Tiger Bright

By Beka Gremikova

There’s a hunter in the jungle this morning. I know by the muddy paw prints, the cracked bamboo, the deep silence. No deer forage in the leaf litter, and monkeys huddle together in the trees.

Leaning against a trunk, I draw in a deep breath. My bones ache to shift, but I tamp down on the urge just a while longer, drinking in the surrounding jungle that hides my quarry: the man-eating tiger that my people call skikir—killer of men.

“Don’t go, daughter,” Mamua begged me this morning, her soft orange robes rippling like tiger skin. “Don’t risk Urambu’s fury! He’ll have you ripped apart by tigers, or enslave you…” She cradled my face with clammy hands. “You can’t use his gift in this way!”

His gift. The tree bark digs into my back like claws, and I shiver. I’m among the privileged few—the strongest, the most beautiful—in Uraku who have been gifted with shifting magic by the tiger god. It’s meant to instill an appreciation for those fierce creatures that share these jungles with us.

It’s not meant to be the means for killing them.

Focus. Don’t think on it! I lurch away from the tree, wrapping my arms around my stomach, my head bowed. At my feet, a shredded piece of bright, blood-spattered fabric pokes out from the ferns, left by the skikir’s latest victim—one of Mamua’s fellow washing women.

My entire body trembles. Poor Mamua had heard only a gurgling cry, glimpsed a tumbling mass of orange, and then both tiger and woman had vanished into the shadows. Another soul lost to the skikir that stalks the villages sprinkled among the mangroves.

Except now, I’m finally old enough—and big enough—to fight it.

Not far off, another piece of fabric slumps on the dirt. Past that, blood smears the rumpled grasses of the mangrove forest, not yet washed clean by the rains. I slip between the trees, skirting soft, miry patches of ground, until the sweet scent of fresh tiger urine assails my nostrils.

The skikir must be close. This time when my limbs ache to shift, I allow the magic to travel freely. It skims over my skin like a waterfall, stabbing me with tiny pricks of pain as bright, bristling apricot fur bursts through my pores.

And then I blink out with my tiger eyesight at a sharper but less colorful world. I spring forward, light on the pads of my paws, and drop to my belly.

A few yards away sprawls the sleepy-eyed skikir, her fangs blotched with a deep, stomach-turning maroon. Her tail twitches lazily. I lick my lips and creep forward, edging around her to attack from behind. But her eyes widen, her ears flatten, and she lurches to her feet.

She’s massive.

Don’t think about it! I surge through the underbrush, branches cracking against my face. She pivots, snarling, as I leap toward her. She swipes at me with claws extended.

I turn in the air, narrowly avoiding her swat, thankful my inborn agility has transferred to my tiger form. A roar bursts from my chest, burning through my throat.

The skikir pounces. I jump aside, but she follows, latching onto my body and crushing me to the ground. Her jaws clamp around my front paw. Pain bursts up my leg.

I roll, scrabbling my back paws against her body. My claws tear into her coat, spurting blood. I bite into whatever piece of her I can reach, snarling.

We remain locked in that battle for what feels like hours. Then, suddenly, she releases me and reels back.

Before she can spring aside, I twist around to get behind her. Launching onto her shoulders, I lock my jaws around her neck and bite. Saltiness fills my mouth, and I gag as she shudders and collapses. Dizziness sweeps away my grip on my magic. I shrink into human form and stagger away from her corpse, spitting out tufts of fur.

“You’ve killed one of my tigers.”

Shivers trail down my spine. I whirl to find Urambu, clad in black-and-orange robes, sitting by the tiger’s head. His solemn dark eyes pin me to the spot.

My fingers go numb. “I… I didn’t want to,” I choke out. “But it was killing humans!”

Urambu shakes his head, his lips curved downward. “That may be, but my tigers are endangered, human. Each one is precious to me.” His voice is as soft as a mother cat’s chuffing. He rises, and I tremble at his height and muscled form. “And it grieves me to see my gift used in this way.”

He clasps my forehead, his skin rough and calloused.

My knees knock. I’ll die without seeing Mamua again. She’ll never know I succeeded…

His grip on my forehead tightens.

I freeze, waiting for the blow.

Instead, the mangrove trees swirl in blurs of green, orange, and blood red. Magic rushes through me, prickling and uncomfortable. That once-familiar, soothing sensation of shifting now slides along my limbs and… solidifies somehow, like water turned permanently to ice.

I try to scream—but a deep, snarling yowl emerges.

Urambu strokes my ruff, surprisingly tender. “Villager, you are no longer human. Urambu’s fury has fallen.”

There’s a hunter in the jungle this morning. I can smell his desperation in the still hot air, hear his raspy breaths.

Not far away in the village, Mamua wails out my name. Her keening has echoed through the jungle since early morning, when I crept through the dappled foliage on the village outskirts to watch my own funeral. Her cries drowned out my steps—but couldn’t hide me from this man’s sharp eyes.

In his mind, I was a skikir, there to drag another soul into the blood-drenched shadows.

And he knows he must not let that happen. He must risk Urambu’s fury.

I slink into the undergrowth, certain my hunter isn’t too far behind. Certain that, oh so steadily, oh so noiselessly—

He’s coming for me.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Beka Gremikova writes and dreams from the Ottawa Valley, Ontario, Canada. Her passions include travelling, folklore and myth, and geeking out over The Legend of Zelda. Her work is featured in Havok’s Bingeworthy and Sensational anthologies as well as other collections. In 2020, she also received Havok’s “Most Prolific Author” Award. When she’s not watching anime or Youtube snake-hatching videos, she can be found curled up in a corner with a mystery novel.

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