TBML 18

The crow landed squarely on the black tiger’s head, but it didn’t fold its wings right away. Instead, it flapped them as if smacking the tiger’s head with each beat. With eyes blacker than the darkened forest around them, the crow blinked slowly and stared at the human the tiger had rescued.

Rumble— a sound like a tiger’s growl rolled through the sky. The thick scent of the old leopard’s blood gradually faded, replaced by the damp stench of soaked earth.

Tap.

Drip-drip-drip.

A splash of cold water poured onto the pale face. The rain, falling fast now, washed away the dirt and debris scattered across the delicate face. As though trying to rouse the unconscious man, the rain pelted his weary features, but the thin eyelids barely twitched, trembling faintly over his dark pupils.

As the grime washed away, scratches were revealed on the face, pure as a lily of the valley. And the wounds weren’t just on his face—beneath the tattered clothes, his small body bore marks as well.

The black tiger shook its head to drive off Ja-oh, who kept slapping its face with his wings. Then he brought its snout down close to Yeon’s body. Even at this short distance, his scent was faint—only barely detectable. But now it was mingled with the smells of blood and dirt.

The tiger reassessed what it knew about humans. This one was more injured than expected. Even a deer wouldn’t lose consciousness from a tumble down a slope like this. It would’ve gotten up, shaken off, and sprinted away. Humans were more fragile than the tiger had assumed.

Caw—caw—caaawk.

Rather than backing away, the black tiger drew closer to the human, prompting the crow to flap its wings as if in dismay. But when the tiger showed no sign of retreating, Ja-oh suddenly jabbed his beak into the center of the tiger’s broad head.

Caw!

It must’ve stung—wrinkles formed across the tiger’s brow as it gave a warning growl, grrrr, like thunder rolling through the sky. But Ja-oh seemed unfazed and kept pecking furiously at the tiger’s head. He was relentless.

The black tiger swiped at its own head with a thick paw, trying to knock Ja-oh off. Quick to evade, the crow opened his wings and dropped to the ground. Now, like a chicken pecking at feed, he started jabbing at the tiger’s foot.

Eventually, the tiger had enough. It pinned the crow to the ground with its heavy paw. Ja-oh’s glossy black feathers flailed against the forest floor. Flapping his wings like a broom sweeping through leaves, he finally broke free. He busied himself with fixing his ruffled feathers and went quiet at last.

The black tiger slowly paced around the still-unconscious Yeon, studying him. With each thick raindrop that slid across Yeon’s face, a pale sheen gleamed where water had carved a path.

The tiger lowered its nose to that white face. Its whiskers, stiff as needles with tension, brushed the young man’s cheek. It sniffed. The smell of dry leaves, soil, wet rainwater, and blood filled its nostrils.

“Blood.”

To the black tiger, the scent of blood was usually something that drifted across the mountains—rich, enticing, enough to make saliva pool in its mouth. But this blood was different. The smell clinging to this defenseless human didn’t stir the same hunger. It couldn’t say there wasn’t any saliva at all, but it wasn’t overwhelming. More than “Looks tasty,” the tiger found itself thinking, “Is he alright, smelling of this much blood?”

Like a healer inspecting a patient, the black tiger sniffed all over the fallen human’s body to find the source of the bleeding.

Then, gathering its four paws neatly beneath it, the tiger sat in front of Yeon and stared at his face. The leopard’s scent, which had crept into its territory, was now long gone, but the human was still unconscious, and the autumn rain had begun to fall in earnest.

What to do with this helpless human?

Leaving him here wasn’t an option. The autumn rain was far too cold, and this man was more fragile than expected. And there were too many beasts in the mountains that would see him as easy prey. But carrying him to the tiger’s den? That felt wrong.

It had saved the small human—but only just. Nothing more. The black tiger let out a low, muddled sound, confused by the strange, tangled feeling inside.

The man was a contradiction. If he really was a ruthless hunter, then he should’ve acted the part from beginning to end. So why had he saved the tiger, time and again?

Though, the tiger sitting there with its chin propped on its paws and staring at the man wasn’t much different.

Why had it saved this human?

There had been dozens of chances to leap and tear out his throat. But it hadn’t. Not then. Not now. He was unconscious, wounded—a single bite would end it.

Every time the tiger passed up the chance to end the small human’s life, Ja-oh would ask, “Why?” pecking at its head in protest. And every time, the tiger would grumble, annoyed, unable to answer.

The tiger stared at Yeon. Judging that he wouldn’t be waking anytime soon, it didn’t leave. Instead, it sat down, flopped heavily in front of him. It had no intention of taking the man with it, but neither did it want to kill him. So it chose the middle path.

