{"sf1_id":932825,"sf2_id":"dmBG22an","title":"The Scent of Flowers","author":"wwwerewolf","words":5533,"posted_at":"2015-11-12T02:16:30.000Z","tags":["Death","Human","Lion","Mourner","So Long","Wolf","the end"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/932825-the-scent-of-flowers","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/dmBG22an","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/42/06/42064ef4-c2ec-479f-89cf-21f634d7ed1e","description":"The final book in The Hunters series. This has been great, but everything has to end somewhere. And this is it.  \n  \n  \n  \n  \nDon't have a clue what's going on? Welcome to the hunt. Start with the first book!  \n  \nGreat new cover curtsey of Negger  \n  \nComments and critiques are welcome.","content":"# Chapter 7: The Scent of Flowers\n  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;We still did everything we could to leave a trail for Jon – which wasn't much – as we headed west.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I'll admit our pace picked up with Rebecca looking after me.\u0026nbsp; I'd kept her from it for so long out of a feeling of shame.\u0026nbsp; I hadn't wanted her to see what was slowly eating me from within.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;But now that I'd laid myself bare – in more ways than one – I was nothing but glad for it.\u0026nbsp; Her thin and nimble fingers, not to mention her better point of view, meant she was far better at keeping the slow horror at bay.  \n  \n  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I can't tell you the precise moment we finally entered India, but I sure as the gods knew what marked it.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Rain.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I hadn't the slightest what the date was, but we were pretty much convinced we'd managed to get here in the middle of rainy season.\u0026nbsp; If it kept coming down like this my fur might start start to turn green with moss.  \n  \n  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“What's wrong, Wolfy?” Rebecca asked as I checked the leather pouch at my hip again.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I nearly jumped when she set her soft hand on my shoulder.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“Hmm?\u0026nbsp; Oh, nothing, Babe.\u0026nbsp; I'm just checking up on English.”\u0026nbsp; Turning, I showed her the ashes.\u0026nbsp; “I just always get worried whenever we get wet that some of the moisture will get through to him.”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;She gave me a lopsided grin and a chuckle.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;It was long ago we'd decided, though never really said it, that it was easier to refer to English directly.\u0026nbsp; In some ways the lion wasn't quite dead.\u0026nbsp; He was still with us.\u0026nbsp; And it was the cagey old cat who'd sent us on this quest to begin with.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“I'm sure he'll be fine,Wolfy,” she said.\u0026nbsp; “He hadn't complained yet, has he?”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I grinned back as I carefully fitted the top tightly over his remains.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“Nah, Babe.\u0026nbsp; This trip is the quietest he's been in a long time.\u0026nbsp; I think he's just looking forward to seeing his family again.”  \n  \n  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Unlike Japan and China, the entry into India was a... subdued affair.\u0026nbsp; We didn't even know we'd crossed the boarder until we'd managed to run across a caravan of traders who spoke english.\u0026nbsp; We were somewhere in West Bengal.  \n  \n  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;With every step we took the rain seemed to get nothing but worse.\u0026nbsp; Okay, I've lived in Vancouver all my life.\u0026nbsp; I know rain.\u0026nbsp; Bugger, I work for a company called Storm Front for the gods' sakes and I've never seen anything like this.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;The skies were nothing but an uninterrupted cascade of water, and the once hard packed dirt path beneath us was mixed to a froth of mud so deep I was up to my knees half the time.\u0026nbsp; It was going to take me weeks to wash the mud from my fur.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“Do you see that, Wolfy?” Rebecca asked, pointing up ahead.\u0026nbsp; I almost didn't hear her.\u0026nbsp; The wind tried to steal her words away almost before they left her mouth.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Thankfully, I did.\u0026nbsp; It was a light.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Slogging on, it took us the better part of an hour to make what should have been a five minute journey, but at long last we cleared the last ridge to see a small village.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Was it wrong I howled in joy at even the slightest possibility of a hot bath?  \n  \n  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Down into the small valley that held the village, we had to be careful not to slip, and even then we spent more time sliding down at the head of a mudslide than we did walking.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“Namaskaar!” I shouted as we neared.\u0026nbsp; It was the only word in Hindi I knew.