Gram Alder's Arc

Chapter 9 of 11

The red light spread across the clearing and did not fade. Gram watched it climb the trees and reach toward the dark timber. Soph still had her palm on the door, waiting for the seal to break. But Gram's eyes stayed on the tree line. He had left the tiger up the mountain, waiting for him. She would see this glow. She would come. "Soph," he said. "We have to move." "The seal breaks in minutes." She did not turn. "I am not leaving this spot." "You don't understand. There's a tiger coming." He kept his voice low and flat. "A real one. She follows me, but she won't come near strangers. If she sees you here, next to me, I don't know what she does." Soph looked at him now. Rain ran off her chin. "How far?" "Close. She can move fast." Gram pulled her back from the door by the sleeve. "Get behind the oak. Stay down. Don't speak." Soph pulled her arm free but stepped back. She crouched behind the thick trunk, hidden from the clearing. Gram stood alone in the red light, arms loose at his sides, and faced the timber. A shape came through the trees. The flame tiger moved into the clearing, her body bright as a coal, the fire on her hide flickering with each step. She stopped ten feet from Gram. Her yellow eyes fixed on him, then swept the clearing. Her ears flattened. She had smelled the stranger. Gram stayed still. He held out one open hand, palm up, the way he had at her den. "It's me," he said softly. "You know me." The tiger's tail lashed. She took one step past Gram, toward the oak, toward the place where Soph hid. A low sound rolled from her chest. Gram did not grab her. He did not block her. He knelt, slow, and stayed on her level. "She's with me," he said. "She's not a hunter. She's leaving soon." Behind the oak, Soph held her breath. She did not move. She did not speak. The tiger stepped again, sniffed the air near the trunk, and found no fear turned to threat. Then she turned back to Gram. She pressed her broad head against his chest, hard, the way she had in the den. Gram let out his breath. He rested his hand on her flaming shoulder. She had come down the mountain to find him. She had smelled a stranger and chosen him anyway. Behind the oak, the door cracked. A seam of red split the wood, and the void opened wide and black. Soph rose. "It's open," she said. Her voice shook. She stared at the tiger, then at Gram. "You tamed that." "Not yet," Gram said. The tiger stood at his side, watching the open gate. "But she came down for me. First time she's left the mountain." He looked at the black door. "Now she's standing next to it."