It would stay, just a little while. Just until the man began to stir, to grab hold of a thread of consciousness. When he did, the tiger would flee into the underbrush without a trace.

That was the plan, the tiger decided, as it calmly licked the blood from its own wounds—marks left by the leopard’s claws. Fortunately, they were shallow. In a couple of days, it wouldn’t even feel the sting.

—Youuuu should’ve just left him. Why’d you save him?

That drawn-out voice echoed in the tiger’s mind. Ja-oh, now done preening his feathers, climbed smoothly onto Yeon’s body. His skinny black feet hopped along the dirtied cloth. Soon he was pecking at Yeon’s head, tugging strands of his hair with his beak.

The tiger ignored the crow’s antics and kept licking its wound, surveying the area. Scattered all around were Yeon’s wooden pack, the deer carcass, and the long stick that spat fire—what seemed to be his matchlock.

While Ja-oh took out his strange frustrations on the unconscious Yeon, the black tiger rose to its feet and began gathering the man’s scattered belongings, placing them beside him one by one.

It was a thoughtless act, merely because the tiger had noticed the items around. But once he had finished arranging them, it looked too deliberate—too much like saying, “I’ve neatly put everything in order.” Feeling awkward, the tiger pawed at the pile again, scattering the items just enough to make it seem less intentional. Ja-oh, who had been watching quietly, fluttered his wings again.

—Why are you helping him? He’s human!

To Ja-oh’s nagging, the black tiger shook its head and let out a sigh.

“Stop asking already.”

—You gave him food last time too! Why! Why! Why!

Ja-oh dredged up the time last winter when the tiger had dropped off a pheasant for Yeon, who hadn’t left his home for days. As the crow flapped his wings dramatically over Yeon’s head, his feathers slapped against the man’s face. Worried that the small human might wake, the tiger hunched its body and snapped at Ja-oh.

“The human has to eat to stay alive—how else would he come back to the mountains?”

Maybe Ja-oh, despite his sharp tongue, was still immature—his body grown but never truly raised by a mother. He tilted his head from side to side, clearly baffled, as he looked at the tiger.

The black tiger gave its body a good shake. Thick winter fur, already grown for the coming cold, scattered in soft tufts through the air.

Caw—caw! Caw!

—This human doesn’t need to come to the mountains! Just kill him now!

“Noisy bird.”

The tiger slapped its tail against the ground. Though annoyed by the crow’s words, the tiger couldn’t exactly say he was wrong. With no rebuttal, he lashed out in frustration instead.

Just as Ja-oh said, if the man had starved to death that day, it would’ve been as easy as flipping a hand. And now, if the tiger hadn’t stepped in, he would’ve ended up in the old leopard’s belly. The tiger asked himself again:

“Why did I save him?”

Because he owed him something for saving his life? But no—if one were to tally things up, they’d probably broken even. Each had reached out in turn. No, the man had killed its mother—what good were debts and balances in the face of that?

Even so, why did he save him?

No answer came. Only the image of Yeon’s rain-soaked face, when the tiger had taken human form and the man had looked at him and said, “Just hold on a little longer.” The memory surfaced without reason. He should’ve hated him—he was, after all, the one who’d killed it mother. But somehow, he didn’t.

The black tiger lifted his head and gazed up at the sky, where the rain fell heavier with every moment. Everything in the forest would die someday anyway. Trees died. And countless lives were probably dying even now beneath the very ground it stood on.

The strong devouring the weak—that was the law of nature. The man and his fire-spitting stick were strong. Its mother’s death was just another part of that natural order. Just as the tiger and the leopard hunted weaker beasts, humans did the same. It was like a natural disaster. When a mountain collapsed, or the earth split and swallowed people whole, who would blame the mountain, the earth?

There was no need for vengeance. And if revenge were truly a law, then every life the tiger had devoured should be lining up behind him, waiting their turn to bite its throat. The truth was, it didn’t hate Yeon that much. Nor did it feel overwhelming sorrow over its mother’s death. And yet, it had used the excuse of revenge to follow this human around like a stray pup.

It could’ve broken the man’s neck anytime it wanted. But instead, it roamed the forest watching his every move, finding quiet amusement in it—just as one might while watching a small rabbit hop about.

Why couldn’t it kill this man?

The question dug deep into it. If he asked this human why he’d saved a young tiger that day, would he be able to find his own answer in return? He suddenly wondered.

“Enough.”

The black tiger flicked a paw and swatted Ja-oh, who was still tormenting Yeon. The crow, too caught up in plucking strands of the man’s hair, was smacked clean off and crashed into the fallen leaves.