The roar of the water brought back bad memories and Fliss held Taj tightly as they approached the river. The water was spilling into the forest but there were no silvery fish in its wake. There were only old branches and stones from the riverbed.
Fliss was about to give up when floodwater flowing back towards the river revealed parallel tracks in the soggy grass beneath. The tyre track path!
Wading through the water, which now went halfway up her shins, she walked on. Every now and then she stopped to let the water wash away again so she could check that she was still on the right path. She wouldn’t leave it this time. Taj still mewed, desperate with hunger.
“I’m sorry, Taj, but we need to walk a bit further. Just a little bit further.”
Fliss knew there had to be a reason for a track in the middle of nowhere. She had thought so the first time, and now she was determined to find out where it led.
The track wove in and around trees and seemed to go on forever. Then it turned sharply away from the river and headed into the thick forest again. Fliss felt hope drain from her but when she looked up something white was glinting through the trees ahead.
“Let’s go see what it is,” she said to Taj.
The track stopped at a little car park. A white truck was parked there. And beyond it was a building surrounded by a high white wall. Fliss crept closer to look. The wall was covered with writing and images. The paint was old and peeling away in many places, but Fliss could still make out the outlines. She could see that the pictures were of tigers. Leaping tigers with big wide grins.
“Wow! I think these people really like tigers. But we have to be sure they are good people before we ask for help.”
Fliss searched the area, looking for more information. Just above her she spotted small slits along the wall – tiny windows. Standing on tiptoe, she peered through.
“Look, Taj, look!” Fliss said, hurriedly lifting the cub so it could see through the window. As usual, Taj was too wriggly. “OK, I’ll tell you what I see. Tiger cubs. Happy little tiger cubs, just like you!”
Pressing her face to the window again, Fliss watched as tiger cubs clambered over tree trunks and rope nets, playing together without a care in the world. Dotted around the enclosure were bowls of water and lots of food.
“I’ve got a good feeling about this place.” She paused, blinking. “It’s funny. I feel like I’ve been here before… Come on, let’s go and say hello.”
Fliss walked back round to the front and stood outside the door. Above it was a sign in an alphabet Fliss couldn’t read. There was one in English too: ‘Shaanti Tiger Sanctuary’.
“A tiger sanctuary!” Fliss exclaimed. “Taj, this is the answer we’ve been looking for. These people will care for you and make sure you grow up to be king of the jungle. It even looks like a palace!” She gazed down at the cub, scruffy from their adventure. She had a lump in her throat. “Let’s smarten you up, shall we?”
Fliss raked Taj’s fur with her fingertips, smoothing it down. Then she walked back into the forest to look for slender vines and white blossoms that smelled like honey. She wound them together in a circle.
“This is perfect,” she said. “Now come and give me a hug goodbye.”
Taj was more interested in playing with the newly made crown in her hand than giving hugs, but Fliss held him tight. She took his face in her hands and looked once more into those grey eyes.
Be happy, little prince.
Taj stopped still and looked at her, as if he realized that this was goodbye. Then he gave her a big raspy lick across her face. Fliss spluttered but she didn’t push him away. She knew that every last second with the cub was precious.
With a tummy full of butterflies, Fliss led him to the door of the sanctuary and pressed the crown down on his head. She lay a mango stone at his feet – something for him to play with, to keep him on the doorstep – and then she pulled the bell rope.
Somewhere behind the wall she heard it tinkle, like birdsong. She gave Taj a last kiss on the top of his head and returned to the edge of the forest to hide and watch. Sitting under a nearby bush, she could see her little tiger cub on the doorstep and her heart ached. It swelled with pride too. At Taj for being brave. And at herself, for not giving up.
The door opened.
Fliss heard a woman’s voice – soft and surprised – and saw two hands reach down and gently wrap themselves around Taj’s middle. He was lifted off his feet and taken in. The sanctuary door closed.
Fliss watched the door for a long time but it didn’t open again. Her tiger adventure was over.
She started to walk back down the path towards the river, feeling happy but sad, joyful but miserable. Although she knew that she would miss Taj every day, she also knew he was in the best place now. With a tear in her eye, Fliss took one last look behind her.
The Shaanti Tiger Sanctuary. It was such a beautiful name.
She said the words over and over, suddenly remembering the pictures sent to her by the Wild Jungle Fund. Of a cub in an enclosure with logs and food, and a sanctuary wall with a door and a sign above it…
Of course! She knew she had seen this place before. Dhoop had been cared for here. Right here! Dhoop had grown up to be big and strong, and now Taj would too! Fliss clapped her hands for joy. Little Taj, runt of the litter and rejected by his family, would one day have a family of his very own.
With Taj safe and sound, it was time for Fliss to return to her own family. But where was the path home? Perhaps the answer would suddenly appear, just as it had done before.
Fliss stepped off the track and wandered into the undergrowth, swinging her sore arms and shaking out her legs. There was no rain now. In a patch of forest where a stream of sun had broken through the canopy, she stopped and closed her eyes. She breathed in the warm sweet smells and listened to the calls of the birds, whooping and whistling in the treetops… She wanted to be able to remember this, always.
Then a raucous cackle broke the silence. Monkeys!
Fliss looked up, hoping it was Mango. She’d never had the chance to thank him. With her eyes on the treetops, she didn’t notice a curtain of vines hanging in front of her. She walked right into them, her arms and legs getting tangled in them instantly. Somewhere above her the monkeys hooted.
“Laughing at me, are you? I think I preferred it when you were throwing mangoes!” she called, fighting her way out of the vines.
