Tiger Lily (24 page)

“This,” she said, “is time.”

Peter stared at the clock in wonder. He reached out to touch the little silver hands, but Tiger Lily shook her head. “It’s delicate,” she said. “I just brought it to show you. I have to take it back.”

He nodded. He leaned on his elbows on the rail beside it and watched with amazement as the seconds ticked by. He smiled, and this time his eyes twinkled.

“I think I believe it,” he said. He put his hand on her cheek, tugged at a strand of her hair. “Thank you.”

Just as he pulled back, there was a sound behind them in the bushes.

It was so close that Tiger Lily and Peter both jumped. Peter drew his knife. A figure stepped out of the bushes.

Pine Sap.

Tiger Lily stayed where she was, in the middle of the bridge, holding on to the clock protectively, as if she were a thief.

“I was looking for you,” he said, his eyes big and slowly taking things in. “I followed your tracks,” he stammered.

They looked at each other, and then Pine Sap swallowed, looked down at the clock in her arms.

She could see it all coming together in his head. She could see that he was seeing the lie. He looked at Peter, then at her.

“But you’re going to be married,” he said, still making it make sense.

Beside her, Peter stood perfectly still for a moment, and then he turned and ran away, disappearing into the woods.

Pine Sap stayed a moment longer than Peter did, not letting go of Tiger Lily’s eyes with his wide, wounded ones. And then he, too, turned and walked in the opposite direction.

Tiger Lily, alone now, began to shake.

She leaned into the rail, looking at the water below, her hands trembling. The clock teetered for a moment on the edges of her fingers. She reached with her arms, tried to catch it with her wrists, but it bounced against them, slipped through the space between her hands. She watched in shock as it fell directly into the gaping jaws of the biggest crocodile. There was the loud snap of the animal’s teeth. And then came the creature’s realization that something was wrong. It whipped its tail from side to side, distressed, and slid off the muddy shelf into deeper water.

Just for a moment, she could hear the muffled
tick tick
from inside its mouth before it disappeared underneath the murky surface, and curled away.

S
he found Peter attempting to talk a jacamar out of its nest. He was trying to imitate its call.

“How long have you been here?” she asked.

“All day. I still can’t get it right.” His brow furrowed with concentration and frustration with himself. “Peter, get it right,” he muttered.

“I thought you thought talking to the birds was stupid.” Peter didn’t reply. He kept on practicing.

She sat beside him, and he laid his hands on his lap, giving up for the moment. The sounds of the forest were gentle and quiet. Finally he seemed to really notice she was there and he put his arm around her and kissed her cheek.

“I needed to tell you,” she said.

Peter looked at her. “Tell me?” Peter was the best at pretending, of anyone I’ve ever seen, before or since. He smiled brightly and threw a rock at a tree for target practice, though there was uncertainty under his smile.

“Peter.” Tiger Lily’s voice shook. Her face went a deep red. “It was the truth. I’m going to be married.”

Peter laughed; it bubbled out. And as soon as it did, it went still.

“You’re joking.” He smiled again. It was more of a grimace.

“I’m not....”

He pulled his arm away sharply.

“Your friend was lying and so are you. Why would you lie about that?”

He stood up. He stuck his hands into his pockets, softened.

“You’re not going to do it, though,” he said softly, as if it were a matter of course.

“It’s what I’ve been sworn to do,” she said. “Tik Tok promised.”

Secretly, she wanted Peter to say no, and demand that it wouldn’t happen. She wanted to tell him she needed him. He was silent.

“I’ll be married in twelve days,” she said, with finality.

“You’re telling the truth?” he said flatly.

She nodded.

He looked up at the trees, as if tracking the birds from earlier.

“Peter,” she whispered, pride rearing up. She suddenly wanted to put as much distance between them as possible. “It was like, sometimes my life at home doesn’t seem real. Sometimes I can’t see myself when I’m with you. I can only just see you.”

He stood up.

“You’re worthless to me, Tiger Lily,” he said.

He walked off into the woods. She sat on the ground, listening to the calls of the birds.

T
here were rumors of a ship spotted off the coast, gathered from some Bog Dwellers that Stone and some others had run into on a long hunt. Phillip went to the shore once a day to look for it, and kept claiming—half crazily, everyone decided—that they’d come for him at last. But Tiger Lily didn’t really believe it, and neither she nor I really thought about it. She began the ten-day ritual of preparing for her wedding.

