Free Tiger by Jeff Stone Page A

quickly checked the folds of his robe, which had loosened during the fighting. To his relief, all four scrolls were still there. Wiping the newly formed sweat from his brow, he stood, feeling a stinging sensation on his backside. He had just made sure that his face wasn't infected, but perhaps his other cheeks were. His butt really hurt. Tigers were notorious for having rotten flesh embedded in the undersides of their claws, and anything they scratched was highly susceptible to infection. Fu struggled as he had earlier to see around himself in order to assess the damage. Finally, he decided to use the reflective properties of the water to aid him. He waded out into the pool a little ways and squatted, trying to get a better look. In the midst of his efforts, he heard a rustling in the undergrowth near one edge of the pool. Taken by surprise, Fu slipped on a moss-covered stone and splashed down in the pool.
    In an effort to remain as inconspicuous as possible,Fu rolled over onto his stomach and lay motionless with only his bald head visible above the waterline. A slight movement in the brush caught his eye. He strained to make out exactly who was spying on him. It turned out to be the tiger cub.
    “What are you looking at?” Fu called out angrily as he stood, certain that he would scare the cub off. Instead, the cub cocked its head inquisitively to one side, listening.
    “Look what you've made me do! My clothes didn't even have a chance to dry out from lying in that stupid barrel last night, and now the scrolls are soaked, too!”
    The cub tilted its head the other way.
    “I save your life, and this is how you thank me?”
    The cub stepped a little closer to the pool, and Fu noticed for the first time two large blotches of bright red on one of the cub's sides. Both spots were definitely blood, and they looked bad. The wounds from the spear must be deep. The cub was still bleeding. It took another step toward the pool, wobbling slightly, and lowered its head to drink.
    Watching the cub slowly lap up the water, Fu wondered what it ate. He hadn't eaten since supper the night before, and he had worked up a ferocious appetite. Now that he had quenched his thirst, he needed to find some food. Perhaps the hunters had had a camp, and maybe they had left some food there. Fu decided to take a look.
    After a little more bending and twisting, Fu feltconfident that the long scratch from the mother tiger was not infected. He stuck his backside down into the cool water and wiggled around to flush out the wound—just in case—then sloshed back onto dry land.
    Fu shivered. It was the season of Plum Blossoms, and the air was chilly. At least the days and nights would be growing warmer. If it were the season of Falling Plums, he would have nothing but colder days and very cold nights to look forward to. Fu nodded to the cub and headed back toward the clearing where he had encountered the hunters. For some reason the cub followed on its unsteady legs. Curious, Fu called to it several times, but the cub wouldn't get close to him. In fact, it lagged farther and farther behind with each step. Fu soon gave up.
    Fu made it back to the large clearing, and the cub was nowhere in sight. It must have moved on alone. Or perhaps it just didn't want to go near its dead mother in the pit. Fu decided to steer clear of the pit, too. He already had enough bad memories.
    While crisscrossing the clearing, Fu found the bag of antiseptic herbs the first hunter had mentioned. It must have fallen to the ground during their fight. He picked it up. He made a couple more passes across the clearing but found nothing more.
    Fu decided to try and locate the hunters' camp next. As he looked for tracks left by the hunters on the hard ground, he thought he heard something. No, actually it was more like he felt something. It felt likesomeone was calling him. Fu looked around, but there was no one there. Still, the feeling grew stronger and stronger. He had never felt