Xavier's Arc

Chapter 1 of 21

Xavier came to this swamp to tame the biggest tiger in it, and now the swamp meant to eat him first. Each step sank him to the knee. The mud gripped his boots and sucked them down. He hauled one leg free, then the other, and gained no ground. Somewhere behind him, the water hissed. Something moved beneath the surface. He had walked these waters for weeks, tracking a tiger the size of a horse. Its red fur burned bright against the reeds. Its yellow stripes glowed at dusk. Xavier wanted it as his sworn companion, to ride where no boy had ridden before. But a rider had to survive the swamp first. Right now the swamp was winning. The mud reached his thighs. His bone knife hung at his belt, useless against a bog. He gripped a hanging root and pulled. It snapped. He slid deeper. Cold water climbed his chest. His pet fox cub whimpered on his shoulder, its silver fur trembling, its small claws digging into his skin. "Easy," Xavier said. His voice shook. The fox leapt from his shoulder to a hump of dry moss. It landed light, then turned and stared at him. Behind that mossy hump grew a strange flower. Blue petals with gold edges shone in the dark. Its stem was thick and rooted deep. Xavier knew that flower. His grandmother had strung its roots into rope, because the roots held when nothing else did. The water lapped his chin. He stretched. His fingers brushed the stem, then wrapped it tight. The root held. He pulled, and this time the mud gave an inch. He pulled again. His shoulder tore free. He dragged his chest onto the moss, then his legs, then rolled onto solid ground, gasping. The fox licked his cheek. Xavier lay still and breathed. He had beaten the mud. His hands would not stop shaking. Then he heard it. A low growl rolled across the water. Xavier lifted his head. Two black eyes shone at the tree line, level with his own. Yellow stripes caught the last light. The red tiger stood twenty steps away, watching him claw out of the mud. It had followed his noise. It had waited for him to weaken. Xavier reached for his knife. His fingers closed on the bone grip. He was out of the swamp, but he had traded one death for another. The tiger he came to tame now stood between him and the trees, and it was hungry.