Tiger

by Jeff Stone

  The cub was larger up close than it appeared from a distance, but it was lighter than Fu thought it would be. He had no trouble carrying it to the clearing with the pit. Once there, he walked in concentric circles looking for the hunters' tracks, eventually finding two sets: an older set leading to the clearing and a fresher set leading away. Fu chose the older set and started tracing the hunters' steps backward. After some time, they came upon the hunters' abandoned camp in a grassy area. It seemed the hunters had left the pit and headed directly back to their village without returning to the camp. Still, they hadn't left much at the camp. In fact, the only thing they'd left was a smoldering fire.

  But the glowing embers gave Fu an idea. He laid the sleeping cub down on a soft patch of grass near the fire pit and searched around until he'd collected enough dry wood to rekindle the flames. He and the cub might not be able to eat right now, but at least he could get dry, and they both could get a little rest. After building up the fire, Fu removed his dripping robe and pants and hung them across several forked branches near the fire. Then he sat down next to the cub and unrolled the wet scrolls to dry them out. He laid them upside down, partially to keep them from rolling back up and partially to keep himself from reviewing them. He was anxious to take a look at them, but he knew he really needed some rest. He would have time to look at the scrolls later.

  Fu finished smoothing out the scrolls, then lay down near the cub, next to the warm fire. The cub began to snore, just like Fu often did. Fu looked over and saw that the cub was sleeping with its mouth open, drooling. He often did that, too. As Fu lay there, he realized that these weren't the only things he and the tiger cub had in common. There was also kung fu. Tiger-style kung fu, which was a blending of human skills and tiger skills. That made him and the tiger members of the same spiritual family tree.

  And there was something else. Something significant. He and the cub were both orphans. Both without families. Both alone.

  Fu recalled the boy he had attacked earlier. That boy was lucky. His father might have pressured him to kill the cub, but in the end, his father didn't make him do it. Also, his father seemed to truly care for him. The boy's father might be a good man, after all. Fu's mind began to race again.

  What had he done to the boy? His actions were no better than those of an animal. He had let the animal half of him take control. The only way to make things right was for his other half to get involved. The human half. The man half. A real man admits when he makes a mistake and apologizes, regardless of the consequences. Fu had come to learn this the hard way.

  On more than one occasion, he had attacked one or more of his brothers after they offended him or played a small trick on him. His reactions were always far more drastic than the original actions, usually leaving his brother or brothers in bad shape. Afterward, Grandmaster always made Fu swallow his pride and apologize. His brothers had always accepted his apology, and that was that. All was forgotten. Perhaps if he apologized to the boy, he would be forgiven. And maybe if he openly forgave the men for killing the tiger, the men would forgive him for attacking them. If they were good men, they would forgive him. Grandmaster had told him to find good men to help against Ying. If the hunters were good men, they would help. And if they were very good men, they would also give him some food. At the very least, he could ask the men to direct him to the village dump, where he might be allowed to scavenge for scraps. He was that hungry.

  Curled up by the fire next to his new blood brother, Fu drifted off to sleep.

  “Major Ying, I have returned!” announced Captain Yue ceremoniously.

  Ying pulled his head out of a rain barrel near the Cangzhen main gate and wiped his face on the sleeve of the clean robe he had just put on. Captain Yue paraded over to the opposite side of the rain barrel atop his brown stallion, his immaculate silk robes shimmering in the evening sun.

  Ying's third-in-command was a tall man, but he was slight of build, so he usually wore billowing robes to give himself a bulkier appearance. He also wore large, impractical hats to make himself feel important. He wasn't much of a soldier, but he commanded respect nonetheless. He was the Emperor's nephew.

  “Why are you back already?” Ying scowled as he cleaned one of his ears with a long fingernail.

  “I am happy to report that I have completed my mission,” Captain Yue said proudly adjusting his hat.

  Ying pulled his finger from his ear. “What did you just say?”

  “I am happy to report that I have completed my mission … sir.”

