And waking, he heard the sound again. He pulled aside the patchwork of furs and moved across the room, afraid the sound would fade into unreality. He threw a log quickly on the dying fire, and went to the door. And opened it.
The snow tiger stood before him, a fierce storm howling all around it. Leg bleeding and weak from hunger, it remained motionless. But still it stood, and wanted to come in.
'What is it?' asked his lover, peering out from the canopy of stone.
'A miracle,' he pronounced, blinded by the water in his eyes and in his heart. 'The tiger has come back.' It lumbered in woozily, and he closed the door behind it.
Chapter 27
Thus began a period of relative calm for the reshaped company. Slowly the tiger's wounds healed, and slowly, as he became wiser and more proficient at setting them, Kalus' traps became more productive. The reserves were emptied and there was never much to spare. Their existence was strictly one day at a time, and face tomorrow when it comes. But what was absolutely needed, the bare-bone necessities, were through constant effort and exertion, one way or another obtained.
And though Winter was hardly on the wane, neither could it increase or outdo the storms it had already hurled against them. The fortress they had made of Skither's cave, as well as the yet dearer fortresses of mind and body, continued to withstand and endure. And their collective will remained unvanquished.
And in late afternoons and evenings, when the day's work was done and nothing more could be bought by their labors, there was time for reading, conversation and quiet thought. The tiger, once it learned it was free to do so, often went out into the night, if only to rest just beyond the safety of the lair; and this, along with Akar's absence, left a natural void which must be filled with more human pursuits. Even the cub would turn peaceful, either tired out by the day's doings, or engaged in some quiet pursuit of its own, chewing at a bone or piece of leather, or simply working out in dream the wonders and perils of its world.
For Sylviana it was both comforting and painful to recall herself through books, and to reveal to Kalus for the first time, the beauty and torment of Man's elevated walk upon the Earth. That it should now be all but extinguished was to her an unspeakable and inexpressible tragedy. Yet she had learned from Ursula LeGuin years before (though at the time she had not understood it), that the only way to deal with the horror of a shattered past was to face it, and call it by its true name. And she told herself that in her heart, if nowhere else, lived the memory of much that was noble and good.
For Kalus the various narratives, histories and philosophies, continued to open a whole new world before him. And though it was at times a pleasant and enlightening escape, on the whole his reactions to modern society were not unlike the woman's first impressions of the violent world outside their door. It held wonders, yes, and on occasion, profound beauty and wisdom. But the accounts of civil war, totalitarian regimes, torture, famine, real and effectual slavery, environmental pollution and industrial greed, excited in him the same horror that the imagined swarm of giant ants had once roused in Sylviana.