\u0026nbsp; We'd learned it from the traders.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;At first there was no response.\u0026nbsp; I yelled it again at the top of my lungs for all the good it did.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Continuing on to the largest building in town, we could only hope it was an inn.  \n  \n  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Throwing open the door, I stepped inside.\u0026nbsp; I hadn't really meant to arrive that dramatically, but the wind had its own plans.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Well, we'd gotten it right.\u0026nbsp; This was an inn, or a pub, or something.\u0026nbsp; There was a dozen men and women sitting in here at tables.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;They all looked up at us like we were demons stepped straight out of a story book.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“Namaskaar,” I repeated, my voice softer now.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;One of them stood up and approached us.\u0026nbsp; I wiped the dripping mud from my hand and offered it to him.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;He ignored it completely.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Walking around us, he gave us both a close inspection.\u0026nbsp; Closer than I really would have cared for.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;He then said something, but I hadn't the slightest clue what it was.\u0026nbsp; He said it again, but all I could do was raise my hands and shrug.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Rebecca was a little smarter than I.\u0026nbsp; She dug into her pack and pulled our a small purse of Indian coins we'd traded for a week or so back.\u0026nbsp; A moment later she was holding out what we hoped was about the right amount for a night's stay at a county inn.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;The man backed away, his eyes going wide.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Uhh... am I missing something here?  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Things just kept going from bad to worse when the other men and women in the room stood.\u0026nbsp; And none of them looked too happy.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“Uhh, Babe,” I whispered, glancing across to Rebecca, “Perhaps they don't care much for visitors here.”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;She didn't bother replying before we began to back slowly towards the door.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I wanted to run, but the day's hike, combined with my own infirmary left me gasping for breath no more than a dozen paces from the inn.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;We were more than close enough to be caught by the angry mob.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Wonderful.\u0026nbsp; How was this going to look?\u0026nbsp; We'd journeyed half way across the world, beaten back monsters both natural and man made, escaped a whole bounty hunting guild, only to be caught by a pissed off gaggle of farmers.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I was just rising from where I'd tripped and fallen in the mud when I felt something heavy hit the back of my head.  \n  \n  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Well... bugger.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I woke up twelve hours later.\u0026nbsp; Or fourteen, or seventy-two for all I knew.\u0026nbsp; I was cuffed hand a foot and stuffed – as far as I could tell – in a little shed out behind the village.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;And it was still raining.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;If there was one bit of good news in this whole thing it was that Rebecca was still with me.\u0026nbsp; They hadn't tied her as tightly as they had I.\u0026nbsp; For that I was grateful to any all all gods that may or may not exist.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“You alright, Babe?” I asked as soon as I came to.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Other than tussled hair and a few more scuffs on her old standby read leather jacket she looked not too bad.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“I was about to ask the same of you, Wolfy,” she said.\u0026nbsp; They didn't bother hitting me on the head like that.\u0026nbsp; You were the one who fought.\u0026nbsp; As soon as I saw you go down I gave up.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I snorted.\u0026nbsp; “What?\u0026nbsp; You, Babe?\u0026nbsp; That doesn't sound like you at all.”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;For just a moment I could see the fear in her eyes, then she pushed it quickly away.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“Not normally, Wolfy.\u0026nbsp; But this time I don't have anyone to carry your limp body away, and it wasn't like I was going to leave you here with a hoard of violent villagers.”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I worked up a grin.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“How about you scoot over here, Babe, and you let me chew through your bonds?”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I couldn't reach my own, but by the feeling of them they were nothing but twined rope.