Time was running out, both for the panther and for her. But there was one very important thing she could still do. Even though the panther might kill her, she could release it.
Snowflake gave up trying to hide in Kiri’s armpit. He clambered onto her shoulder and gave several warning chuffs. She was touched by his attempts to protect her. Despite his small size, he was brave and loyal—a true friend, and that was why he couldn’t stay with her.
“Easy, little one,” she told Snowflake as she lifted him from her shoulder.
The rat quivered in her hands.
Kiri stroked his head to comfort him while she walked to a nearby palmetto tree. “I’m sorry, Snowflake. I love you, but you need to go now so you don’t get hurt.”
Snowflake nudged her fingers. Don’t be silly. I’m not leaving you, he seemed to say.
Kiri kissed the white star on his head and brushed her cheek against his soft pink ears. “You’ll be okay,” she said, struggling to keep her voice steady. Crying would only make Snowflake more anxious.
She set the rat on a tuft of palm fronds near the top of the palmetto. “Go on, find some other rats. Some nice ones,” she said. “That’s where you belong.”
Snowflake cocked his head. Kiri pulled a palm nut from her hood and gave it to him.
He took the nut in his tiny paws, but immediately dropped it and nudged her fingers again.
“You’ll always be my Snowflake. Now go. I have to do this.”
She stepped away from Snowflake before she lost courage. The rat squeaked—a high-pitched, desperate squeak, unlike any sound she’d ever heard him make before, but Kiri didn’t look back. She couldn’t. If she did, she’d fall apart, and she needed all her courage to do what came next.
The panther’s growls grew louder as Kiri approached the cage. She reached for the knife on her belt and held it out before her. The blade seemed such a small, insignificant thing. The panther had five blades just as sharp on each of her paws, and jaws strong enough to snap Kiri’s bones like twigs. She had eyes that could see in the dark, and ears that could pinpoint mice moving through the grass a dozen steps away. She was many times stronger and faster than Kiri, and she could move in complete silence without being seen.
Kiri had no illusions about the panther anymore. She was a wild predator, and she’d tear through Kiri just as she’d tear through the walls of the cage if she could to get to her cubs. Still, Kiri approached.
Taking a deep breath, Kiri slid the tip of her knife into the gap between the latch and the door. The panther’s growls made her stomach quake. Once she did this, there’d be no turning back. She knew that. But she also knew she couldn’t live with not doing this. Using all her strength, Kiri pried the knife against the metal bars until the latch snapped and the cage door fell open.
The panther huddled in the shadows at the back of the cage. Kiri closed her eyes, expecting death to come quickly now—a hot bite on her neck or a crushing paw swipe to her head. At least it would be better than withering from fever and dying slowly.
For a moment, all was quiet. The door stayed open, yet nothing happened.
Swift as the wind, the panther leapt.
Everything, even the blood flowing through Kiri’s veins, stopped.
But the hot bite didn’t come. There was no crushing paw strike. No pain. Perhaps death happened faster than she imagined.
She opened her eyes, expecting to see whatever the dead saw. The trees, grass, and ruins all looked the same as before. The cage door gaped open in front of her, but the cage appeared empty. The prowling shadow within had vanished.
Kiri scanned the forest, spotting the panther less than a stone’s throw from where she crouched. Moonlight glinted off the panther’s fiery green eyes as the creature studied her.
Follow, whispered a voice that sounded less like her mother, and more like the hiss of a cat.
Follow.
That’s what the voice said, so that’s what Kiri did. She walked after the Shadow That Hunts, as if the death she’d faced when she unlocked the cage had merely been a test she had to pass.
She couldn’t tell when or how it had happened, but the whole world was a shimmering desert. Her skin burned and hot sand singed her bare feet. Kiri stumbled as she climbed the dunes. The withered limbs of trees jutted above the sand in places like half-buried giants, their wooden fingers crumbling the moment she touched them. She saw no tracks. No birds or insects. No telltale green of living plants. Just a shifting, empty expanse of sand and the pale blue of a cloudless sky.
