TBML 19

Was Ja-oh trying to exact revenge on the human in the black tiger’s place? Struck once by the tiger, the crow grew more unruly, as though offended that a mere crow had been hit. If he could have, he would’ve jabbed his beak into the unconscious Yeon’s throat without hesitation.

The crow’s endless tantrum grew so tiresome that the tiger didn’t even bother lifting a paw anymore. Instead, he began waving his tail back and forth like a fan. He swept it widely across Yeon’s face to block Ja-oh’s pecking, stirring the air until the man’s black eyelashes and fine strands of hair fluttered gently—though the moment they absorbed the thickening rain, they drooped under the weight like dew-soaked leaves.

When the black tiger sat squarely in front of Yeon and didn’t budge, Ja-oh, who had been throwing a fit, eventually wore himself out. Like a mynah bird repeating the same line—Leave him here, let him die, just leave him be—he went on and on, then finally gave up and fell silent.

Once the crow’s squawking stopped, the sound of raindrops hitting the piled leaves on the ground and the faint breaths of the fallen human at last became audible.

The black tiger twitched his small, soft ears in rhythm with the slow pulse. Compared to his own low, rumbling breath, the sound was tiny. Focusing on that fragile rhythm, the tiger began syncing his breathing to the human’s heartbeat.

A heartbeat much slower and thinner than his own—quiet, drawn-out signs of life. The tiger found himself slowly relaxing in time with that rhythm.

When it seemed Ja-oh had finally abandoned the idea of bothering Yeon, the tiger gave him a listless glance as the crow hopped about the fallen leaves. Then, as though a mountain exhaled, the tiger let out a long sigh and sank to the damp ground. The steady rain had soaked his fur through, and even Yeon’s dirt-stained clothing was washed clean by the downpour.

The tiger quietly watched as Yeon’s body grew drenched.

As his entire body became soaked, a new worry crept in: the human wasn’t waking. In the wild, body heat was a vital thing. The tiger knew this not from being taught, but because it was ingrained deep in him—passed down through instinct from his mother.

Yeon, already pale as snow, was growing even paler. His lips had turned a sickly blue. Worried now, the tiger cautiously prodded the man’s soft body with a broad paw, claws carefully sheathed. He worried that if Yeon did wake, the sight of a tiger’s face might make him faint all over again—but there was no way for the tiger to know such things.

After peering down at the man in hesitation, the black tiger slowly shifted his massive body, scooting his broad hindquarters right up against Yeon’s waist. Like a cat curling up on a warm hearth, the tiger carefully curved his huge frame, wriggling closer so the human might feel a little warmth.

He briefly considered just sitting right on top of Yeon—that would be easier. But the man’s soft body would probably be crushed under his weight. Torn between options, the tiger fidgeted, shifting his body this way and that. Just then, he sensed someone watching.

It was Ja-oh, who’d stopped hopping and now stood still, staring at the squirming tiger with what looked like pure disdain. When their eyes met, the black tiger growled low in his throat and stood up abruptly, tail stiff. Wet leaves stuck to his body, fluttered loose, and rained down onto Yeon’s body.

The tiger paused for a moment, thinking. Then he began sweeping the leaves with his paw, pushing aside the thick layer on the ground. After a few swipes, the leaves had covered the pale human. To an outsider, it might’ve looked like the tiger was burying him.

Before long, Yeon was hidden beneath a thick blanket of autumn leaves. Each time he exhaled, the leaf-covered mound rose slightly, then fell again. The tiger sat a short distance away, carefully watching the heap he’d made. As if guarding a wound, he stayed beside the man. And slowly, as sleep began to tug at him, the tiger blinked and let out a low, drowsy rumble.

Had he dozed off for a moment? Something soft and feathery smacked the tiger’s face.

Startled, he shook his head, damp fur puffing out, and snapped awake. Ja-oh was clinging to the back of his neck, gripping tight with his claws, trying not to be flung off. The tiger winced—Ja-oh’s talons hurt more than the wounds left by the leopard.

Rising with a face full of grumpy annoyance, as if to say, What’s the big fuss now? the tiger looked over. Ja-oh gestured with a jerk of his head and pointed his beak at the human.

“…Ugh…uh…”

Yeon’s face, ghostly pale, contorted with pain, and a strangled moan escaped his lips. As he stirred, seemingly on the verge of waking, Ja-oh squawked in alarm, leapt off the tiger, and flew up into the trees.

The beating of his wings startled the tiger, who also jumped, vanishing into the underbrush. They’d both hidden quickly, but neither had run far. From where they crouched in silence, masked by the sound of rain, both tiger and crow could observe the slowly waking human.

