Tiger by Jeff Stone

together quite the way he expected until he remembered that he was missing one key ingredient: water. To get the appropriate paste-like consistency necessaryto plug a wound, you needed to add a little bit of liquid. Fu had to improvise. He spit on the pulverized mass.
    After a little more pounding and mashing, Fu scooped up the paste with one hand and applied it with the other. Almost immediately, the blood stopped flowing. The sharp stinging sensation he felt from the breeze blowing into the wound also stopped. However, the wind managed to irritate him in other ways. It chilled his robes, which were still wet from lying in the barrel, and blew the fabric up against his body, where it clung tightly. Fu shivered. He needed shelter. Fortunately, one thing the mountainous forest did not lack was rocks. Rocks of all sizes. He located an outcropping with an opening opposite the wind and curled up inside.
    Fu could not recall ever feeling so drained. His training at Cangzhen had been tough, but he had never pushed this hard for this long and never before had so much adrenaline pumped through his system. Fu gave in to his exhaustion. But even as his body relaxed and his breathing slowed, his mind continued to race.
    Where are my brothers?
he wondered.
Why didn't they stay and try to do something? And now that they are gone and I'm alone with the scrolls, what should I do with them?
    Fu was perplexed. He was driven by instinct, not reason. It was not his nature to think so much.
    Exhausted, cold, and alone, he closed his eyes.

“ H ow much longer do you think he'll be down there?” the soldier asked.
    “I have no idea,” Commander Woo replied. “It's only been a few hours, but as far as I'm concerned, Major Ying can stay down there forever.”
    “What do you think he's doing?”
    “I don't even want to know. Just stop your yapping and keep digging. If he sees us before we're finished, he may finish
us.
I never asked permission to do this.”
    Ying lay asleep on the cool earth inside the Cangzhen escape tunnel, oblivious to what his men were doing above ground. Soon after he'd inspected the dead monks and confirmed that Fu and the other four boyshad escaped, he'd gone below ground. Ying was solitary by nature and often needed time alone.
    Alone time was very important to Ying when he lived at Cangzhen, too—and he used to steal some whenever he had the chance. For years, the escape tunnel had been his preferred hideout. It was a place where he could be by himself. A place where he could be himself. Though the world saw him as an eagle, in his heart he knew he was an all-powerful dragon. Over the years, the tunnel had become Ying's own private lair. No one else ever bothered to go down there because of the concealed traps. No one, that is, except Fu.
    Occasionally, Ying would drift off to sleep in the tunnel. When he failed to show up for a meal or training session, someone would have to go down there and wake him. Ying hated to be woken and would lash out immediately at whoever disturbed him. So none of the monks liked to go near him when he slept. None of the monks, that is, except Fu, who seemed to derive a special pleasure from irritating Ying. Fu would eagerly volunteer every time Ying needed to be woken, especially down in the dark tunnel, where no one was watching. Fu would use his eerily efficient low-light vision to stalk Ying slowly— silently—before waking him with a powerful punch or kick.
    And so a special relationship had formed between Ying and Fu. Ying would torment Fu during the day, and Fu would strike back while Ying slept. Ying'sfeelings toward Fu were a big part of the reason he needed to have some alone time right now. He was upset that the scrolls had been taken, but he was especially upset that Fu had been the one to do it. As he lay there, Ying dreamed he was out on the trail, searching for Fu. Ying loved the thrill of the hunt, and it pained him that he could hunt no more. It was now his