“Brilliant,” Mouse said. “Where should we go to meet them?”
“We should find the creature first. The hunters will have their horn with them, and we should be able to track them using that. Our plan will be useless if we meet the hunters before the creature reincarnates.”
They sped down the path and reached the tree where they had first encountered the tiger. It was empty. They listened to the stillness of the forest. Mouse closed her eyes, trying to pinpoint any change in the trees.
As if on cue, a growl split the silence, and a force collided with Mouse. She fell to the ground. Her sleeve caught on the rocks, ripping at the shoulder. She opened her eyes to find the tiger crouched low over her, its jaws open and its eyes burning. She screamed and threw out her legs to kick the animal. At the same time, a half-formed bolt of electricity hit the tiger in the side and skimmed over Mouse’s pinned hands. The tiger vaulted back. It hissed and circled as Thornwood lifted Mouse to her feet.
“We are trying to help you, wretch,” Thornwood snapped. He flicked his hand, and a crackling whip of green lightning extended from his palm, curling on the ground at his feet. Thornwood’s magic winked in and out as it vibrated against the ground. Mouse saw beads of sweat spring up on his forehead as the magic flickered.
The tiger’s eyes trained on the lash, and it bared its teeth.
Thornwood twisted his wrist, and the whip cracked outward to the side of the cat. It watched the whip but did not budge.
The horn sounded. Mouse waited anxiously for the creature to dash away as it had before, but it did not. Instead, its eyes focused onthe lash. Its ears flicked back to the path every few seconds, but it did not move.
“I do not want to hurt you,” Thornwood said, “but if you make me, I will force you down to meet the hunt. Perhaps the spell will end if you destroy each other.”
The whip slithered over the ground, and the tiger moved its head in line with it.
“Wait, Thornwood,” Mouse said. He paused midlift. The electricity crackled at his side. “Do that again.”
“I was just about to.”
“Not the full lash, just the shake.”
His brow furrowed, but he shook the lash as she directed. The creature’s head followed it in a tight squiggle. Mouse bit down around a delighted, if hysterical, laugh.
“It is just a big cat. If we are careful, we can lure it out,” she said. The creature’s tail twitched, but its eyes were trained to the whip’s tip.
21
It took longer than she expected to corral the creature to the main trail, even with Thornwood dragging the whip behind them.
The horn sounded, the piercing notes resounding with less time between each blow. The tiger did not dart away at the noise.
Mouse could not shake the feeling that the sound was like a clock chiming, emphasizing each moment she lost to the Tapestry Hunt.
Finally, they reached the path. It was deserted. Thornwood shook the lash once more before he let the magic crackle and die. They waited for the tiger to leap out of the dark onto the path, but it did not. It merely watched them as the horn’s cry split through the air.
It flexed its claws.
“I do not think this will work,” Thornwood said.
“I will go further down the path,” Mouse said. “Hide. Wait for the first hunters to ride by you.”
“On your signal,” he sighed, waving her off. “Yes, yes. Go before they catch up and we must wait for another cycle to start. And, Mouse…please try to act sensibly. I do not want to have to heal you again.”
Mouse nodded before creeping down the path, her eyes never leaving the tiger. It remained in its hiding spot, facing the direction of the horn.
When she was far enough away to allow the parade of hunters ample space between her and Thornwood, she stepped slightly off the path. She rubbed a bit of dirt and greenery over her face and yanked on her left sleeve where it had ripped during the tiger’s attack. It came away and hung loosely to her elbow. Before she could try any other adjustments, the golden hunters appeared.
They were as overwhelming a sight the second time as the first. Their banners trailed out behind them, waving in a nonexistent breeze. Some wore helmets that sparkled like the sun, while others had embroidered hats that flopped along the sides of their heads in elegant puddles.
The horses were glorious, too, resplendent with carved leather that highlighted their riders’ boots. Their manes were either tied in elaborate braids or left loose to flow down their backs. The Dewhurst coat of arms decorated their flanks.
When the last rider passed her, Mouse stumbled onto the path. She held one hand out to them while she clutched her waist with the other.
“Help,” she cried.