Tiger - Jeff Stone [31]
“What do they feed it?” the boy asked his mother.
“I have no idea,” she said.
“Well, they put it in a cage built for a tiger, right? So maybe they feed it chickens. I heard all tigers love chicken.”
“He's a monk, dear. Monks don't eat meat.”
“He's a vegetarian? He's huge! What did they feed him at the temple, trees?”
Fu growled at the boy through the bars of the bamboo cage. The boy squealed and ran off. His mother shook her head and walked away after him. But another child stepped right up with a parent in tow. And so it continued as the sun sank in the distance, a seemingly endless parade of people walking past the large cage in the village square. The line was so long, it ran past the bun vendor's shop— the only building visible through the thick wall of bushes and trees that lined the perimeter of the square.
The villagers had come to see the vicious killer monk. It was said he'd put up quite a fight after they'd caught him in the heavy net near the village dump. Men were clawed. Bones were broken. Still, the young wildcat was no match for twenty men and a net. Eventually, they'd restrained him and taken four ancient scrolls from the folds of his robe. Once the men had the scrolls, all the fight went out of the young monk. From that point on, he had been a pussycat.
“I'm not afraid of him!” announced the next boy in line. His name was Ma. He was twelve years old, but he looked like he was at least fourteen or fifteen. He was huge. His hair was long, thick, and unruly. His eyes were like stone. Ma stared at Fu and rolled up the sleeves of his tattered gray robe. Fu stared back.
Ma picked up a rock and threw it at Fu, who sat cross-legged with the backs of his hands resting on his knees, his palms open to the heavens. Fu's right hand flew up and caught the rock a fraction of a second before it hit his head. He slowly lowered his hand back to his knee, the rock resting peacefully in his open palm. The entire time, Fu's head had remained straight, his chin perpendicular to the ground. His eyes never strayed from Ma's.
“Oh, you think you're tough?” Ma asked. “Catch this!” He gathered several rocks and unleashed them all simultaneously in Fu's direction. Fu's left arm remained relaxed while his right arm became a blur of motion, stopping as abruptly as it had started. When Fu returned his hand to his knee and opened his fingers, several rocks rolled out. Fu's eyes never wavered from Ma's.
Ma was amazed, but also infuriated.
“That's it!” Ma yelled. “I'll kick your fat—”
“Enough!” shouted a familiar voice. The long line of children and parents broke up as the Gentleman from the forest approached with his son trailing behind.
“Go home, all of you!” the Gentleman shouted. “You should have more important things to do than waste your time eyeing a beast in a cage!”
As the crowd dispersed, the Gentleman's son sat on the ground, far from the cage. The Gentleman approached Ma, his rich green robe shimmering in the evening light. The Gentleman glared at Ma.
“I saw that,” he said.
“I'm sorry, Governor,” Ma replied softly. He looked away.
Governor? Fu thought. Oh, no!
“You should be sorry,” the Governor said. “Nothing good comes to people who act the way you just did.”
Ma put his head down. The Governor put his hand on Ma's shoulder and lowered his voice. “Listen, would you do me a small favor? Could you please keep Ho occupied while I talk to the animal in the cage? Ho isn't feeling too well, understandably.”
“Sure,” Ma whispered. He walked over to Ho's side and sat down. Ma playfully punched one of Ho's skinny arms. Ho ignored him. Ma smiled and leaned over to whisper in one of Ho's ears, then stopped. He scooted over to Ho's other side and whispered into that one instead.
The Governor turned toward Fu.
“So, Beast Child,” he said. “What do you have to say for yourself?