  Ying's eyes sparkled and he laughed. “You surprise me, Captain Yue. That was quick! Where are your men?”

  Captain Yue puffed out his chest. “They're still on the trail, sir. I raced here to give you the news myself. I must say, I've had an exhausting day.”

  “I can only imagine,” Ying replied. “I suppose your men are transporting the young monk. Do you have the scrolls with you? Or are they with your men, too?”

  Captain Yue paused. He shifted in his saddle.

  “I…aaah… thought my mission was simply to find a village and inform their most senior official of your search for the young monks and the scrolls.”

  Ying's face darkened. His eyes no longer sparkled. Now they glowered.

  “That's all you've done?” Ying shouted. “And you're happy to report it? You're an idiot!”

  “You're right, sir,” Captain Yue mumbled. “I am a complete idiot. I am sorry. Perhaps, though, you will be at least somewhat pleased to learn that the village I found is home to the Governor of this entire region.”

  “The Governor?” Ying said, stepping off to the side of the rain barrel. “You don't say? How did he respond to my edict?”

  Captain Yue coughed. “He… was, aaah… he, was—”

  “You didn't even speak to him?” Ying snarled. “You arrogant, good for nothing—”

  “I am sorry, sir! I couldn't tell him. He wasn't there. He was out hunting tigers. I directed one of his villagers to give him the information when he returns.”

  “He was hunting tigers?” Ying said. “And you didn't go find him? We are on a tiger hunt of our own, Captain Yue.”

  Captain Yue sighed. “It would take days to find the Governor in this forest, sir.”

  Ying popped his knuckles, one at time. “You could have tried looking for smoke from a campfire.”

  “I did, sir. I already thought of that. But we only saw smoke from one campfire, and it was at midday.”

  “And you didn't investigate?” Ying asked.

  Captain Yue looked bewildered. “No, of course not,” he said. “Tiger hunters hunt during the day, Major Ying. They don't build their fires until their evening meal. Everyone knows that.”

  “FOOL!” Ying shrieked. “Who do you suppose might build a fire in the middle of the forest in the middle of the day?”

  Captain Yue leaned back in his saddle. “I'm sorry, sir. I don't know.”

  “Perhaps a young monk who spent some time in a water barrel might build a fire to dry out his clothes? IDIOT!”

  Ying leaped forward with his arms spread wide like a bird of prey. In midair, he pivoted his waist and cocked his right leg back, preparing to unleash his fury upon Captain Yue. But Captain Yue's stallion sensed what was coming. The horse reared up on its hind legs and pawed wildly at the air with its wickedly sharp front hooves. Ying immediately pulled up short on his attack and floated back to earth. As soon as he hit the ground, he raced around to the backside of the horse and jumped again. But once again the horse sensed what Ying was doing. At just the right moment, the horse let loose a vicious kick with both back legs. Ying twisted sideways, barely escaping permanent injury. He landed on his feet and took a step back, glaring at the horse.

  Someone shouted, “Major Ying!”

  It was Tonglong. Ying kept his eyes glued to Captain Yue's horse and spoke sharply without turning around.

  “Tonglong! What are you doing back already? Are all my leaders incompetent?”

  Tonglon
g trotted forward atop his own stallion. “I have returned because my mission is complete,” he replied.

  “Ha!” Ying jeered, turning to face Tonglong. “Captain Yue said that very same thing! But he has proven himself to be an idiot who can't follow simple instructions. What you claim is impossible. It should have taken you several days, not one.”

  Tonglong patted his horse's thick black neck. “I have the fastest stallion in all China,” he said. “Besides, I didn't have to go all the way to the Emperor's palace.”

  Ying's eyes narrowed. “Don't you dare tell me you didn't speak with the Emperor directly?”

  “Of course I spoke with him directly,” Tonglong replied. “The Emperor happened to be on a hunting trip in our direction. The Emperor is most pleased with your success, Major Ying.”

  “Success? Our job isn't finished! Nothing seems to get finished around here. Now leave me be so that I can finish off this horse. At least one thing will have been accomplished today.”