Wind pushed the dunes, moving them like tired waves in a blazing ocean. Walls and fences crisscrossed the landscape, but they couldn’t hold back the sand. Even the buildings in the distance appeared empty and barren—hollowed out by the unstoppable wind and the blowing sand.
Kiri wondered if it was the wind that had caused everything to die. Or was it the heat that had turned all the plants to dust? Either way, the emptiness had come, leaving only hot sand beneath her feet and a shadow walking ahead of her.
The shadow drifted so far ahead that it became a speck in the distance. Then the speck stretched into a tree.
Kiri stumbled toward it. Where there was a tree, there had to be shade. And water.
The tree looked enormous—a sprawling banyan with a trunk several times wider than Kiri could spread her arms, and branches that dropped roots deep into the dunes around it. But it had almost no leaves. Nearly every branch was bare.
Kiri’s hopes withered when she saw this, until she noticed a woman near the base. The woman had chestnut skin and thin black braids tied back into a cluster that sprouted like a fountain of hair from the top of her head.
“Ma?” Kiri whispered as she approached.
Her mother didn’t look up. She knelt and dipped one finger into a bucket, then placed drops of water one by one on tiny blades of dune grass poking through the sand.
“What are you doing?” asked Kiri.
“Without the grass the sand will blow and tear the leaves from the tree,” replied her mother. “Without the leaves the tree will die. Without the tree the birds will starve. Without the birds the sky will weep. Without the sky the fish can’t breathe. Without the fish the people will starve.” She sat back on her heels and stared at Kiri. “Nothing stands alone.”
“I’ve been looking for you,” said Kiri, rushing toward her mother.
But her mother didn’t smile or pull her into a hug as Kiri expected. “I can’t call you here anymore,” she said. “It’s too dangerous. You must become what you seek.”
Kiri frowned, confused.
“Tend the tree,” said her mother. She gestured to three green leaves on a nearby branch. They were some of the only leaves left on the banyan. “If it dies all will unravel, and there’s no wall that can stop the unraveling.” As she spoke, she walked around the wide tree trunk. “Tend the tree,” she repeated.
Kiri hurried after her, but when she reached the other side of the tree she didn’t see her mother. “Ma? Where are you?”
Kiri, Kiri, Cricket…, replied a whisper that was above her, and behind her, and close to her, and not there at all.
“Ma!” cried Kiri.
Hear the crickets chirping in the grass, sang her mother in a voice so distant and faint, Kiri couldn’t tell which direction it came from.
If they’re alone, they’ll be the last.
When the wind blows, a storm will come
Little crickets must run, run, run!
“Kir!”
Kiri startled awake, heart racing from her vision.
Her head spun and she felt terribly hot and thirsty. She blinked several times, trying to steady her sight. As her eyes adjusted she saw a black shadow above her, only it wasn’t a tree. It wasn’t her mother, either.
It was a crow, perched on the edge of a ruin wall. The crow opened its black beak and cawed again. “Kir! Kir!” It cocked its head, peering down at her with one yellow-rimmed eye, then the other.
Kiri
sat up, recognizing the jagged walls of the ruin. She wasn’t very far from the clearing with the panther’s den.
Gradually, images from the night fell into place. She must have passed out in the ruins after following the panther, and then she’d dreamed of the tree. Only it didn’t seem like an ordinary dream. Her fever visions felt as real as anything else.
“Kiri!” called a distant voice.
The crow squawked “Kir!” again, as if imitating the call. With a flap of wings it launched itself into the sky and circled above her. The devi marks on Kiri’s shoulder and cheek tingled as she watched it.
“Kiri!” called the voice again. A man’s voice—one of the fugees from the village. Kiri couldn’t tell who.