\u0026nbsp; My teeth, no matter how dull, should be able to make quick work of them.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;She rolled her eyes.\u0026nbsp; “They're not that dumb, Wolfy,” she said.\u0026nbsp; They tied me tight to the wall.”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I groaned.  \n  \n  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Our wait, well longer than I would have liked, wasn't all that bad.\u0026nbsp; It was the next day the rain finally let up.\u0026nbsp; The land was still a mess, but at least you could look up without drowning.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;And that was when we got to meet the head man of the village.\u0026nbsp; He was an ox, or something along those lines.\u0026nbsp; In his thick fingers I saw a phrase book that looked to be a long lost relative of the ones Jon had packed.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Locking the door securely behind him, he squatted down on the relativity dry dirt in here and eyed us.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“You.\u0026nbsp; English.\u0026nbsp; Speak.”\u0026nbsp; I could tell by the way he said the words that they were hurting his throat.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;And, oddly, he said them at Rebbeca, not I.\u0026nbsp; This poor little Wolfy was all but ignored.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“Yes,” she said.\u0026nbsp; She spoke slowly and carefully.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;The man grunted.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“You.\u0026nbsp; Are.\u0026nbsp; God.”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Okay, I'll admit it, I would have picked my jaw up off the floor if my hands hadn't been tied.\u0026nbsp; Even Rebecca, normally unflappable, was taken aback.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;She looked him straight in the eye.\u0026nbsp; “No.\u0026nbsp; Travelers.”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;He paged through the book for a bit as she repeated herself.\u0026nbsp; At long last he grunted.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“Lie.\u0026nbsp; God.\u0026nbsp; Rain.”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I would have face palmed if I could have.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“What now?” Rebecca asked.\u0026nbsp; The man didn't seem to need a translation for that.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“Judgment,” was all he said.  \n  \n  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I'm not ashamed to say that the single word sent a tremor of fear all the way from my nose to the tip of my tail.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;A short time later a half dozen more of the villagers arrived with stout sticks.\u0026nbsp; They untied Rebecca, but not me.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Rebecca was politely shown to the back of a wagon.\u0026nbsp; I was carried in Zulu style.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“Anyone want to fill me in here?” I asked after I was none to gently dropped in the wagon.\u0026nbsp; Instead of an answer I got our packs thrown on top of me.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Though I did still somehow manage to grin when English's ashes twacked me on the side of the head.  \n  \n  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;They didn't quite trust us that much.\u0026nbsp; I was bound hand and foot, and Rebecca, while fairly free, had her ankle tied to the wagon.\u0026nbsp; Though it seemed more ceremonial than anything.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“Where are we going?” I asked more than once.\u0026nbsp; The answer, when I finally got one, was 'Mumbai'.  \n  \n  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Well, it beats walking.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;The wagon took us to another village.\u0026nbsp; From there we were transferred – with a piece of paper – to another wagon.\u0026nbsp; From there to a barge, another wagon, and finally a truck.\u0026nbsp; The paper stuck with us the whole time.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;And, rather surprisingly, we were treated none too badly.\u0026nbsp; Rebecca better than I, but we were fed and generally looked after.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Well, right up until we got to the truck.\u0026nbsp; Then this little vacation came to an end.\u0026nbsp; The truck was surprisingly modern.\u0026nbsp; And in its back were individual jail cells.  \n  \n  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;When the truck doors finally opened again we were met with a... rather surprising sight.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I hadn't been quite sure what to expect of Mumbi.\u0026nbsp; From what I'd seen of India so far I wasn't expecting much.\u0026nbsp; Instead what I got was an impressively clean street and a row of relatively new buildings.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;The man opening the truck door was dressed in a dark blue uniform.\u0026nbsp; Somethings it seems are almost universal.\u0026nbsp; A cop.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;The man, surprisingly polite, cut both our bonds and helped us down.