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I shrug. “I’m alive. I needed the practice.”
The whole forest will be nattering about this. There’s a code, you know. Already some of us don’t like that you’ve been given free rein of the island. You shouldn’t be picking fights. Especially not with tigers.
“I don’t like tigers,” I say, brushing dirt off my arm. “You know that better than anyone.”
And I don’t like man. My kin are the oldest in the jungle, descended from the great dragons themselves—until man hunted them all into hiding. But you don’t see me attacking your kind every chance I get.
I chuckle, but inside a tight pressure rises to my chest. “It’s three days until Vanna’s birthday. When the Demon Witch comes for her, I need to be ready.”
No tigress can prepare you for a match against Angma. Ukar frowns, looking as displeased as a snake can look. I could have told you that before you ruined yet another tunic and fouled the earth with your blood. I’ll have to ask my kin to clean it up.
My laugh dries up in my throat. “I’m sorry.”
No, you’re not.
I’m not, it’s true. I meant what I said about needing the practice. Reminded of the blood on my palm, I rip my sleeve with my teeth and wrap the strip of cloth around my cut. I don’t bother with a knot; the wound’s already closing.
You might be strong enough to wrestle a tiger, Channi, but you’ll need more than brawn to defeat Angma.
I know. I need Hokzuh, whoever—or whatever—he is. All these years I’ve searched, I’ve never found a trace of him.
“Was that the last tiger in the jungle?” I ask, shaking away my thoughts.
You mean, the only one left you haven’t assaulted? Ukar pauses dramatically. Yes.
I twist my lips. “That’s unfortunate.”
Ukar lets out a hiss. It’s soft and sibilant, the equivalent of a snake’s sigh. Prudence and vigilance—that’s what I’d hoped the jungle would teach you. Not a thirst for vengeance—
“It’s defense, not vengeance.”
—besides, isn’t it bad luck to hunt on your sister’s selection day?
“It’d be worse bad luck for a tiger to kill the entire village on my sister’s selection day,” I retort.
Unlikely. The tiger fed yesterday.
“How do you know that? She looked hungry.”
Tigers always look hungry. She won’t hunt for at least three days. By that time, your sister will be long gone. You wouldn’t care if the tiger ate your village then.
Always a killjoy, my best friend. I glower at him, mostly because I know he’s right. Also because I don’t need a reminder that Vanna is leaving. I don’t want one.
Heed the lesson and go home. Your father will be wondering where you are. Especially today.
“This is my home.”
You know what I mean.
I grit my teeth. Adah’s house is not my home. The jungle is.
It’s here—where I can fling off my mask and let the sun touch my cheeks, where I am surrounded by so much green that I can barely see the sky. Only here do I feel truly awake, truly alive, and truly free. Only here do I forget that I am a monster.
Ukar does not heed my impassioned thoughts. The sky is already an hour stained with light. You’ll be in trouble if he finds that you’re gone.
“I’ll get back in time to finish my chores. Besides, I’ll be the last thing on Adah’s mind this morning, what with Vanna being married off.” I grimace. Auctioned off, though no one seems to want to call it that.
I sweep tree branches aside angrily. I don’t know which sickens me more: that a dozen kings are coming for the chance to make Vanna their concubine, or that Adah’s been tinkering at his abacus all month, calculating how much he’ll make by selling her off.
