Xavier's Arc

Chapter 3 of 21

Xavier followed the blood into the trees. The drops led him deep, past reeds taller than his head, to solid ground under a wall of roots. There he found the tiger. It lay on its side, panting, the cut leg dark and swollen. When it saw him, it dragged itself back and bared its teeth. The fear had set in. He had done that. Now he had to undo it, or lose the beast forever. He stopped and knelt. He set the bone knife on the ground, blade away from him, and pushed it into the mud. His hands were empty now. The tiger watched the knife sink, then watched him. Its ears stayed flat. Its growl did not stop. A branch cracked behind Xavier. He spun. A black bear stood among the reeds, thick and slow, wearing a stitched sweater gone gray with swamp mud. Xavier knew him. Berry had shown him the blue flower roots weeks ago, the day the mud nearly took him. The bear moved past Xavier without fear and stopped a few steps from the tiger. "You cut it," Berry said. His voice was low and calm. "Now it thinks every hand holds a blade." He reached into a fold of his sweater and drew out a pale root, the same kind that had once pulled Xavier from the bog. "Chew this. Press it on the wound. It draws the swelling out. But you can't force it. Let the tiger choose." Xavier took the root. He chewed it soft, the way Berry showed him, then spat the pulp into his palm. He crawled forward on his knees, slow, eyes down, the way he would not look at a scared dog. The tiger snarled. He stopped. He waited. He crawled again. The huge head lowered toward his hand. The tiger smelled the pulp. Then it smelled the mud where the knife lay buried. Xavier held still and let it decide. His arm shook. His breath stayed even. The tiger's rough tongue touched his palm. It ate the root. Then it let its swollen leg fall against his knee. Xavier pressed the pulp on the cut, gentle, and the beast let him. The growl faded to a long, tired rumble. Berry stepped back into the reeds. "That's a start," he said. "Not a finish. It fed from your hand once. It has not carried you. And a swamp tiger that trusts one boy will guard him against every other beast that comes for him." Xavier looked up. He had wanted to ride the tiger. He had not thought about what would come hunting them both once the tiger claimed him. The leg would heal. The fear had broken. But the bear was right. Somewhere in the trees, something larger had smelled the blood too.