An Ember Among Shadows

Chapter Seven

"In dusk, they prepare. At midnight, they appear. In daylight, their strength is halved. That is my curse."

- Sacred Scripture, verses three to six of Sorcery.

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It was high noon when they almost got out of the forest. Since they left the river, they had been travelling for three days without any further disturbing encounter, save for a heavy storm. The trees began to thin, but walking on soft ground was still difficult. Up ahead, the ground sloped upward. Nezha searched the ground for anything to be fashioned into a walking stick. She found two and handed one to Ruqa.

"No, thank you. I'll be fine."

Nezha shrugged and climbed ahead, holding both sticks in her hands and utilising them simultaneously.

Ruqa panted. A prickling pain shot through the side of his stomach. Since he was little, he had always been susceptible to mild sickness. A cold, a fever, a cough. It felt as if he would get any of these every other month. He wasn't particularly athletic, that he admitted. Most of his exercises back in the monastery consisted of daily monastic chores, prayer and meditation, but he did work his muscles at least once a week just for some extra stamina. Still, the frequency of the sickness did not wane. And even now, he felt out of breath. Even so, he pushed it all in and ignored the tire.

Distance by distance, he tread on. The boom of a distant thunder rang in the sky, warning them of an impending storm. Before long, they came to an open trail, and by then afternoon had settled in.

"Let's stop here," Ruqa said upon observing the low sun. Throughout their travel, Ruqa had made sure to cease dependence on her sorcery. He always walked in a distance, always looked for his own food, and would always suggest camping first so that he could light the fire the mundane way. Luckily, the forest still provided them with just enough sources to survive so he had no urgent need to enlist her help.

Nezha had not talked much. She did take the liberty of making funny sounds every now and then, like mimicking a songbird or mumbling to herself. Sometimes, little trivial things bothered her. For instance, Ruqa was laying out some rocks to make a hearth when Nezha shoved him aside. "Let me do it," she said. "Your circle looks like an oval."

"What difference does it make?"

But she did not answer him. She never did. So Ruqa got up and searched for fallen twigs. He picked them up one by one, and when he had gathered enough, he turned around, only to find himself face to face with a beast.

A tiger.

The orange and black creature stood directly before him. Ruqa froze, unsure what he should do next. He could run, but that would only prompt the tiger to chase him. He scanned around, estimating an escape route. The weight of the firewood felt like a handicap to him now.

The tiger snarled, its eyes feral and calculating. The muscles under its fur rippled with every move of its burly legs. Thunder boomed above, and a light drizzle began to drop.

"There you are Ruqa. What took y — oh dear." Nezha had appeared around the corner. Her eyes widened at the sight. Wedged in one hand was her sword, the tip of the metal shone dull in the deepening night. Slowly, she unwrapped her sword and brandished it towards the tiger.

"Don't!" whispered Ruqa. He would not allow anyone to harm an animal merely reacting to its primal instinct.

Nezha pulled a face and rolled her eyes, annoyed but relented. Although she had lowered her sword, the hand that gripped it remained clenched, ready to strike at any moment.