\u0026nbsp; I would have howled in joy of being able to move freely again after almost a month of one type or another constriction.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;There was only one problem through – they took our stuff.\u0026nbsp; All of it, even English's ashes.  \n  \n  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;And from there I was shown into a cell and left with a lot of time to think.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I hadn't seen Rebecca in over a day.\u0026nbsp; They separated us the moment we got in here.\u0026nbsp; I can only assume she was sent to a woman's wing.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;As for what it's worth this had to be one of the nicer prisons I've ever had the opportunity to be locked away in.\u0026nbsp; Though I think that's more because I'd been speaking english during the booking procedure than anything else.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I had a nice little cell all to myself.\u0026nbsp; The door was iron bars, but the walls were painted white concrete.\u0026nbsp; Hey, I even had my own little barred window looking out at a little blue square of sky.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;The sound of claws clicking down the concrete hall outside my door snapped me back to the here and now.\u0026nbsp; There's aren't many folks locked up in this wing, so any activity is of interest.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;At long last a man in a blue cop's uniform came to a stop in front of my cell.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Gods but the man reminded me of Jon.\u0026nbsp; He wasn't a German Sheppard, but he was a dog.\u0026nbsp; The way he stood, the way he walked...\u0026nbsp; I nearly cried.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“Tommy Taggert?” he said, reading off a paper.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I nodded and slowly stood up.\u0026nbsp; I didn't bother saying anything.\u0026nbsp; It was obvious he didn't understand english.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;A moment later the key turned in the lock and he ushered me out.\u0026nbsp; I was more than pleased to note he didn't cuff my wrists.  \n  \n  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;This place was big.\u0026nbsp; Outside of V-town, I'm pleased to say I haven't had to get too up close and personal to that many jails.\u0026nbsp; This building put the cells we had sequestrated under and around Police HQ to shame.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I shivered at that memory.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;The further we walked the nicer the place became.\u0026nbsp; From the bare and whitewashed cells to clean if spartan mess halls and exercise gyms, to halfway pleasant processing areas, to offices and meeting rooms.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;It was one of those office that we finally stopped in front of.\u0026nbsp; My escort reached out to knock on the door.\u0026nbsp; A moment later a voice called us in.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;The guard opened the door and motioned me onwards.\u0026nbsp; He didn't follow.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;The office, like the guard and the jail, was pretty universal.\u0026nbsp; I'd know a low level manager anywhere.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;The room was tight, but pleasant enough.\u0026nbsp; The walls were the same white as the rest of the building, but there was a desk, a couple of chairs, and a window far nicer than the one I'd spent yesterday looking through.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;And sitting on the other side of the desk was the scrawniest tiger I've ever seen in my life.\u0026nbsp; He couldn't be more than twenty-five, and topped out at a hundred pounds.\u0026nbsp; From where I stood he looked almost anorexic.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;He smiled at me.\u0026nbsp; The first words out of his mouth made me smile in return.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“Ah, Mr. Taggert.\u0026nbsp; So sorry for the inconvenience.”\u0026nbsp; His voice had that stereotypical British-Indian accent that suggested the kingdom was still running some schools out here.\u0026nbsp; “Please,” he continued, “Have a seat.”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I did, and my butt end was more than happy for a little padding after the gods only knew how many days of bumpy wagons and truck beds.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“The government would like to extend it's most heartfelt apologies for what you've been through, Mr. Taggert,” the tiger continued.\u0026nbsp; “You have to understand that we are still in the process of rebuilding after the most unfortunate events that left us like...” he gestured down at himself, “This.”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I let out a long sigh and rolled my neck to get out the kinks.\u0026nbsp; Well, here was something I could deal with – a bureaucrat.\u0026nbsp; I was back in my element.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“Care to tell me what exactly I did wrong?” I asked, keeping my voice carefully level.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;He coughed and looked away.\u0026nbsp; “Ah, you see, Mr. Taggert, you arrived at a most inopportune time.