Tiger - Jeff Stone [3]
Without a word, Seh, the serious twelve-year-old “snake,” stretched his long, sinewy arms straight up into the air and slid his lanky body over the barrel's rim. Malao stopped giggling after Seh entered the barrel. Fu, however, complained even more when he felt the added weight of his tallest brother pressing down on him.
Hok, the quiet twelve-year-old “crane,” followed Seh without being prompted. His body was of average size, but he was incredibly light. He hopped directly onto the rim of the barrel. Perfectly balanced on the balls of both feet, he leaned forward and stretched his delicate neck to peer inside. After studying the pile a few moments, he gently lowered his pale body into the barrel.
Long, the wise thirteen-year-old “dragon,” went last. He wasn't as strong as Fu, as nimble as Malao, as smooth as Seh, or as gentle as Hok, but he was very, very close in each regard. He placed his large hands on the rim of the barrel like Fu and swung his powerful legs high into the air. But instead of rushing in heavy-footed like Malao, Long quickly checked the positions of the others like Hok had done. While still in midair, Long's muscular, rock-solid body became fluid like a snake, and he wriggled himself down gently into what little space was left at the top of the pile.
Grandmaster finished the job by replacing the barrel's heavy lid. Only then did Fu stop complaining.
But Fu was ready to start complaining all over again. Just when he thought things couldn't get any worse inside the barrel, they did. His brothers were beginning to smell. They were all wearing their cold-weather robes and pants, which made them sweat profusely inside the cramped space. Even their bald heads and bare feet were sweating.
On top of Fu, Malao shifted one of his slimy feet. A dirty toenail poked Fu in the eye. Fu growled and Malao's foot returned to its original position.
Fu wondered what he had done in a former life to deserve this. He was wet and uncomfortable at the bottom of the barrel, and half his body had fallen asleep under the weight of the others. Worst of all, he was being forced to listen to a battle being waged in his own backyard while he lay there, doing nothing.
Fu grumbled to himself. If he hadn't been half-asleep, he would never have agreed to this. Especially with Ying involved.
If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem, Fu thought. Ying, of all people, had told him that.
I've got to get out of this stupid barrel! Fu decided.
Fu began to shake as he struggled to restrain himself. Expressing his thoughts like a civilized person hadn't gotten him anywhere, so he decided to take a different approach. He would muscle his way out. All he needed was a little leverage. Maybe if he were to shift his left shoulder back a little … errr… And then push his right arm forward a little … arrr … And then turn his head a little to the … SLAM!
Fu's head was unexpectedly pinned to the bottom of the barrel by Malao's foot. Fu couldn't believe the little monkey would be so bold! He opened his mouth to give Malao a piece of his mind, but instead of sound coming out, a flood of water rushed in.
“Major Ying, be careful!” shouted an armor-clad soldier. He sprinted toward Cangzhen Temple's practice hall, leaping over lifeless bodies and fallen horses.
Ying stopped short of the practice hall's huge wooden doors and turned toward the running soldier. A flurry of flaming arrows suddenly filled the night sky and rained down onto the green tiles covering the stone building's elaborate wooden roof. The soldier dove behind a dead horse as arrows bounced off the tiles and went careening into the surrounding courtyard. They sliced into anything—alive or dead—that wasn't wearing armor.
Ying, who never wore armor, didn't budge.
“Please step away from the hall, sir!” the soldier pleaded from behind the horse. “Arrows will continue to fly from the compound's