Weddings in the village were solemn affairs. Each day, she had to walk to the river with the other women and be washed from head to foot. Each woman gave her a gift, and these surprised her in their sincerity and thoughtfulness. From Moon Eye, of course, there was the long skirt, with the picture of the bird. But from Aunt Agda, there was a pair of slippers lined with fur. From Red Leaf, a shell necklace painted with a smiling crow. From Aunt Sticky Feet, a new necklace of fine turkey feathers. All painstakingly and lovingly made.

Tik Tok had returned, and she saw him one afternoon as she passed his house, looking around for the missing clock and muttering to himself. He didn’t mention it to her, clearly sure he had misplaced it on his own. But he looked distressed, like it was weighing on him. Tiger Lily would go to hover at his door, planning to tell him, and then hesitate, unsure how to do so without telling him too many other things. So she waited, and tried to think of what to say. And she wondered when she had become the kind of person who wasn’t brave enough to say the truth to him.

She didn’t go on the walks with him that they’d planned before he’d left. She couldn’t look him square in the face, so she kept avoiding it. And to be fair, he seemed so consumed by other matters that he didn’t much pursue it either.

Each night, she lay in her bedroll, sleepless.

She imagined Peter appearing in different ways. She imagined him kneeling outside her house, listening to her breathe … standing on the edge of the forest, waiting for her to get up and come find him … padding down the village path at night barefoot, intent on entering her house and waking her with his hands, whispering that she should be quiet. Each of these possibilities seemed as real to her as the last, setting her skin on fire as she lay awake. But nothing changed. When she got up at night, when the moon was passing the middle of the sky, and she walked the perimeter of the village while everyone else slept, she saw no one.

She went to find Pine Sap one afternoon. He had been avoiding her, sitting at the other side of the circles at dinner, taking a different path when he saw her coming his way.

He was sanding the floors of his house smooth. He didn’t look up at her as she approached and laid her hand on one of the poles, leaning slightly against it and watching him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth,” she said, standing with her hands folded in front of her, the closest to humility she could get.

She thought he would ignore her, but Pine Sap looked up.

“Are you leaving us for him?” he asked.

She looked at her feet. “No.” She breathed. “I don’t know.”

Many things struggled on his face, anger being one of them. But hurt was the biggest. “You lied to me.”

“I know.”

He turned back to his work. “I always thought if you didn’t have to marry Giant, you would have married me.” His voice cracked. “I thought that was what you would have wanted.”

Tiger Lily sank back in surprise. “But you’ll marry Moon Eye.”

He looked startled for a moment, and then recognition settled onto his face. He shook his head and laughed. “No.”

“You built this house for her.”

Pine Sap chewed on his bottom lip with a rueful smile, and looked at her, disbelieving. “I built it for you,” he said, amazed.

“But …”

“I know. It wasn’t a rational thing. But I knew you’d like it. Close enough to home, but then, tucked away from everyone’s eyes.”

“But Giant …”

“Well, I was planning to poison him when I started.” He smiled darkly, as if the idea was ridiculous now. “Then I just started hoping he’d let you have one thing you want. A wedding present.”

Tiger Lily was silent. She couldn’t feel worthy of the gift.

“Tiger Lily, you know Moon Eye isn’t for me.”

“She
is
,” Tiger Lily said.

“She’s
like
me. They’re two different things. You’re …” He swallowed. “You’re everything to me. You know that. Don’t pretend that you don’t.”

She wouldn’t look at him. She knew, but she didn’t want to know. More than anything, she worried for her friend. Because if it wasn’t Moon Eye, no one was for Pine Sap. No one at all.

That night Tiger Lily sat up in the dark, unable to sleep. She counted the three days left of her free life to herself, over and over. The noises of the village had died for the evening and given way to the sounds of the forest, so active after dark with snakes and owls and other, deadlier night creatures.

Tiger Lily watched the sky from outside her house for a while. It seemed so low and warm, like she could reach out and touch its fabric. Finally she ducked back inside and stretched out on her bedroll, throwing an arm above her head and looking at nothing. Without the humidity of the wetter times of year, the air got cool after sundown. Her skin felt dry, and she worried her fingers against each other.

She must have fallen asleep, because she didn’t hear him come in. When she did, he was kneeling right beside her head. She squinted at him in the dark, almost sure he was imaginary.

“Tiger Lily, I didn’t mean it,” he said.