\u0026nbsp; The rains that accompanied you were far more than is seasonable.\u0026nbsp; You were outsiders in a small, rural town that was in the midst of a disaster.\u0026nbsp; They did what so many might.\u0026nbsp; They assumed you evil spirits and took action to keep you from doing mischief.”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;My jaw just about dropped.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“They thought we brought the floods?” I asked.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;He coughed again.\u0026nbsp; “Ah, well, not you, Mr. Taggert.\u0026nbsp; There is a goddess, particularly popular in Western Bengal.\u0026nbsp; She's a human, controls the seasonal rains, and is most often seen with a canine companion and protector.\u0026nbsp; I'm sure you can see how an honest mistake like this could be made.”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I laughed.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;It started out as a soft chuckle but grew until I was almost falling out of my seat.\u0026nbsp; I laughed so hard it felt like the stitch in my side was going to rip.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“So,” I asked, wiping my eyes, “What now?\u0026nbsp; Are we going to be burnt at the stake?”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;The tiger's eyes went wide.\u0026nbsp; “No, no.\u0026nbsp; Of course not, Mr. Taggert.\u0026nbsp; We wouldn't dream of it.\u0026nbsp; Some of our outer provinces may be less than civilized, but I can assure you we are not.\u0026nbsp; We'll simply clear up your paperwork, write you both official pardons and you'll be free to go.”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Pausing for a moment, he reached down under his desk.\u0026nbsp; I heard the familiar rustle of fabric.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“It is your good fortune,” he continued, “That your passport made it all the way here intact.\u0026nbsp; That should speed the process considerably.”  \n  \n  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;And then came the most feared of all beasts, the paperwork.\u0026nbsp; Thankfully, the tiger called for a tea service to help sooth my parched throat.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Between the man's accent and his penchant for tea, I couldn't help compare him to English.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“So, Mr. Taggert,” he said, “We're almost done.\u0026nbsp; What is your reason for coming to India?”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I shook my head.\u0026nbsp; “Just passing through,” I said.\u0026nbsp; “We're on our way to Africa.\u0026nbsp; I promised a friend I'd bring his remains home.”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“Ah.”\u0026nbsp; He scribbled on his paper.\u0026nbsp; “That would explain this.”\u0026nbsp; Reaching down behind his desk again he pulled out the pouch holding English's ashes.\u0026nbsp; Let out a a breath when I saw them.\u0026nbsp; “We were wondering what this was.”\u0026nbsp; He paused for a moment and signed.\u0026nbsp; “You are aware that the transport of body remains is restricted?”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I rolled my eyes.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;He looked at me and shrugged.\u0026nbsp; “Don't worry too much, Tommy,” he said, a smile slipping through.\u0026nbsp; “We'll make it simple.\u0026nbsp; Just another piece of paper.”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I signed and leaned back in my chair.\u0026nbsp; Well, at least I didn't have anything to hide.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I did make a point to leave out that the bounty hunting guild was looking for us in China though.  \n  \n  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Reciting the story to this point, I gave the man the quick once over on our journey – remembering to let him know that if they ever encountered a particular German Sheppard wandering this way that he was with us.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“Very good, Mr. Taggert.” the man said.\u0026nbsp; “We'll just have to go over the identity of the ashes.\u0026nbsp; Just a formality, you understand.\u0026nbsp; We need to assure that there is no fowl play.”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“Yeah, sure,” I said.\u0026nbsp; “They're of a lion.\u0026nbsp; My best friend, Micheal Jones.\u0026nbsp; He was from Kenya originally.\u0026nbsp; Everyone called him English.”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;It took me a moment to realize the tiger had stopped writing.\u0026nbsp; He'd stopped dead the moment's I'd said English's real name.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“Uh, yes,” the man stuttered out, “I'm sure that will be more than enough.\u0026nbsp; We'll just get the paperwork sorted out and have you free in a few hours.”\u0026nbsp; With that the man stood up and quickly walked around me to the office door.\u0026nbsp; He slipped into the hallway, leaving me here alone.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I couldn't make out a single world that was said in the hallway, but it sounded like the tiger was talking to the guard outside.\u0026nbsp; A moment later I heard a set of footsteps taking off at high speed.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Bugger.