On the other side of them, she found herself looking at…
“Ella!” Fliss gasped.
“Who was throwing mangoes?”
“What?” Fliss spun round to look at the jungle behind her. It was made of plastic, rubber and felt. She was back!
“I said, who was throwing mangoes? Was it the kid with the stripey red T-shirt? I bet it was. He’s a right monster…”
Just then, their birthday group ran at them, screaming. Freddie stopped at Fliss’s feet.
“Be scared!” he insisted. “We’re jungle lions.”
“Lions don’t live in the jungle,” Fliss said, still a little confused. “Tigers live in the jungle!”
“Yeah, we’re tigers. Now run for your lives or we’ll eat you up!”
Ella and Fliss screamed with laughter and ran to the Monkey Climbing Room, with Freddie and his friends chasing them as fast as they could.
“Let’s cross the monkey bars,” Fliss said. “It’ll be harder for them to get to us if we’re on the other side.”
“OK, let’s go!” Ella followed Fliss up to the bars and watched, astonished, as her friend flew across them. “You do have stamina!”
“You can say that again.” Fliss grinned. “I’m strong enough to do anything! Come on, let’s hide in there.”
The girls jumped down into the middle of a giant ball pit and covered themselves in plastic balls to hide from the tigers.
“Budge up,” said Ella, nudging Fliss along. “Er… Why is your top wet, Flissy?”
“Oh that,” Fliss said. “I’ve been in t
he monsoon.”
Just then an ambush of tigers pounced on top of them with shouts of found you, found you! Somewhere a whistle blew. It was the end of the play session, and the end of the party.
One by one, the party guests left, until it was just Fliss, Ella, Freddie and his mum.
“Thanks so much for helping out, girls,” said Fliss’s aunt, smiling. “I couldn’t have done it without you.” She started to give Fliss a hug then stepped back. “Why are you damp?”
“She was in the moss room,” Ella explained.
“What’s the moss room?” Fliss said.
“I don’t know. A room covered in wet moss or something. You should know, Flissy, you’re the one who was there.”
“Oh, Ella,” Fliss said, trying hard not to laugh. “I said I’d been in the monsoon. Why would there be a room full of moss?”
Ella’s eyes widened and she held her hand in front of her mouth. “Monsoon! Moss room!” she shrieked. The two girls laughed at her mistake all the way home.
When Fliss got back to her house, exhausted and happy, she tucked into a delicious dinner. Then she hopped straight in the bath and got into her pyjamas. It was only six o’clock but she was tired and ready for bed. She felt as if every muscle in her body was yawning.
Before she went to bed, Fliss turned on the computer in her dad’s study. She tapped in the address of a website and sat back as it opened up.
The Wild Jungle Fund website brought back a flood of memories. There were pictures of the jungle filled with pretty blossoms and trees dripping with mangoes – there were even langurs in the branches! Snakes too! Fliss clicked through them all, remembering the smell of the rain and the warm wet earth.
Then she clicked on the Tiger Rescue page.
It talked about how you could donate money to support local tiger sanctuaries, which rescued cubs and built them into strong, healthy adults. There were photographs of big sleek tigers being released back into the wild – the carers throwing flower petals at their feet as they left. It was magical! Fliss felt sad she would never get to see her own little prince walk on petals to take his place in the jungle…
There was a button for New Arrivals and Fliss clicked on it. A video came on – there was a webcam inside the sanctuary! It showed a big enclosure with climbing logs and bowls of food. And then, right up close to the camera, a little cub suddenly appeared. It peered into the camera with its bright grey button eyes.
Taj?
The tiger cub sprung back and tilted his head to one side. Those little ears and twitchy whiskers – there was no mistaking them. He licked his chops with a big prickly tongue and rolled on his back with his legs in the air.
“It is you, it is!” Fliss laughed. “No one else could clown around like that!”
The cub sprang to its feet and ran to play with his friends. He turned back and mewed, just once, before disappearing beneath a tumble of tiger cubs.
Fliss wiped a tear from her eye. “Good luck, my little prince.”
The video came to an end. Fliss sighed and placed a hand on her heart. She was about to log off when she stopped, feeling a spark of excitement. She thought of adoption packs and updates and photos that arrived once a month showing the rescued cubs growing…
Fliss grinned from ear to ear as a most brilliant idea crept into her tired mind. In the morning she would ask her parents to click the big red button at the bottom of the page. The one that said ADOPT NOW.
Fliss crawled into bed and sighed with happiness. She would see her little prince grow up to be a king, after all.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rachel Delahaye was born in Australia but has lived in the UK since she was six years old. She studied linguistics and worked as a magazine writer and editor before becoming a children’s author. She loves words and animals; when she can combine the two, she is very happy indeed! At home, Rachel loves to read, write and watch wildlife documentaries. Outside, she loves to go walking in woodland. She also follows news about animal rights and the environment and hopes that one day the world will be a better home for all species, not just humans!
Rachel has two lively children and a dog called Rocket, and lives in the beautiful city of Bath.
STRIPES PUBLISHING LIMITED
An imprint of the Little Tiger Group
1 Coda Studios, 189 Munster Road, London SW6 6AW
First published in Great Britain in 2020
Text copyright © Rachel Delahaye, 2020
Inside illustrations copyright © Jo Anne Davies at Artful Doodlers, 2020
Cover illustration copyright © Suzie Mason, 2020
eISBN: 978–1–78895–265–1
The right of Rachel Delahaye, and Suzie Mason and Artful Doodlers to be identified as the author and illustrators of this work respectively has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed upon the subsequent purchaser.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Little Tiger Rescue Page 4