It's Real

The trees were thick. Vine hung between them like drapes and ferns covered almost all of the forest floor. Some light filtered through the trees, but Zichri was still wary of the shadows. He never knew if he'd find a predatory animal hiding in one of them. He and several hunters crept in a weaving fashion to keep each other in sight, but also not to miss any animals that would serve to feed their tribe. It wasn't long before he spotted something on the path ahead of him. Slowing his steps, Zichri crept up on it.

A deer lay in a semi-sunny spot. A small stick snapped under his foot and the deer's head came up, ears twitching, but it never looked his way. His arrow was ready, the string tightening as he pulled back. A wild cat's call startled him and the deer fled. He was knocked to the ground, losing the arrow in the branches above him, before he could correct his aim. He reached for his knife, focusing on the creature that attacked him. But instead of a tiger, he found himself looking at a human face. His hand hovered above the handle of his blade as he took in the details of her face.

Her eyes were a golden yellow and triangles of tiger coloring covered her cheeks with the points meeting on either side of her tiger striped nose. Her hair was an orange gold that was as bright as the sun's rays. In her hair were tiger ears. Her teeth were bared. Sharp teeth that couldn't have been anything but tiger teeth. A low growl issued from her throat, but she didn't attack. Her right tiger ear moved slightly before she ran off on her two feet, disappearing into the trees.

"Zichri, are you all right?" his friend, Geran, called. "What was that?"

"I'm fine," he replied, sitting up. "I'm not sure what it was. I'm going to head back."

"Okay. Take care, Zichri."

"You, too, Geran."

His thoughts were spinning as he recalled the face. It had been Tiger in the finite details, but still human. If these were the people the Elders condemned around the nightly fire, the extensiveness of their worship was highly understated. Paint he could understand, but, ears, teeth, and eyes? Where had she come from? Did her people really live in the forest? If so, why hadn't they encountered them before now? The Zuled Tribe, the people of his village, didn't have the knowledge to create changes like those he saw for that woman. Were her people more advanced than his own? Few in his village noticed his return, but his mother certainly noticed when he entered the tepee.

"What troubles you, Zichri?" she asked.

"Nothing," he replied.

"Don't lie to your mother. You only return early from hunting when something is bothering you. Now, what is it?"

"Do you believe the stories the Elders tell about the people who paint themselves to worship the spirits?"

"I don't doubt that it is possible, though I have never met any of them. Nor do I know of anyone that has."

"I might have...seen one today," he said.

"It must have been shocking to send you home like this. Did they hurt you?"

"No, but... They stopped me from killing a deer before running off."

"That doesn't seem, too, surprising if they truly are that extreme in their worship."

Zichri nodded, not sure how to explain to his mother what exactly he saw. "I'll be back."

He went to the Elders to ask them for more information about this tribe. However, the stories they told over the fire were all they were able to tell him. They didn't know any more than that.

The hunting party returned with a few deer and several coneys. The young women built several fires and, with the help of the older women, began to cook the meat as the Elders gathered the children to tell them briefly of the Zuled tribe's traditions in worshiping the animal spirits before spending the rest of the time condemning the painted animal spirit worshipers. Zichri left the fireside, no longer interested in the Elder's uninformed opinions of the other tribe. The woman's golden eyes flashed in his mind as he reached his tepee. There had been something in them that he had been unable to catch before she fled. Casting the image aside with a shake of his head, Zichri retired for the night. But her golden tiger eyes burrowed into his soul all night as if trying to see what kind of man he truly was.

Waking early, he took his bow with arrows and his dagger—for defense—and entered the forest. Everything was masked in shadow and only the outlines of the closest plants could be seen. The sun was beginning to rise as he reached the spot where he had been knocked down by the tiger woman. After searching the area, he ventured further into the trees in the direction she had fled. As he continued on, he heard more animal sounds. A wild cat cry, similar to the one he heard before the woman had tackled him, came through the trees on his right.

Cautiously, he moved forward and saw a panther crouched over the body of a deer. Zichri started to leave, not wanting to attract unnecessary attention. Another wild cat call caused him to stop. He remained still, keeping the panther in sight. The panther responded and turned to face the trees. Zichri saw another human face, but the patterns on this face were different from the one of the tiger woman's face. Soon the woman with the tiger painted face walked through the trees.

The other stood as the woman reached out her hand to them. There were several places on her body where the paint was. Her only real clothing was the light brown fabric around her breasts and waist. A loud purring filled the silence as the woman's hands brushed the cheeks of the other, but it wasn't until the panther painted human turned back to the deer that Zichri saw that both of them had tails.

"How...?" he asked aloud, forgetting that he was hiding.

The tiger woman turned towards him and growled—her stance defensive. The panther picked up the deer and disappeared into the trees. The woman growled deeply while she watched the place where he hid. She cautiously inched closer, her stance shifting to be more offensive than defensive. Zichri cautiously entered the small clearing where she was and they circled the other.

"I'm not here to fight you," he said, setting down his bow. "What is your name?"

Still she growled and inched closer.

"Please, I just want to talk."

She ran at him, letting a cat cry escape her lips. He blocked her swipe, not daring to use his knife, because she was unarmed. Her nails slashed through his clothes. The tears were just like those that would be made from tiger's claws. Bad decision. Grabbing his knife, he ran at her. He didn't want to hurt her; he just wanted to know more about her. After nearly getting slashed by her claws, and nicking her hand with his blade, Zichri was able to get close enough to tackle her to the ground and keep her pinned beneath him.

"Be still," he commanded, but she still struggled to be free.

With a free hand he reached for her face, but she snapped at it and he pulled just out of reach for a moment. Then he tried again and touched her cheek. It wasn't paint. It was actual fur, but where were the strings, the leather ties, to keep it in place? Zichri's grip loosened in surprise. She threw him off and disappearing into the trees.