\u0026nbsp; What have you gotten myself into this time, English?  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;When the tiger returned he left the office door open behind him.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“Sorry to keep you, Mr. Taggert.\u0026nbsp; Your escort will be with us in just a moment to take you back to your... ah, accommodations.”  \n  \n  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I wasn't quite ready to call this an uptick in my fortunes just yet, but when I got back to my cell I noticed my bed had been changed.\u0026nbsp; Now, rather then the thin straw weave that had sat there before I had a halfway decent cloth and wool mattress.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I cocked an eyebrow as I sat down.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;What is all the gods' names was going on?  \n  \n  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;My fortunes didn't end there.\u0026nbsp; When evening meal came around I was expecting the same simple gruel they'd fed me before.\u0026nbsp; Instead I was pleasantly surprised.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Curry has never been my thing, but after a month of whatever people scraped off the bottom of the slop barrel, curried chicken was a delight beyond description.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Sitting alone in my cell, I hungrily lapped up my meal from the bowl provided and looked out my small window.\u0026nbsp; I could only hope the paperwork didn't take too long to process.  \n  \n  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;They must have completed my case at record speed.\u0026nbsp; The sun was no more than kissing the horizon the next morning when I heard the tat-tat-tat of claws coming down the hallway towards me.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;The same cop as yesterday let me out of my cell and led me off.  \n  \n  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“Wolfy!”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I didn't even get two steps into the processing room before Rebecca had both arms, and possibly both legs, wrapped around me.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“I'm happy to see you too, Babe,” I whispered, kissing her cheek.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;We were interrupted a moment later by someone clearing their throat.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;A clerk, a different one that the tiger I'd talked to yesterday, stood before us, our backpacks leaning on the wall next to him.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“Please ensure you have all your belongings and I'll sign your release,” he said.\u0026nbsp; He had the same British accent as the tiger, but didn't speak the language nearly as well.  \n  \n  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;About ten minutes later we were ready to go.\u0026nbsp; All our stuff was here, though all I really cared about were our passports and English's ashes.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“Very well,” the clerk said, scrawling on a piece of paper.\u0026nbsp; “There is only one more thing.”\u0026nbsp; Stiffly, he reached into a jacket pocket and pulled out a small leather pouch.\u0026nbsp; “I'm sure you will find this sufficient compensation for your troubles.”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;He dropped the surprisingly heavy bag in my hand and turned to leave.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I don't think giving folks money like this is normal procedure, but we didn't question it.\u0026nbsp; The man's back had hardly turned before Rebecca and I were hoofing it towards the door, and the fresh air it so tantalizingly promised.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;We would have made a sprint for it, but that just would have been uncooth.  \n  \n  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Out in the sunlight again, I couldn't help but stretch my arms.\u0026nbsp; It felt so good.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;There was a wide set of steps leading down from the building to the busy road beyond.\u0026nbsp; We took them at an easy stroll.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“Well, Babe,” I said, “This wasn't exactly my plan, but you can see the Arabian Sea out there.\u0026nbsp; We're almost to Africa.”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;She snorted and smacked me lightly on the side of the head.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“Don't get ahead of yourself, Wolfy.\u0026nbsp; We've still got a long way to go to get to Kenya.”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Descending the last few steps, I noticed what was setting me off about the street here.\u0026nbsp; It had cars.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;We don't have many cars in V-town, but I'd gotten fairly used to them in Japan.\u0026nbsp; Here there was a near perfect mix of pedestrians, rickshaws, and motor vehicles swarming the street.\u0026nbsp; And one long, black, car in particular was stopped right at the foot of the steps, its doors open.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“Mr. and Mrs. Taggert?” a cat asked.\u0026nbsp; He was standing in front of the car, clothed in a black suit that must be sweltering in the heat.