A moment later, the man’s eyes cracked open. He shifted slightly, then, the very instant he regained awareness—he began to sob, just as the young black tiger had, long ago, beneath his mother’s lifeless body.

The sun had set during the tiger’s nap, and twilight had begun to settle. But to the black tiger’s eyes, everything remained clear.

He watched Yeon writhe in pain, push aside the leaf blanket he’d made, and cry silently—rain streaming down his face from his dark eyes like falling beads. The tiger observed it all with the keen focus of a predator.

The moment he came to, the cold, the pain, the fear, the shock of surviving death—everything struck at once. His shoulders curled in, his body trembled. He couldn’t stop sobbing. His breath hitched, his wet hair clung to his face, and every little tremor, every tear-brushing hand, was reflected in the glowing yellow eyes hidden in the dark.

***

Heavy raindrops pounded against his eyelids. As though urging him to wake, the sky’s persistent touch struck his face, making Yeon’s thin eyelids flutter before his dark eyes finally opened.

Gasp!

The moment his eyes blinked open, Yeon let out a deep breath, like a mermaid surfacing from the water. Before his mind fully returned to him, he reflexively tried to rise, his body springing into action like an arrow shot from a bow.

Or rather, he tried to rise. As soon as he attempted to push his limbs against the deep pile of fallen leaves, a pained groan escaped his lips, and the strength drained from his body, sending him back into the embrace of the leaves.

The dampness, the cold, and the intense pain that battered his entire body greeted him first. Slowly, as the chill of clenched teeth and the searing pain began to settle in, Yeon started to grasp the situation, and his mind began to function once more.

Frantically, he looked around. Through the dense trees, the sky was thick with clouds, and it was impossible to tell whether the sun had set or the moon had risen. Every now and then, the dark sky peeked out between the clouds, but the world around him remained shadowed.

I almost died.

Lying there facing the downpour, the thought crossed his mind. And before the raindrops on his face could reach him, hot tears began to fall down his cheeks. He really had almost died.

The last image that remained in his memory before losing consciousness was of the leopard leaping out from between the deer and charging at him. That image was etched vividly into his mind, like a masterpiece painted by a great artist. Then came the world spinning wildly, with inverted trees and the loss of any sense of direction, followed by the painful thud as something heavy struck his head.

Shivering, his pale lips trembled as he exhaled, a soft moan escaping. The cold was worse than the pain itself. He couldn’t tell how long he had been unconscious, how long he had been lying in the rain, in the autumn mountain. The blanket of leaves over his body seemed to offer some warmth, but even so, he was still cold.

With a muffled groan, Yeon managed to lift his torso. The added pain and cold made him wrap his arms around himself, huddling tightly for a brief moment to endure.

Wiping his tear-soaked eyes, Yeon tried to get a sense of how far he had fallen, trying to gauge where he was now lying. All he saw were trees, bushes, red and yellow leaves, and the darkness closing in.

A perfect stranding. Yeon understood the situation clearly, but his body, still unsteady, could not be as composed. In this dark, rainy autumn mountain, with a wild beast on his tail and injury to his body, acknowledging that he was stranded here, alone, brought with it a wave of terror that eclipsed even the pain or chills.

It wasn’t just fear of death—no, it was much worse. There were plenty of beasts in this dark forest, including the leopard he had just encountered, and any of them could harm him. He was alone now in this mountain, left to face whatever came.

The tears didn’t stop, flowing from his black eyes in streams of panic.

Instead of wondering why the leopard hadn’t continued chasing him or where exactly he was, Yeon felt a brief sense of relief in just being alive. But that relief was fleeting, as soon as he tried to rise again, a sharp pain shot up his spine and down his legs, making him scream out in agony.

The high-pitched scream cut through the rain, silencing the owl and insects in the distance. As the world fell into stillness, the pain became even more pronounced. Now fully aware, his terrified body reacted more sharply to every sensation.

With tear-filled eyes, Yeon looked down at his legs. The forest was dark, and his lower half was buried beneath the leaves and soil, making it hard to see. His body ached all over, but the pain from earlier felt much more intense. It almost seemed like his leg could be broken, or worse.

Usually one to hide his pain, Yeon’s sensitive body now responded to every movement, making him acutely aware of every ache.

Tears still streaming down his face, Yeon cautiously began to move his fingers one by one. Thankfully, his arms seemed to function without issue, unlike the intense pain wracking his body.

Once he confirmed that his hands were fine, Yeon began to worry about his legs, which were buried in the leaves. Carefully, he started removing the leaves covering his legs, fearing the worst—whether his limbs might be shattered like broken branches.