Page 4

I was too young to understand what “sacrifice” meant. I didn’t know why I should be afraid of Angma. So I ignored the snake’s warning.

“Adah said for me to stay here,” I said stubbornly.

“Suit yourself,” hissed the snake. He paused. “Just don’t look into her eyes.”

He slid off the rock and disappeared.

It wasn’t long before a shadow cloaked the clove tree, and all the music of the jungle—the twittering birds, chirping insects, and rustling monkeys—was silenced.

I looked around me. A shadow darted from behind one of the bushes.

“Adah?” I called out again.

I climbed off the rock, digging my toes into the moist dirt. Tiny pebbles pricked my feet. If only I hadn’t kicked off my sandals at home!

“Adah?”

A beast purred behind me, and I whirled around. A tiger!

She moved languidly, knowing I was trapped. Even if I tried to run, she would catch up in fewer than five paces. Her powerful legs were longer than my entire body, and her fur was copper, like the statues at the Temple of Dawn, streaked with bolts of black.

There was something odd about this tiger. I had never seen one in real life before, but I had seen the sculptures in the village, the paintings and scrolls hanging in the temple. I had seen the pelts that hunters brought back to the village to sell, and they looked nothing like this tiger’s.

It wasn’t just that the tiger breathed smoke from her nostrils, or that she had sharp ivory tusks like an elephant and a sheath of ancient white hair that cascaded down her striped back. It was the glow of her fur, both dark and radiant at the same time, like shadows burning under moonlight. It made me feel cold.

“So,” rasped the tiger. Her voice was low and guttural. It reverberated against the dirt beneath me and nearly made me jump. “Your father has left you to me.”

Shadows swelled from wherever the tiger moved, enveloping me as she drew close. She smelled strong, though I could not recognize the scent. It was not of the trees or flowers or anything I had experienced before. A spice, maybe.

My eyelids grew heavy.

“You’re a bit old,” the tiger continued, sniffing me. “Your father was supposed to bring your sister. The baby.” Her shadow eclipsed me. “The pretty one.”

I rubbed my eyes, awash in sleepiness. My fear of the tiger gone, I glanced at the stone before me. Flat and smooth: perfect for taking a short nap.

The tiger roared. “Look at me, child! Where is your sister?”

I stared stubbornly at the ground. I hadn’t paid attention to the snake’s warning to run, but his warning not to look into the tiger’s eyes made sense. I disliked the way she was yelling. When Adah yelled this way, he would strike me as soon as I glanced up.

The tiger was so close now, the air quavered with her breath. She exhaled on me, a cloud of black curling smoke.

“Look at me,” she said again as I coughed. “Look at me, or I swear I will break your neck.”

Slowly, I lifted my gaze to meet hers. Her whiskers were taut and sleek, bone-white against her black-striped cheeks. Her eyes were the most vivid yellow I’d ever seen. Like the turmeric powder Mama made me eat when my stomach hurt but which only made it hurt more.

Blood trickled out of my nostrils, and I could not move. In the tiger’s eyes, my reflection showed a streak of my hair whitening at my temple. The blood from my nose turned black.

My knees buckled in fear, and behind me the snake darted out of his hiding place. He was a flicker of red, so quick I barely saw him glide toward me. He flashed his fangs, and for an instant I thought he was going to attack the tiger.

Instead, he bit me on the ankle.

His fangs sank into my flesh, into my muscle and bone. I let out a gruesome howl, one I barely recognized as coming from my lungs. All of me quaked, and hot bursts of searing pain ripped across my flesh as if I’d been lit afire.

The snake retracted his fangs, and the pain abated slightly. A wave of cold swept over me. Sweat still dribbled down my temples, but now I shivered.

I’d forgotten about the tiger. She leaned forward, laying one sharp claw on the rock, and growled at the snake. “What are you doing here?”

The snake slid forward, creating a barrier between the tiger and me. He flared his hood. “Leave her alone. She isn’t the child you’ve been waiting for.”