Jun'ai stepped into the glade. Trees with wide reaching branches cast the area in shade. A narrow trickle of water wandered through the rocks. The grass here was tall. Reeds hugged the water's edge. There was a butte of crumbling shale overlooking the creek. The shelf of rock hung over the water.
Jun'ai froze.
On the rock ledge was a hulking tiger. The cat languished. Paws draped over the edge. Its head pointed in her direction. Incisors as long as her forearms. Golden eyes starred at her from the twilight. Ears pricked forward. Alert. Attentive. But he didn't see her as a threat.
She sank to her knees. Eyes fixed on the massive predator. Her movements slow. Calibrated so as to not provoke him. She did the job she came here to do. She uncorked the water skins and filled them with fresh water from the creek.
When she filled the last one, she stood. The tiger raised his head.
Jun'ai tensed.
But the tiger only blinked and watched her as she backed slowly from the thicket of trees and out onto the savannah.
The red sun sat low in the sky, just above the distant hills.
She returned to camp.
There were four minotaurs gathered around the fire. Three were from the Kharolis mountains. One was their guide in these strange lands. She passed canteens to each in turn.
"You look troubled," Sudara said.
"I saw a tiger."
Their guide, a plains minotaur named Lakanta, looked up. "That is a powerful omen."
"What do you know of such things?" Sudara said.
Lakanta glared at the chieftain. "To see a sabretooth tiger is a sign of a coming battle. And to be left unharmed, that is a sign of a great warrior. We call such men, tiger warriors."
The group travelled south. Over the days, Sudara and Lakanta remained in tense silence. A mutual loathing. Then they began butting heads. The bickering was constant. The rivalry was tense. And the atmosphere had become toxic.
Jun'ai spent nights sharing a blanket with Sudara. During the days, she walked with Toran and Engir. They spoke of trivial matters to fill the silence and occupy their minds.
"What do you miss most from your homeland?" Toran asked her.
Without a moment's hesitation she said, "Meat."
Both minotaurs smiled. Then Engir said, "I can't imagine eating the flesh of an animal. It sounds disgusting."
"It's not your nature."
"But it is your nature," Toran said. "Killing for greed seems such a human thing to do."
She didn't rise to the taunt. Instead she shrugged. "Humans, Jackals, Lions. There are several ensouled species that eat meat."
"And our plains cousins eat meat," Engir said with a sideways glance at their guide.
"Yes. I noticed that too." Jun'ai nodded.
"What else do you think they are capable of?"
Jun'ai watched Lakanta as he strode through the tall grass. "I'm not sure. But I suggest we watch this one carefully."
"Wise words," Engir agreed.
A week out from Red Dawn they encountered another community. It was a tribe of men with the heads of gazelle. They had beautiful twisting antlers and long recurved legs. They walked with an odd grace that spoke of speed and agility. The village was a small migrant band. They lived in simple canvas yurts that they broke down and carried with them as they moved across the plains.
When they approached the perimeter, Lakanta took the lead. He spoke to them. Telling them of the need to pass through this land. They listened. Large eyes unblinking. Then wordlessly they gestured him away.
Sudara took a turn. He stepped forward and spoke of their need to catch a band of Drune. Again their unblinking eyes watched him carefully before dismissing him with a back handed wave.
Jun'ai could tell Sudara teetered on the edge. He was about to blow. The pressure that had been building ever since the attack on his village was about to erupt.
She stepped forward and put a hand on his arm. A show of support. Something to diffuse the situation.
He turned to look at her, and she knew in that moment that he was about to do something stupid that would get them all killed.
But then something unexpected happened.
One of the gazelles approached. He bent over, studied her face, sniffed her flesh. Then he turned to the others. "This one's a tiger warrior. She's been blessed."
And with that odd coincidence, they were welcomed into the village.
*
The village consisted of some two dozen round tents. Between them were ropes with colorful pennants that snapped in the wind. There were hand drawn carts laden with supplies. No beasts of burden, no livestock.
In the center clearing there was an intricately carved wooden pole. It had images carved in relief along the shaft. Scenes of battles, scenes of sex, scenes of gazelle headed men crossing mountains, and other gazelles sitting cross legged, hands raised in benediction.
Atop the pole was the carved head of a tiger. Gold foil and ebony for eyes. Ivory for teeth. The head lacquered orange and black.
That evening the travelers shared a meal with their hosts. They gathered around a fire outside the largest of the yurts and listened as an elder told a story.
"There once lived a giant who was the size of a tree and had the head of an elephant. His name was Angrath. He was a terrible monster. He would gore the men of the plains with his tusks. He did this for sport. After he killed someone he would collect a fingerbone from the body. He had all these bones strung on a necklace that he wore around his neck. It was a gruesome display. He did this to show his strength."
"Where did he come from?" One of the younger gazelles asked.
