In an effort to remain as inconspicuous as possible, Fu rolled over onto his stomach and lay motionless with only his bald head visible above the waterline. A slight movement in the brush caught his eye. He strained to make out exactly who was spying on him. It turned out to be the tiger cub.
“What are you looking at?” Fu called out angrily as he stood, certain that he would scare the cub off. Instead, the cub cocked its head inquisitively to one side, listening.
“Look what you've made me do! My clothes didn't even have a chance to dry out from lying in that stupid barrel last night, and now the scrolls are soaked, too!”
The cub tilted its head the other way.
“I save your life, and this is how you thank me?”
The cub stepped a little closer to the pool, and Fu noticed for the first time two large blotches of bright red on one of the cub's sides. Both spots were definitely blood, and they looked bad. The wounds from the spear must be deep. The cub was still bleeding. It took another step toward the pool, wobbling slightly, and lowered its head to drink.
Watching the cub slowly lap up the water, Fu wondered what it ate. He hadn't eaten since supper the night before, and he had worked up a ferocious appetite. Now that he had quenched his thirst, he needed to find some food. Perhaps the hunters had had a camp, and maybe they had left some food there. Fu decided to take a look.
After a little more bending and twisting, Fu felt confident that the long scratch from the mother tiger was not infected. He stuck his backside down into the cool water and wiggled around to flush out the wound—just in case—then sloshed back onto dry land.
Fu shivered. It was the season of Plum Blossoms, and the air was chilly. At least the days and nights would be growing warmer. If it were the season of Falling Plums, he would have nothing but colder days and very cold nights to look forward to. Fu nodded to the cub and headed back toward the clearing where he had encountered the hunters. For some reason the cub followed on its unsteady legs. Curious, Fu called to it several times, but the cub wouldn't get close to him. In fact, it lagged farther and farther behind with each step. Fu soon gave up.
Fu made it back to the large clearing, and the cub was nowhere in sight. It must have moved on alone. Or perhaps it just didn't want to go near its dead mother in the pit. Fu decided to steer clear of the pit, too. He already had enough bad memories.
While crisscrossing the clearing, Fu found the bag of antiseptic herbs the first hunter had mentioned. It must have fallen to the ground during their fight. He picked it up. He made a couple more passes across the clearing but found nothing more.
Fu decided to try and locate the hunters' camp next. As he looked for tracks left by the hunters on the hard ground, he thought he heard something. No, actually it was more like he felt something. It felt like someone was calling him. Fu looked around, but there was no one there. Still, the feeling grew stronger and stronger. He had never felt anything quite like it. He closed his eyes, trying to make sense of it. An image of the tiger cub suddenly popped into his mind. A memory. The tiger cub stood on wobbly legs next to the pool, then it followed him unsteadily for a short while until Fu finally lost sight of it. Had something happened to the cub? Fu decided to go back and take a look.
Fu only had to backtrack a little ways before he found the cub collapsed on the forest floor. It was panting heavily, its eyes rolled back in its head. Fu approached cautiously, but it became obvious almost immediately that caution wasn't necessary. The cub didn't seem to notice he was there.
Fu realized he was still holding the herb pouch. He untied the cord that kept it closed and dumped the contents onto a bed of damp leaves next to the cub's head. Fu didn't recognize all of the items, but there was one thing he noticed immediately: bloodmoss. He had no idea if it would work on a tiger, but he figured it couldn't hurt to try.
Fu quickly searched the ground and found two rocks that would serve his purpose. As fast as he could manage, he pounded, lubricated, and applied the healing paste. To his surprise, the cub's panting slowed after he plugged the first wound. The bloodmoss seemed to work for the cub, just like it worked for him. After he patched up the second wound, the cub's eyes rolled back to their normal position, and the cub stared at him as if trying to tell him something. Fu leaned his face in close to the cub's face, their noses nearly touching. The cub's raspy tongue rolled slowly out of its mouth, and Fu saw a thin line of blood lazily run out of a small cut near the tongue's tip. Fu did his best not to flinch as the rough tongue slid up the side of his right cheek, tearing open a small section of the long cut from Ying's chain whip. Fu knew in his heart that the cub's grateful thank-you had just made them blood brothers. The cub seemed to know it, too. It blinked three times in quick succession, then closed its eyes and drifted off to sleep.