A CAT...
No one had seen fit to inform me it would be hot.
The sun was baking down on us. Fields of grass surrounded us, open air above us. My arms were itching from the graze of grass stalks. My jacket was looped around my waist. The exposed skin was burning in the sun but it was too warm to cover.
The heat was almost as stifling as the silence.
Lennon T. James led us. He walked in front, fast and steady, and I made an effort to stay right behind him. My job was to write a narrative about him — not about passing out from heatstroke and dying because no one cared enough to revive me. In order to reach my objective, I had to stay close to the adventurer.
Note: Lennon T. James is immune to the sun.
From what I could see, the man wasn't out of breath or sweating. He seemed comfortable, was whistling, and would only turn around to make sure we were still in sight.
Behind me, Gino Morton was keeping up easily. He was a constant presence on my left side, would offer me encouragement, and then would turn around to reassure Mitch. She was severely out of breath.
Borys Nattaniel was behind her, hand on his sword. He, also, didn't seem to be having a hard time. But he'd shed as many layers as he could without showcasing skin, and he was a soldier. He could march, for Lady Fate's sake.
Ella Switkoskie was walking by herself. If Lennon T. James stopped whistling, one could hear her humming a tune. She was almost skipping. Her feet faltered every now and again and her whole body would tense when that happened, as if she was remembering something.
Finally, Wade Lyong was our straggler.
He was breathing so hard, there was no room for his commentary or snide remarks. His hair looked wet from where I stood, flopping over to the side as the sun melted the product from his hair. His skin was almost as red as mine.
We'd been walking for hours. Arriza was far behind us.
Confession: My shoulders were sore, my back was aching, and I was very, very hungry. My throat was drier than the desert north of Arriza.
I prayed for a breeze. I pleaded for intervention.
There was a rustle in the grass ahead.
My gaze sharpened and I carefully surveyed the area around us. Lennon T. James was whistling, walking backwards as he assessed our group's position. Gino Morton and Mitch had fallen a bit back.
There was another rustle and my neck pricked.
Something had their eyes on me.
I couldn't help it. My feet stumbled into a quicker pace, trying to catch up to the explorer that carried at least two weapons on his person. I never reached him.
I saw but a shadow before a weight crashed into me. The growl wrapped around my throat and clogged it. The ground knocked the breath out of my lungs — and the weight on my chest kept it from inflating again. Someone was screaming, someone was yelling, and I heard Mitch's "Shae!" clearly.
"SHIRKA!"
My ears were ringing. Something hot and rough and wet scraped over my face, tracing a path from my chin to my forehead. I couldn't open my eyes. From fright, from pain, I didn't know.
"Shirka! Get off her!"
The voice was almost unrecognisable. It was harsh and affectionate, and loud. Lennon T. James had a soft steady voice.
I rolled to my side when the weight disappeared. Gasping for air, scrabbling for control over my emotions, I finally breathed. My head snapped up and my gaze collided with two amber eyes.
My mouth fell open from shock. Shivers ran beneath my skin, numbing my limbs and freezing my nerves. I couldn't move if I wanted to.
The eyes were set in a striped, furry face. A white nuzzle surrounded a triangular pink nose and long, white whiskers. Ears, round and soft, twitched. Tiger.
"Shirka, you scared her." Lennon T. James crouched next to the creature. His large hands slipped over her black and white fur. "What are you doing here?"
She purred. It was low and loud, vibrating around my quivering heart.
His voice was not unkind as he said, "Shae, sit up, please."
I did so, slowly, hesitatingly.
Lennon T. James held onto Shirka. "I apologize. She usually waits for me at the border." He beckoned me with a wave. "Come closer."
Amber eyes watched as I shifted closer. The smell of grass was strong, my skin itched, and my breathing was unsteady. I couldn't hear much besides the uneven beat of my heart.
Confession: I was terrified.
"Hello." It was the only word I could think of.
Lennon T. James took my hand and placed it on the tiger. 'Shirka' purred louder, standing up and rubbing her head against my hand. Similar to a housecat. A very large housecat that could kill a giant if it so wished.
My throat couldn't swallow very well. Of Lennon T. James, I asked, "Is it safe?"
"She's mine." He awkwardly patted my shoulder. "Are you hurt?"
"No." My attention was fixed on the tiger, both hands now sliding over her fur. It was silky, fluffy. She came closer, rubbing against my legs, and I let out a small laugh.
At this point, the group had convened a safe distance away.
Lennon T. James walked over to them, Shirka keeping an eye on her master as she stayed with me. When I made a move to stop petting her, she would let out a small growl until I started again. My fingers trembled. I wouldn't stop for fear of retaliation.
The adventurer was talking to the group. I couldn't hear the conversation.
Gino Morton had his gun in his hands. Nattaniel had a hand on Mitch's arm, as if to stop her from running away. Or, I spotted the knife in her hand, he was making sure she didn't attack someone.
I couldn't see Wade Lyong or Ella Siwatskie.
The group gradually migrated closer to where I stood, still afraid to move less the tigress becomes upset with the lack of attention. She was watching the other humans with curiosity. As I watched the twitch of her whiskers and the movement of her irises, I almost believed she was capable of intelligent thought.
"Shirka!" Lennon T. James called, beckoning her closer. She gave my hand a lick and padded towards him, her feet barely rustling the crushed grass beneath them.
Note: Lennon T. James has a pet tigress.
I felt the tension seep out of me, and almost collapsed from relief and the absence of adrenaline. Hands on my knees, hair coming undone, I watched the group.
Lyong had once again appeared. He was behind Gino and Nattaniel, peering over their shoulders at the tigress. Black eyes darted between the wild beast and its human friend.
"When you said you missed your cat, I always assumed it was short, grey and fat." Lyong's voice seemed a bit higher than normal.
Mitch's knife had disappeared. "Will she attack?"
Lennon T. James shook his head, fingers slipping behind Shirka's ears. Her tail twitched and curled. Though she seemed comfortable, no one could mistake her for anything other than a predator. The awkwardness had now shifted to tense anxiety.
"How could you forget to inform us you have a tiger?!" Wade Lyong was unfamiliar to her and, at the raised voice of a stranger, Shirka let out a fierce growl and got to her feet.
Gino Morton raised the gun.
"Shoot my tiger, Gino, and you won't make it out of this adventure alive." Lennon T. James' hand was still settled on Shirka's head. "We need to continue moving if we intend to reach the jungle tomorrow."
"Tigers are wild animals, Jamie. You can't control it anymore than you can promise we will live to see the other side of the jungle." Lyong had started lecturing his friend, and besides the awkwardness intensifying, his words felt severely out of place.
We needed to keep moving. This open veld was hot. Besides, if we wait any longer to begin the adventure, the train passes would expire before we could use them again.
Lennon T. James set out, leading us with the tigress at his side, ignoring his friend's words.
"If you leave it for so many months at a time, how do you know it doesn't eat human flesh?"
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