  Captain Yue coughed. His horse snorted.

  Tonglong adjusted his long braid. “Sir, if I may be so bold—I succeeded in completing my mission well beyond expectations. Perhaps this is accomplishment enough for all of us for one day. Please, don't kill the horse. You know that horses are worth their weight in gold out here. Especially the horse before you. It's a real fighter. I suggest you have Captain Yue take it out of your sight if it has offended you in some manner.”

  Ying looked sideways at Tonglong and grunted. Then he turned to Captain Yue's horse. It reared up once more. Ying spit on it and backed away.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Ying spotted movement through the open compound gate. Across the grassy expanse, a single leaf fluttered on a bush near the tree line. There was no breeze.

  “Come ON!” Fu said to the tiger cub. “The sun will be setting soon.”

  The cub didn't budge. It stared up the well-worn trail.

  Fu grunted. “We've got to keep moving. I know you're exhausted, but we spent far too much time napping.”

  The cub stuck its nose high into the air.

  “Why are you being so arrogant? If you …” Fu's voice trailed off. He smelled it, too. Garbage. And garbage meant humans.

  The cub's nose recoiled.

  “Let's go!” Fu whispered. “I know it stinks, but maybe we'll get lucky and there will be some fresh table scraps or something. I'm starving.”

  The tiger's ears suddenly perked up. And then Fu heard something, too. Voices. The cub growled.

  “Shhh!” Fu said. He moved off the trail.

  Fu took a few steps toward the voices and looked over his shoulder to see the cub still sitting on the trail. Staring straight at him, the cub blinked three times, then it turned and walked back the way they had come.

  Fu sighed. He was disappointed, but he understood. The cub wanted nothing to do with the hunters they were tracking. He would miss the cub. He hoped he would see his new blood brother again.

  Fu adjusted his robe and got down on his hands and knees. He felt a draft on his backside, and his head slumped. What did I ever do to deserve this? Fu thought. He adjusted his torn pants as best he could and crawled off through the underbrush, following his nose.

  After a few moments, Fu reached one side of an enormous pile of waste. The voices were on the other side. The pile was five times as big as the one at Cangzhen, and it stank a hundred times worse. At Cangzhen, the bulk of their pile was vegetable trimmings. Fu wondered what had been discarded on this one. He doubted he could stomach eating anything that had been left there, no matter how clean the scraps appeared to be.

  Fu kneeled down behind a large tree, holding his nose as two men carried on a conversation on the opposite side of the pile. One of them took a bite out of something. It sounded like an apple.

  “What a shame it is to waste all this fine food,” the man mumbled, his mouth full. “But what else can we do? He told us to dump it, so we've got to dump it. I'm not about to argue with him.”

  “Nor I, nor I,” said the second man. “Dump it, dump it.”

  Fu sat straight up. He poked his head around the tree.

  “Yeah,” said the first man, chomping away, “there's no point in making him feel any worse. If I were him, I'd have canceled the celebration, too. Imagine, your only son attacked by a vicious killer monk for no reason. And on top of everything else that's already happened.”

  “Yes, yes,” replied the second man. “So true, so true.”

  The first man swallowed, then took another bite. “It couldn't have happened to a nicer boy, either,” he mumbled. “They say he's now deaf in that ear. Can you imagine?”

  “What a shame, what a shame,” said the second man.

  Fu's eyes widened. He crept out from behind the tree and approached the back side of the pile.

  “Yes, it certainly is a shame,” said the first man, swallowing. “You don't suppose this killer monk is a friend of that Major Ying? I heard he was once a monk, too, and I know for a fact he's the most evil creature to walk our countryside in generations.”

  “You never know, you never know,” said the second man.

  “I bet they're friends. This killer monk is probably trying to make a name for himself, just like that Major Ying has. What is this world coming to? I would do just about anything to stop that Major Ying. He's a villain if I ever saw one.”

  “Indeed, indeed.”

  Fu's face flushed. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He eased his way around the garbage pile.