Every muscle in her body ached when she forced herself to climb down from the ruin and go toward where the person calling her name seemed to be. After a few minutes, she saw a couple of figures moving through the forest in the distance. She slowed and crouched behind a clump of muhly grass. Nessa and Tarun appeared to be searching the ground, along with a few other fugees. Kiri made out Tae’s skinny form in the early-morning light. Then she saw Senek and Charro step out from between two clusters of saw palms beyond them. Tarun put his hands to his mouth and shouted her name again.
Kiri almost ran to them. They carried food and water. They could give her a drink and take care of her. Her mouth gaped at the prospect of gulping down cool water. Then she saw the long gun Charro cradled in his arms. She couldn’t trust them. Not if her da wasn’t there.
Kiri crept closer, careful to stay hidden behind bushes and stands of muhly grass.
“Anything?” asked Tarun.
Charro shook his head.
“The tracks led this way,” said Nessa. “She must be around here somewhere.”
“Which tracks?” asked Charro.
“Both hers and the panther’s,” said Tarun, gesturing to the ground. “At least until here. Then the trails split.”
“Where’s the Waller Man?” asked Nessa, scanning the area near where Kiri hid.
Kiri froze, not even daring to breathe, but the fugees didn’t see her.
“He’s with Paulo,” said Charro. “They’re searching along the fence line east of here.”
Kiri’s heart sped up at the mention of her da. He was out searching for her with the fugees! When he’d discovered the panther and her missing, he must have persuaded the fugees to help him find her. There was still hope. Kiri almost called to the fugees, but something held her back. Her mother’s voice echoed in her head. Run, run, run! she’d said, warning her to get away.
“We should tell him about the tracks,” said Nessa.
“Tell him what?” countered Charro. “We haven’t found the girl.”
“Or the panther,” added Senek.
Charro gave Senek a sharp look, then he turned back to address Tarun and Nessa. “We don’t know if she was following the panther, or if the panther was hunting her. All we know is that their tracks are together and then they’re not. You going to tell her da that she might have been eaten?”
“I didn’t see any blood,” said Nessa.
“Not yet,” answered Charro.
Crouched behind the bush, Kiri stayed silent. Did they think the panther had attacked her? Was that why they were searching for her? Or did Charro have other motives?
“He’s right,” said Tarun. “We shouldn’t get her da until we know more. No sense scaring him like that.”
“You and Nessa head east toward the fence line,” said Charro. “If you find her trail, give a shout. And if you don’t, go north.”
“What are you going to do?” asked Nessa.
“Senek, Tae, and I will search inland, toward the lake. She must have crossed this way somewhere. We just have to find her trail again.”
Nessa clenched her jaw, but she seemed to accept the plan. “Why on earth did she release that thing?” she asked, shaking her head.
“Who knows?” said Charro. “If you find her, you can ask her.”
“When,” said Nessa. “When we find her.”
Charro nodded. “When,” he said, and the group split up.
Nessa and Tarun passed through the tall grass only a few steps from where Kiri hid. They were so focused on searching the ground for tracks that they didn’t notice her, and she didn’t make a sound.
Tae and Senek started to head in the opposite direction, toward the lake, but Charro paused near a ridge of sand oaks and cabbage palms. He snapped his fingers, signaling for Tae and Senek to wait.
“What is it? You see something?” asked Tae.
Charro put a finger to his lips.
Kiri crawled closer so she could hear what he said. Charro waited until Nessa and Tarun were out of earshot before he spoke again.
“We’re not going that way,” said Charro.
“But you said west, toward the lake,” replied Tae.
Charro cocked the long gun and checked the sights. “We’re going this way instead.”
“Why?” asked Tae.
“Because I saw some tracks over there.”
“Kiri’s tracks?”
“No. Panther tracks,” said Charro, keeping his voice low. “Fresh ones. We’re close.”
He set off, heading straight toward the clearing with the den, long gun raised and ready.
Kiri’s chest clenched so tightly she could barely breathe. Charro and the others weren’t trying to help her da find her. They were looking for the panther, and she’d led them right to the panther’s trail.
