Xavier's Arc

Chapter 13 of 21

The howls came before dawn. Xavier woke in the doorway with the fox cub tight against his chest. Below, gray shapes slid from the reeds. The wolf pack had reached the tree line. They spread out and ringed the trunk, noses low, then lifted their heads to the hut. One let out a long cry. The others answered. Xavier looked back at the red coat glowing through the vines. They had found the eye they needed. Berry stood pinned at the base of the trunk, a black shape hemmed by circling wolves. The gentle bear who had taught Xavier the roots now bared his teeth and swung a heavy paw. A wolf leaped back. "They block the ramp, boy," Berry called up. "You cannot climb down through this. Do not try to run." Xavier's mind raced. The vine ramp was the only way down, and the pack owned it. The tiger was rested and fed but still trapped above. If Xavier waited, the wolves would climb, as the wolf-creature once had. He had one blade and one beast. He made his choice. He would not go down. He would come down riding. Xavier woke the tiger with a hand on its neck. The great cat rose. Its ears flattened at the sound below. Xavier gripped the fur at its shoulders and swung onto its back. He drew the bone knife and held it low. "Berry, clear from the trunk!" he shouted. The bear lunged sideways and drove two wolves into the mud. Xavier leaned forward and pressed his heels in. "Go." The tiger sprang. It hit the vine ramp at a run, claws tearing wood. The ramp cracked and gave way behind them. They dropped the last stretch and slammed into the pack. Wolves scattered. One snapped at the tiger's flank. Xavier slashed down and opened its shoulder. It fell yelping into the reeds. The tiger swung its head and flung a second wolf against the trunk. Berry crushed a third under his weight. The pack broke. They fled into the dark water, tails low, leaving two of their own behind. The swamp went quiet. Xavier sat astride the tiger, chest heaving, knife wet in his fist. He had not hidden from the pack. He had ridden through it and won. The tiger stood steady beneath him, obeying his heels, striking where he aimed. In the fight it had moved as one body with him. Berry limped closer, favoring one paw. He looked at boy and beast standing together over the fallen wolves. "That was no hidden creature," the bear said. "That was a war-mount." But Xavier saw the fresh cut across the tiger's flank, bleeding into the mud. The blood scent would carry now. And the pack had not been killed. They had only run. They knew his face, his tiger, his path. They would gather more, and come back stronger, drawn by the very blood he could not hide.