  “Well, are you ready to help me dump this?” the first man asked. “Or are you going to just stand around all day jabbering? I've got things to do and—”

  Fu approached the men. He had to say something.

  The first man twitched, dropping his apple. It landed in a large cart overflowing with food. “Who …who …who are you?” he asked, staring at Fu's orange robe.

  Fu glanced at the cart, then looked the man in the eye. “I am Fu.”

  “F-F-Fu?” the man replied nervously. “That's Cantonese, right? Doesn't it mean ‘tiger'?”

  “Yes,” Fu replied.

  “You're a t-t-tiger?”

  “Sometimes,” Fu said. “Other times I'm a regular person. A person who makes mistakes. I have made a mistake, and I've come to apologize. Don't be nervous.”

  Fu's eyes wandered back to the cart, then he looked at the second man. The man shuffled his feet.

  Fu cleared his throat. “I am the monk who attacked the boy, but I am not a vicious killer, and I'm not a friend of Ying's. I can prove it.”

  “That's okay! That's okay!” said the second man, backing away.

  “I'm not going to harm you,” Fu said. He raised his empty hands above his head. “Please listen. I attacked the boy and the hunters in the forest out of anger. I was angry that they killed a mother tiger. I made a big mistake by hitting the boy, and I've come to apologize. If you would be so kind as to take me to him, I would be very grateful. So grateful that I'll share a secret with you. Not only am I not a friend of Ying's, but I also want to stop him. And I have just thought of a plan to do it. You see, I have something that he wants very badly. We could use it as bait to set a trap. What do you think?”

  The second man didn't respond. Fu turned to the first man.

  “Aaah … people don't usually let me think around here,” the first man said. “The Governor, on the other hand—he is very good at thinking. Why don't my friend and I go get him? You can wait here. I've noticed you eyeing the food. Why don't you have some? Have it all, in fact. We were just going to dump it, anyway.”

  Fu leaned toward the cart and his mouth watered. “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. Take your time. Enjoy. It will be a little while before we find the Governor and bring him here. Relax. I only wish I had some drink to offer you.”

  “You are too kind,” Fu said in his most polite voice. “Please don't fret about the drink. You already do me too many favors. I will wait here for your return.”


  “Good idea, good idea,” the second man said, nodding. “We'll be back, we'll be back.”

  The two men turned and walked swiftly toward the village.

  Fu strutted up to the cart, proud of himself. He'd handled himself like a perfect gentleman and look what it had gotten him! A fine meal and a meeting with the Governor. What luck! Who would have guessed the Governor lived in this very village? If he could win the favor of the Governor, the Gentleman and his son would be sure to forgive him. Plus, if the Governor felt the same way the two villagers did about Ying, he could ask the Governor to help him set a trap.

  As Fu reveled in his good fortune, he began to think about the tiger cub. He wished it had stayed with him. They could be enjoying this food together right now.

  Fu rummaged through the cart, and his heart leaped. It was filled with delicacies he rarely encountered: beef, pork, lamb, duck, goose, fish, and, best of all, chicken. Buddhist monks were normally not allowed to eat any type of meat, but the warrior monks of Cangzhen had been granted special permission by a powerful emperor hundreds of years earlier. Still, it was rare when any type of meat made its way onto the Cangzhen dining table. Fu dug in.

  Quite some time passed, and Fu had finished nearly half the food in the cart when he heard a twig snap behind the pile. Could that be the cub? he wondered. It had to be! The villagers would have come from the other direction. Fu was so excited, he nearly dropped the whole roast chickens he held, one in each hand. Engorged, he waddled around the pile to share his good fortune. Fu kept one eye on the tree line looking for the cub and the other on the two slippery chickens. He should have kept both eyes on the tree line. By the time Fu saw the net, it was too late.

  “What do they feed it?” the boy asked his mother.

  “I have no idea,” she said.

  “Well, they put it in a cage built for a tiger, right? So maybe they feed it chickens. I heard all tigers love chicken.”

  “He's a monk, dear. Monks don't eat meat.”