Xavier's Arc

Chapter 12 of 21

The scent mask held, but the tiger swayed on its feet. Xavier saw it now. Its red flanks heaved. Its head hung low over the tall blooms. He had run the beast for days with no true rest and no proper meal. A hidden scent meant nothing if the tiger dropped from exhaustion. He needed a den, and he needed it before dark. Berry stood at the field's edge, watching the tiger sag. "A tired beast cannot outrun a fresh pack," the bear said. "You have hidden its smell. Now hide its body and let it feed." He turned his broad head toward a dark line of trees beyond the flowers. "There. High ground. Old wood." Xavier led the tiger by a slow hand across the field. His alligator hide boots gripped the wet mud where bare feet would have slipped. At the tree line he found it. A hut, wrapped in hanging leaves and thick vine, perched in the crook of a wide trunk. Someone had built it long ago and left it to the swamp. The vines held it fast. The canopy above hid its roof from any eye below. "This will hold the tiger off the ground," Berry said. "Climbing hunters may come. But a rested tiger fights. A starved one dies." First Xavier fed the beast. He drove his bone knife into the mud bank and speared a fat swamp fish, then two more. He laced their flesh with crushed root, the same mix that healed wounds. The tiger tore into the meat. Xavier watched its ears lift and its breath ease. The silver fox cub crept from the reeds and pressed against his boot, safe now that the tiger no longer trembled. Getting the beast up took the rest of the light. Xavier hauled loose vines into a ramp, knotting them thick against the trunk. He coaxed the tiger with a strip of meat held high. The great cat set one heavy paw on the vines, then another. The ramp groaned. It held. The tiger climbed into the leafy hut and sank down on the plank floor. For the first time in days, it slept deep. Xavier climbed up after it. He pulled the fox cub into his lap and sat in the doorway. Below, the swamp went dark. He had a den at last. The tiger fed and rested. The pack's noses were lost in the flower scent. Berry stayed at the base of the trunk, a black shape against the mud. "Rest while you can," he called up. "You bought the beast its strength. But look at the leaves." Xavier looked. The hanging vines hid the roof, but between them the red coat glowed through, bright as a coal. The mask fooled the nose. It did nothing for the eye. When the pack came, they would come looking up.