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;We stopped dead.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“Yes,” I said hesitantly.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;The cat smiled.\u0026nbsp; “My employer would like to meet with you.”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I took a step back.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“And who is your employer?” I asked.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;The cat cocked his head slightly as if to ask, you don't know?  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“All will be explained, I'm sure,” he said.\u0026nbsp; “After all, she was kind enough to arrange for your speedy discharge from jail and the bag of coins you now hold.”  \n  \n  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;And with that we got in the car.\u0026nbsp; The driver offered to stash our packs in the trunk, but Rebecca and I declined.\u0026nbsp; We'd only so recently gotten them back that I didn't want them to be out of arm's reach.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I can count the number of times I've been in a motor vehicle on my hands and toes.\u0026nbsp; Most of those were his English and his baby.\u0026nbsp; They'd never prepared me for this.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Even the ambulances in V-town tend to drive rather slowly,\u0026nbsp; I don't think I've ever been above forty kilometers per hour.\u0026nbsp; The way this guy drove left both Rebecca and I cowering in the foot wells.\u0026nbsp; I couldn't make out the words he screamed out the window, but I had a feeling they weren't blessings.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;In due course was made our destination.\u0026nbsp; And we were all suitably impressed.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;The house in front of us was on par with the greatest and grandest of what you might find in V-town, and far above my own rather meager apartment.\u0026nbsp; Large wrought iron gates opened as we approached, pulled aside by workers seemingly standing there for that exact purpose.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;We were expected.  \n  \n  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Up the graveled drive, the car finally came to a stop at a large white, colonial style mansion.\u0026nbsp; Yet again there were people just waiting for us.\u0026nbsp; I didn't even have to open the car door.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;It didn't take many steps after we crossed the threshold for me to start developing an inferiority complex.\u0026nbsp; Don't get me wrong, I've been to lots of places like this before, but always while wearing one of Smith's suite.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;As it was, dusty, dirty, strung out, and reeking of our time in jail, all I could do was stare.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“Thank you for coming.”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;My head snapped up.\u0026nbsp; In front of us stood a grand staircase, and down it, ever so slowly, stepped a grand old dame of tigress.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I don't think I've ever used the phrase grand old dame, but this was one case where it fit.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Her fur was long gone grey, and she was as thin as a reed, but she simply carried an air of... well, not quite royalty, but close to.\u0026nbsp; Even her voice was smooth and cultured, only ever so subtlety cracked by the ravages of age.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“My name is Jasmine,” she said.\u0026nbsp; “I do believe you are carrying my dear Michael.”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I had to rack my brain for a long moment before it came to me.\u0026nbsp; One of English's first adventures after leaving home had been to befriend – and almost marry – a tiger named Jasmine in India.\u0026nbsp; She had been the daughter of a local governor or something like that.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Well, it looked like she wasn't doing too bad for herself.  \n  \n  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;It was only moments later we found ourselves in a calm and sedate sitting room, cups of tea and cream biscuits spread before us.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“So you're her then?” I asked, slurping my tea.\u0026nbsp; I may have gotten a good meal in jail last night, but I had a lot of calories to catch up on.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;She nodded her head gently.\u0026nbsp; “Yes,” her voice had that same British schooling accent I was getting used to.\u0026nbsp; “I'm pleased to hear he hadn't forgotten me.”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I closed my eyes for a moment and set a hand on the pouch that sat on my lap.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“I don't think that could ever happen, Jasmine.\u0026nbsp; English... he was a unique person.\u0026nbsp; I wouldn't be surprised if some of his final thought were of you.”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I decided not to mention his widow in Japan.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“Tell me,” she said, her voice shaking, “How did he die?”