There’s a tiger, prowling in front of the smoking fire, its amber-striped skin flashing golden in the setting sun, blood staining the corner of its mouth.
The snow beneath the tiger’s paws is speckled red. “Jeevan!” I cry, my breathing out of control. I lunge toward the fire and grab a smoldering log, the end in my hand not quite alight.
“Asha, move away!”
Nahul is behind me; from the corner of my eye I catch the glint of his rifle.
“No!” I cry out. “What if you hit Jeevan?” The tiger is standing right by the shelter where he’s sleeping, hopefully alive—but defenseless.
I inch forward, and the glow from the fire lights up the tiger, its heavy shoulders taut with each slow step it takes toward the entrance of the shelter. It bows its head slightly and meets my gaze with its green eyes. The burning log trembles in my hand, and I remember the tigers in my vision at Chitragupta’s house, the way they danced in the flames, circling me.
“What are you doing?” shouts Nahul from behind me. “Move away from it. I’m going to fire.”
But I don’t move; I stay facing the tiger as if I’m in a trance, our eyes locked.
The deafening shot echoes through the air above our heads, leaving the acrid smell of burnt powder, smoky and sharp. The shot lodges in a trunk at the other side of the clearing.
Nahul aimed high on purpose—a warning shot. The tiger throws its head back, opens its jaws, and gives a huge growl before disappearing into the forest.
I rush into the shelter on my hands and knees, panic coursing through me, afraid of what I’m about to find. “J-Jeevan?”
But there’s no reply, only the moaning of the wind and the creaking trees.
He’s lying just as I left him, eyes closed, his breath heaving in and out. Alive!
I wrap my arms around him, lay my head on his chest, and blink my tears away. “Thank you,” I say, although I’m not sure who I’m speaking to. “I’m here,” I whisper.
“Asha … Asha … Are you OK?” Nahul is outside, breathing heavily. “Look what I found on the other side.” I leave Jeevan for a moment and follow Nahul around the back of the shelter.
Spread out on the ground lies the blood-smeared body of a wolf. I clench my stomach and turn away.
“It must have been the tiger,” says Nahul. “Is your friend OK?”
I’m in a daze, still trying to work out what happened. “Y-yes … h-he hasn’t been harmed.”
“That’s a miracle.” Nahul’s voice is full of awe. “The tiger protected your friend, Asha.”
“I have to get him to safety … Will you help?”
“Of course.”
I return to Jeevan. “Wake up,” I say softly. “Wake up … please.” His breathing is shallow and raspy, and when I shake him, he stays still, his eyelids fluttering. Is he better or worse than when I left him?
He stirs slightly and behind his eyes there’s a flicker of movement. My heart lifts.
“Jeevan … it’s me, Asha.”
“I’ll milk the goat,” says Nahul, shifting away from the fire. “It’s good, easy food … Grandmother would say it was in my karma to find you and that I should bring you home.”
I lay more wood on the embers, blowing to get the fire started again, before going back inside to Jeevan.
After a minute or two, Nahul hands me his goat-skin water carrier. “Here’s the milk. Make sure you drink some as well. I’ll get the horse ready.”
“Thank you, Nahul.” Sliding my arm around Jeevan’s back, I prop him up and carefully tip the warm, fresh milk into his mouth.
He opens his eyes and splutters. “Asha?” he says faintly.
“Yes. It’s me … Sip some more.”
He takes a small gulp of milk and lets out a deep sigh. I give him another sip.
“Jeevan, we have to leave … You’re not well and it’s dangerous here.”
Nahul comes back to the entrance. “Let’s go—my family will be waiting for me. You’re impressive—the shelter and the fire—you’ve probably saved your friend’s life. And faced up to a tiger.”
I feel myself swell with pride and take a long drink of milk before packing everything into Papa’s scarf and tying a strong knot.
Jeevan sways as I lead him out of the shelter, and together Nahul and I struggle to get him onto the horse. Once we’re ready we ride away through the forest, toward Nahul’s house.
When we finally see the outline of the farmhouse, lit with pale lanterns, I pull my arms tighter around Jeevan, wondering what Nahul’s family will say when he brings two complete strangers into their home. I feel more tired than ever, dark spots crowding the sides of my vision, my fingertips tingling.
Nahul slows the horse. “I’m back,” he shouts. “And I’ve found a boy and a girl in the forest!” We come to a standstill and he jumps down.
Nahul helps us off the horse and I hold on to Jeevan to stop him from toppling over—even though I’m feeling shaky myself.
A group of people rush out of the house and stand in a confused semicircle surrounding us. I feel my stomach flip a somersault.
“Thank the stars you’re back,” says a tall woman who must be Nahul’s ma. “We’ve been waiting and waiting … so worried.”
“Who are they?” asks an older man gruffly.
“I am Asha. I’m from Moormanali in the foothills,” I say with pride. “This is my friend Jeevan. We’re on a journey to find my papa in Zandapur, and we’re going to stop at Kasare on our way to make a pilgrimage.” I want to explain everything at once, but it’s not making any sense and my insides are tightening up.
“Bring them in, quickly,” says Nahul’s ma, putting her arms around us. “She looks like she’s going to collapse.”
I feel myself swaying, and then everything goes black.
Low voices
