I was stiff and desolate as I raised up my tiger’s body and placed it in the lair. There was a small body of another cub inside. It was a female, smaller than the male beneath my coat, and still warm to touch.
I put the dead cub in my shirt folds to comfort the live cub, which nuzzled to be nearer the familiar scent. I did not disturb the lair any more. My tiger had chosen it well and it would not be found by any man, only the island’s devils.
All around, the sun polished the silver gum trunks and the peculiar air fell gritty with dust. The heat-swayed trees shimmered as I took a last glance upon my tiger’s remains. The sun’s rays fell in intricate honeycombs on my tiger, but it was not him anymore.
“Goodbye,” I whispered.
I ran on fresh limbs, my mind functioning with a clarity I had
