Page 11 of Tiger's Voyage

“Miss what?”

“Hiking through the jungle with you. It’s peaceful.”

“Yeah, when we’re not running from things.”

“It’s nice. I miss being alone with you.”

“I hate to break it to you, but even now, we’re not alone.”

“No. I know that. Still, it’s more alone than I’ve been with you in weeks.” He cleared his throat. “I heard you the other night when Ren came to your room.”

“Oh. Then you know he gets sick around me. He can’t touch me.”

“I’m sorry. I know it causes you pain.”

“More like it causes him pain.”

“No. He’s only hurting physically. You’re hurting emotionally. It’s difficult to go through that. I just wanted you to know that I’m here if you need me.”

“I know you are.”

Kishan reached over and took my hand as I looked up into his golden eyes and asked, “What’s that for?”

“I wanted to hold your hand. Not everybody cringes in pain when touching you, you know.”

“Thanks.”

He smiled and pressed a kiss on the back of my hand. We walked another couple of hours in silence, holding hands the entire time. I reflected again on the differences between Kishan and Ren. Ren was always talking or writing. He liked to think out loud. He said that not communicating was the most frustrating thing about being a tiger.

In Oregon, Ren would bombard me with questions every morning. He’d answer questions I’d long forgotten and talk about things he’d been thinking about all afternoon as a tiger and couldn’t tell me.

Kishan was the opposite. He was still, silent. He liked to justbe, justfeel, justexperiencethe things around him. When he drank a root beer float, he delighted in the experience and gave 100 percent of his attention to it. He soaked in his environment, and was happy keeping to himself.

I was comfortable with both men. I could appreciate the quiet and the nature more with Kishan. But with Ren near, I was so busy talking with him and,I’ll admit, staring at him that everything else diminished.

As Suki Lake came into view, we found Ren standing at the water’s edge skipping pebbles across the surface. He turned to us with a smile and saw our clasped hands. His grin faltered briefly, but then he teased me and smiled again. “It’s about time you two caught up. You’re slower than honey in the refrigerator. I’m starving. What’s for lunch?”

I shrugged off my backpack. My shirt was stuck to my skin. I peeled it away and crouched down to unzip the pack. “What would you like?”

Ren crouched down next to me. “I don’t care. Surprise me.”

“I thought you didn’t like my cooking.”

“Nah. I like it fine. I just didn’t like all of you staring at me while I ate, expecting each bite to jar a memory. In fact, I wouldn’t mind some of those chocolate-peanut butter cookies.”

“Okay. Kishan? How about you?” I shaded my eyes and looked up at him. He was watching Ren.

“Just make me the same thing you make him.”

The brothers went off to throw pebbles across the lake and I could hear them laughing as they competed with each other. I asked the Golden Fruit to create a picnic basket for us filled with lemonade; fresh hot biscuits with butter and an assortment of jams and marmalades; a cold pasta salad with olives, tomatoes, carrots, and a lemon vinaigrette; a giant box of tangy Hawaiian BBQ chicken; and my chocolate-peanut butter cookies.

I used the Divine Scarf to create a red-and-white-checked blanket and spread it under a tree. Our picnic was ready.

“Lunch is served!” I shouted.

The brothers wasted no time. Kishan reached for the chicken, and Ren, the cookies. I smacked their hands away and handed each one a bacterial wipe.

Kishan grumbled, “Kells, I ate my food raw off the ground for three hundred years. I really don’t think a little dirt’s going to kill me.”