The Ghost Tiger's Lament

Chapter Fifteen

She did not sleep, could not sleep. The hours trickled past. The river lapped at her feet. She stared at the sky. The stars blurred. The moon cast shadows across her vision. The wind rustled by her ears. She scrambled upright and the earth shifted and swallowed her and she screamed and screamed until her voice grew hoarse and she saw the silver field, grasses softly swaying, dark tendrils reaching, and her voice was lost.

Then darkness once more, empty and still until she grew aware of dawn creeping in on her, cold and gray.

For a long time she lay there, unseeing.

Then, a flicker of shadow in the corner of her eye. She rose, this time slowly, movements wooden, and looked.

In the middle of the river stood a great scaled horse, stretching out dark leathery wings.

It turned its head, water streaming from its mane of reeds and river grass, gazing right through her with disturbingly pale eyes from a skull-like face. For a long time they watched each other. Beast and woman, spirit and mortal. Neither speaking, neither moving.

Then the horse tossed its head. Leaped into the sky, forked serpent’s tail flicking behind.

Wait, she whispered. Wait.

She took a step forward, her body suddenly light, airy. One step. Another.

The water tugged at her feet, gentle and insistent as a mother’s touch.

Though we were not born on the same day, in the same month, or in the same year...

The terrifying thing about drowning, she thought, was how quiet it was. A silent, futile struggle, and then the water simply took you.

No time to scream. No time to regret, as the waves pulled you under, swallowed you, and you sank, slowly, slowly, into the unknowable deep, light and sound fading into eternity.

She had seen the glassy eyes of those taken by river or sea, bodies forever consigned to fish. No fear, no grief, no rage. Nothing. Their faces bloated and pallid.

Another step. She could still see the dragonhorse circling overhead, a shadow against the clouds overhead. It was waiting for her. She was coming.

The water caressed her cheek. She closed her eyes.

Drifting, drifting. Like a babe in a reed basket, floating along the vastness of the ocean. Not a single living creature in sight. Nothing but waves and sky.

How could she have feared it? This tranquility. This ever-abiding calm. This world where even cold and hunger diminished to nothing. Why had she feared, when she should have embraced it?

This we swear.

I am coming. Wait for me.

Through the fog she saw two small figures. Girls. Lost. Walking hand in hand up a winding blue trail. The trees bending to protect them, the sun shining pale and dappled through a thousand branches, a thousand leaves. Deer and squirrels halting to watch these curious intruders.

The trail led to a great tomb on the mountaintop, carved into the earth, sealed with clay.

A child’s voice, ringing clear and bright across the clearing.

“Hear us, oh great lord of the mountain!”

We stand before you today not to seek your guidance, but to speak a sacred vow.

The fog crept closer, reaching out thin, ghostly tendrils. Birds of all sizes and colors perched in a ring, all watching, all silent, all waiting.

Though we were not born on the same day, in the same month, or in the same year —