did not move toward her. He pushed the flower a hand's width closer to her and drew his own hand back. An offering, not a lure. The cubs crept out behind their mother. They batted at the light with small paws. The mother let them. She walked to the flower. Her nose hovered over the petals. The blue light lit her eyes. For a long moment she breathed in its glow. Then she lifted her head and looked at Gram across three feet of stone. He held his palm flat and open on his knee. He did not reach. He waited for her. She closed the gap. She stepped forward and lowered her huge head. Her muzzle touched his open palm. Heat rolled off her fur, but it did not burn. Gram felt her breath on his skin. He kept still and let her decide. She pressed her head against his hand and held it there. The gap was gone. She had chosen to touch him. But her weight against his palm was enormous, and he felt how easily she could crush him. Trust ran both ways now. She had let him close. Soon she would expect him to follow her, up the peak, into the den where the cubs slept. He had earned her touch. Now he had to earn a place inside her home.