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I relayed the story of English's time in V-town, and how we'd met, than finally parted.\u0026nbsp; She cried now and then, but was smiling when I continued with our journey to here.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“Ah,” she said, wiping away a tear, “Then we are most fortunate that my grandnephew happened across you.”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I smiled.\u0026nbsp; “That would explain a lot.\u0026nbsp; I take it these coins are yours?”\u0026nbsp; I offered her the pouch but he pressed it back to me.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“No, my dear friends, think of it as my gift to you.\u0026nbsp; I haven't seen my Michael in so many years, but he still means a great deal to me.\u0026nbsp; It truly is the least I can do.”  \n  \n  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;And she hadn't been kidding on the least part.\u0026nbsp; Jasmine, it seemed, was rather well off.\u0026nbsp; No matter how hard we tried to refuse, we just couldn't turn her down when she offered us a room in her home.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Over the next few days as we recuperated she came to me again and again, asking for stories about English.\u0026nbsp; I was happy to oblige.\u0026nbsp; I was rather surprised to hear she wasn't married.\u0026nbsp; Apparently the old lion had meant more to her than he'd ever known.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Jasmine spoke to me a great many times, but even more to Rebecca.\u0026nbsp; The tigress may have a a sizable staff here at her home, but she seemed to have precious few friends.\u0026nbsp; Like most anywhere in the world, money didn't automatically buy you a happy life.\u0026nbsp; The two woman spent more and more time together each day.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Worked well for me.\u0026nbsp; Gave me time to plan out the next step in the journey.  \n  \n  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“Rebecca,” I said on the forth day as we were waking up and getting ready for breakfast, “How would you feel if I went the rest of the way to Kenya alone?”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I think she just about punched me.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“Tommy!\u0026nbsp; There's no way you're leaving me alone now.\u0026nbsp; Now after all we've been through.”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I grinned and leaned forward to kiss her.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“It's not that, Babe.\u0026nbsp; It's just... well, English asked me to do this.\u0026nbsp; I shouldn't be long, it's just across the Arabian Sea.\u0026nbsp; I should be able to book passage.\u0026nbsp; And besides, someone needs to hang around in case Jon shows up.”  \n  \n  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Rebecca wasn't exactly happy about it, but I did at last convince her to stay here, and Jasmine was more than happy to accommodate us.\u0026nbsp; She even found me some Kenyan currency and a phrase book.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;It was on my last day in India before boarding a westbound junk that Jasmine came to me.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I was sitting in our bedroom, making some final adjustments to my pack when a soft knock came at the door.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“Yes?” I called.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;She stepped through slowly, as if afraid to enter a room in her own home.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“Tommy,” she said, voice barely above a whisper, “I have a request to ask of you.”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I motioned her to take a seat on the bed beside me.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“Anything,” I said.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Pulling a small locket from under her blouse, Jasmine flicked it open to show me a tiny black and white photograph.\u0026nbsp; I had to look hard before I could recognize the two people.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;A frighteningly young lion and tiger.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“It's the only photo I have of him,” she said, voice yet softer now.\u0026nbsp; “The only thing I have.\u0026nbsp; I... I would ask you for a pinch of his ashes to keep with me.\u0026nbsp; To remember him.”\u0026nbsp; She smiled shyly, “And to bury with me when I pass on not so long from now.”  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;I let out a long sigh and smiled.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;“For you, my dear lady, anything.”\u0026nbsp; I was a poor imitation of English's voice but it worked.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Leaning down to my pack, I pulled out the heavy leather pouch.\u0026nbsp; I opened it to find the perfectly uniform gray ashes.  \n  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;Reaching a hand in, I took a careful pinch and let it fall into the locket, making sure not to lose a single grain.","series":{"name":"The Mourner","previous":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/932541-narrow-passes-and-sheer-cliffs.json","next":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/933201-a-royal-welcome.json"}}