She couldn’t let anyone find the den, especially not Charro. If Charro found it, he’d catch the cubs and trade them to the boat people. Then the cubs would be separated and sold on the black market, or killed and skinned. Cricket, Skitter, and Mustache would be lost, all because of her.
“Stay alert,” Charro said, glancing back at Tae and Senek. “It’s time we take what’s ours.”
As soon as Charro, Senek, and Tae were gone, Kiri set off through the ghost forest, swift as the Shadow That Hunts. At least, that’s how she tried to run, jumping over logs and landing lightly on her toes, bounding like the panther did. But her body was weaker than she had thought, and she tripped and almost smacked into a tree.
Kiri picked herself up off the sandy ground and continued on as fast as she could. Hours ago she’d been dizzy and exhausted, but now she passed into a realm beyond exhaustion. Every muscle in her body felt as if it were on fire. In her fever-struck mind, she pictured layer after layer of the self she knew burning off until there was nothing but a glowing coal at her core that refused to be extinguished.
She had to hurry. Charro, Senek, and Tae would follow the tracks right to the den, but they didn’t know the area as well as she did. By circling around and taking a gully through the forest, Kiri hoped to get ahead of them. Then she could work backward, starting near the den and erasing all the tracks that led to it so Charro wouldn’t find the cubs.
The first slivers of sunlight crested the horizon when she approached the clearing, painting the clouds red. Red sky in the morning meant storms would come—that’s what the netters said. In the rosy light Kiri could make out the thick saw palm bushes where the den was hidden, but she didn’t see the cubs anywhere.
Good, she thought. Hopefully, they were all safe in the den with their mother. Kiri spotted several round divots in the sandy earth—fresh panther tracks, large and small, dotting the area. The tracks were thickest around the opening of the den.
Stay in there, she thought, staring at the dark mouth of the den. Don’t come out. Don’t let yourself be seen. She concentrated on the words, willing the cubs to understand. If they came out and were spotted by the fugees, she wouldn’t be able to save them.
With a couple of dry palm branches Kiri brushed away any tracks she could find. She didn’t go too close to the den, focusing instead on tracks that might lead Charro there. As she worked, images of the cubs and their playful antics flickered through her head. Stay safe, safe, safe, she c
hanted to herself, picturing each of the cubs. Whether it was because of the warnings or the noise she made, the cubs didn’t come out.
Kiri left the clearing and followed the most recent line of tracks back toward where she’d last seen Charro and the others, dragging the palm branches behind her. It was a trick her da had taught her. The stiff palm leaves would wipe out tracks, both hers and the panthers’, in the sandy earth. Her heart pounded as she glanced back repeatedly to check her progress. One missed print and Charro might find the whole family.
Sweat poured down Kiri’s sides, and her hands stung from dragging the palm branches, but she didn’t stop. Tend the tree, her mother had told her. Even though Kiri didn’t know exactly what that meant, it seemed connected to the cubs. There’d been three leaves on the tree in her vision—one leaf for each cub. The more she worked, the more the devi mark on her shoulder warmed, as if her mother’s hand were resting there, encouraging her. So she pressed on, erasing the panther tracks, doing everything she could to save them.
After some time, Kiri sensed that she wasn’t alone. A shadow moved through the grass at the edge of her vision. At first her fever-struck mind let her believe it was her mother, walking with her. She turned to focus on her, but the shadow vanished in the brush, causing a few low leaves to stir. No, she thought, realizing it wasn’t her mother.
“Go away,” she whispered to the shadows behind her. “It’s dangerous here.”
Nothing moved in the grass and brush behind her. She continued on, erasing any tracks she found until she sensed the shadow again.
This time, Kiri resisted turning around. Her da had told her once that eyes were more sensitive to light around the edges, so if you wanted to see dim stars, the trick was to avoid looking directly at them. She tried to do that now, slowly turning her head while focusing on the shadows at the edge of her vision. When nothing moved for several moments, she realized with a start that she was staring right at her observer: in the brush off to the side crouched the panther mother, perfectly camouflaged among the dry undergrowth.
The Last Panther Page 10