The gazelle waved his hand dismissively. "Who can answer such questions? No one lived long enough to speak to him."
The gazelle continued the story. "He had nine hundred and ninety nine bones on his necklace. And he was ready to add another. A very important one. This was number one thousand. This, he thought, would be his greatest victory. So he went searching far and wide for the perfect kill."
"He heard of a great monk, Zendru. This warrior monk was undefeated in battle. He could survive any attack without so much as a scratch. And he decided this mystic would be his ultimate prize. So Angrath travelled long and far in search of this great warrior."
"When he finally found the monk, Angrath was shocked. This is it? He thought to himself. This is the greatest warrior? You see, Zendru was a gazelle. He was nowhere near as strong as Angrath. Or a minotaur or anyone else, for that matter."
"Then how did he win?" That from another child.
The gazelle storyteller looked at her. "Angrath was about to find out. He lowered his head and charged the monk. He wanted to impale the monk on his tusk. But the monk moved so fast he was a blur of white and brown. Angrath charged right through the spot where he had been sitting a moment before."
"He went to the monk and swung his massive axe." The gazelle swung his hands in simulation of the epic battle. "And again the monk moved so fast it defied belief. One moment he was standing calm and poised, the next he was beyond the reach of the axe."
"Angrath charged the monk again. He swung his axe again and again. Each time he expected to feel the bones of the gazelle break before his blade and each time the blade cleaved nothing but air."
"This went on for days," the gazelle said. "A charge and a retreat. A swing and a miss. Eventually the great elephant warrior grew tired. He fell the ground. The whole earth trembled beneath him. He tried getting up, but he was too exhausted. He lowered his head to the ground. He was just going to rest a moment before resuming his attack on the monk. But in that moment the warrior monk used his speed to get close and make one clean slice across his attacker's throat."
"See. Zendru survived every attack without so much as a single scratch." The gleam in the storyteller's eyes told Jun'ai just what he thought of this trick.
"It was he who gave us our greatest lessons." Then he quoted. "When on the attack be like the charging elephant, strong and determined. When on the defense be like the gazelle, quick and light of foot."
He turned his head and looked straight at Jun'ai. "The sabretooth tiger stands as the perfect master of all fighting styles. Strong and fast, ferocious and liquid. When a tiger appears, he will be the harbinger of death."
*
After washing her wooden bowl, Jun'ai explored the village.
On one end of the village, separated from the other tents, exotic aromas scented the air. The flaps on both ends of the tent were open and there was a hole in the roof for ventilation.
Jun'ai crept forward and peered inside.
In the center of the room was a pair of gazelles. Both naked. The woman was sitting on the man's lap. Her head resting on his shoulder. His head pillowed against her breasts. Their eyes were closed and they were breathing slow regular breaths.
Jun'ai noticed his member was inside her. But they remained perfectly still.
A brazier of incense and a multitude of candles sat around them. There were carved wooden votive statues. A tiger headed man with a glaive. A gazelle man with robes and a staff. This was some kind of erotic meditation.
She felt as though she was intruding. So she turned to leave. And she noticed a gazelle was standing behind her.
Jun'ai gasped. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb their-" She broke off. "Whatever they are doing."
The gazelle cocked his head to one side. "Then do not speak where they can hear."
When they were out of range, she asked what she had seen.
"That is our fertility meditation. They sit in the lotus position, one atop the other, forming a complete circle. The man inside the woman. They must maintain arousal, but not succumb to their desires. This teaches them to control our sexual energies. They remain motionless in that state for one hour and focus on the physical sensations. The touch and feel of the other person. This creates greater intimacy. They do this every day for a month. Then, when they finally succumb to the act, the tension between them will be great. His seed will be very strong."
"I'll bet," Jun'ai said.
*
The five travelers sat around the embers of a dying fire.
Several gazelles took to dancing. They crisscrossed the clearing in running leaps. It appeared to be an active form of prayer to the tiger totem.
It was Lakanta who broke the silence. Much to everyone's regret. "Sudara, I would have very much liked to see you entertain my father with a dance."
Sudara glared. Jun'ai held her breath. She followed the undercurrent of the conversation as clearly as if they had spoken their thoughts aloud.
The plains minotaur laughed. "I mean no disrespect." (Of course I do) "I'm simply curious about our mountain cousins, that's all."
"There's not much I can tell you. For one, we don't ride horses." A pause. "And we don't kill for our own self gratification." (A taunt)
Now it was Lakanta's turn to glare.
"What I mean is, we do not eat meat. No offense intended." (Offense very much intended)
"And what of your warrior spirit?" Lakanta asked. "Has it grown dull and impotent living on those peaks, away from conflict?" (A challenge)
Sudara jumped to his feet. "We'll see which one of us bleeds first." (Throwing down the gauntlet)
