“Do you think you can beat me?” Tupa asks with a wide grin on his face. He grabs onto a rung of a ladder hanging from the tree and pulls himself up. He ascends the tree faster than I thought possible, and before I know it, he is looking down at me from the platform. I haven’t yet tested my jaguar legs and claws, though I feel the power in them as I pace back and forth underneath the tree.
“What are you waiting for, little bird? Come on. Fly!” he calls.
His teasing gives me the courage I need. I pounce onto the trunk of the tree and bound up its side, my mighty back legs launching me upwards. In moments I am standing next to him on the platform high above the ground.
“This way,” he says, and I follow him through the tree village. A few people stare momentarily as I walk past, but most of them hardly pay attention to me. Instead, the people of the village greet Tupa with warm smiles and waves. I wonder who he is to them. The people of my village do not greet each other so enthusiastically. Life is too difficult, and too much tension exists between us to allow for easy smiles and happy faces. The feeling of calm and acceptance in this village warms my heart.
Tupa leads me to the largest dwelling of the village, lifted high above the ground and resting in the midst of several grandfather trees. A torch provides light at the entrance, and an older man, nearly the same age as my father, sits in the entrance of the dwelling. He stands as we walk across the rope bridge leading to the structure and greets Tupa with open arms and a warm embrace.
“Welcome home, Tupa!” the man cries jovially. Tupa returns the embrace and stands back for the man to see me clearly.
“Allow me to introduce my friend Rosara, daughter of Rapau, chief of the jungle people,” Tupa says. He turns to face me. “This is Trumak, chieftain of the river people.”
The briefest of moments pass as understanding fills my brain. My father betrothed me to the son of the chieftain of the river people, whom I have never met, but who he believes will protect me from Maor. This man’s son is the man I refused to marry; to escape him I ran to the karawara for help. My heart skips a beat. Where is he? Inside the hut, perhaps? My curiosity rises. I wish to catch a glimpse of the man my father hopes I will wed, but I see no one.
Tupa speaks instead. “Trumak is my father, Rosara.”
I look at Tupa and finally see the man I am betrothed to marry.
Chapter 9
THE SMILE ON Tupa’s mouth does not reach his eyes. Does he realize that my father meant for me to be betrothed to him? Surely he must. Does he care? Of this I’m not so sure. I do not know my sometimes-jaguar friend well enough as a human to guess what he is thinking.
“So this is your maiden friend,” Trumak, Tupa’s father, says as if he knows me already.
“Yes, this is my friend, Father. Rosara. She met a karawara this evening, and he helped her to escape a terrible fate.” Again, the smile that does not reach his eyes. Does he refer to my being claimed by Maor or being betrothed to him? Or both? I wish he would elaborate, but he says nothing more.
“A karawara? It must have been a very terrible fate for you to seek a jungle spirit, my child,” Trumak says kindly to me, stroking the fur on my chin. I’m momentarily distracted by how pleasing that feels. “You are welcome to stay here in our village for as long as you need. Our home in the jungle is yours as well.”
Trumak stops rubbing my chin, and I regain my focus. I’m warmed by his invitation though uncertain what to make of it. I imagine what would happen if our situations were reversed and I brought Tupa to my village. Without a doubt he would meet with hostility and suspicion. Likely he would be challenged by another man in the village and possibly killed. This is the way of our village, and so it has been for generations. I don’t know how to respond to Trumak’s warm hospitality.
Tupa embraces his father again before Trumak leaves us alone, crossing the bridge and entering another dwelling. “Come, little bird. Let’s get something to eat,” Tupa says, and I follow him into the hut. A small fire sits atop the center of a large, concave stone, its smoke curling up and out of the hut through a small hole in the palm-thatched roof.
Hanging from the curved branches forming the structure of the roof are thin liana vines holding several fat fish over the fire. Tupa releases several of the fish, cupping them in large, waxy leaves. He places them on the floor for me.
“Please eat,” he says.
I try to eat slowly, appreciatively, but the fish are gone instantly. I swallow them whole, bones and all. Tupa has barely begun to eat his. My jaguar stomach growls. Evidently it finds a few fish to be a meager meal. Tupa smiles and hands me his as well.
“Don’t worry. I can find something else to eat.”
I finish the rest of his meal and decide to try out my voice again. I make several attempts, but I only manage a rather weak roar. Tupa chuckles at me. “Give it time,” he says, “I know it will come.”
I still have so many unanswered questions. He looks back at me, frowns, and looks away. I wonder briefly if I have done something to offend him, and then he speaks.
“There is something I must admit to you,” he says in a voice barely above a whisper. My jaguar ears pick up every word clearly. “I, too, sought out a karawara to escape a fate that I thought I could not live with. My father revealed to me many moons ago that I was betrothed to a girl of another village, and if her father invoked the right of betrothal, then I would be bound to her in marriage. It was a bargain my father made long ago, when I was just a child. I had no say in the betrothal, no choice, which is so important to my people. I thought I could never love a woman I had not chosen for myself. I did not know it would be you.”
For the moment I am glad that I cannot speak, for I’m not sure what I would say if I could. I want to know more. Does he wish he had not become a beast? Does he wish I had not?
“The day I met you in the tree and realized who you were was the first time I regretted my choice. Until then I thought you were just the spoiled, chieftain’s daughter of a backward tribe. I’d met your father on occasion and had come to respect him, but the stories of the jungle dwellers . . .” He pauses and I look away.
It isn’t until this moment that I even consider the situation from his point of view. What must have it been like for him to find out that he was betrothed to a girl of a faraway tribe, used to a life of savagery? What must he have thought of me before we actually met? The karawara’s words from earlier ring in my ears: “She is not so different from you, is she, Tupa?” No wonder he, too, sought out the magic of the karawara. He was just as scared as I.
“I tried to tell you who I was this morning, when I found you in the jungle. I wanted to. But the magic of the karawara keeps me from revealing my true self while I am in my jaguar form.”
I bring the memory of this morning to my mind. It feels like a lifetime ago that I found Pucu’s slain body hidden in the jungle.
“And then you said the words that made it impossible for me tell you more,” he continued. “You asked me to take you to the karawara. Their magic has bound me to them as a servant. If anyone requests an audience with a karawara, I must obey. I tried to fight against it, but ultimately I had no choice.
“You are bound to them now too, Rosara. I am so sorry. I wanted to tell you, to protect you from this, but . . .” His voice trails off into silence. We sit together, neither of us saying anything, while the fire burns down.
Trumak enters the hut. “It is late, son. We should sleep.”
Tupa nods at his father, and before long Trumak is snoring in a hammock. Another empty hammock hangs loose in the hut, but Tupa does not climb into it. Instead he slides his body down to the floor. I lie down next to him, but he does not touch me. Though there are only a few inches between us, the distance feels much greater. Was it only this afternoon that I woke up next to his jaguar body with his arm embracing me? It feels so long ago.
“Goodnight, little bird,” Tupa says, closing his eyes.
I stay until I know he is asleep
. The change in his breathing indicates when it is safe to go. My jaguar paws are silent as I exit the hut and leave the village to enter the darkness of the jungle.
It is as if I have entered a new world. Everywhere, I see and hear the heartbeat of a jungle that I never knew existed. Even though I’ve lived in the midst of the jungle my entire life, I had no idea how much life exists here. The flora and fauna overwhelm me with beauty, and I feel deprived that as a jaguar I cannot cry for joy. I expect I will shed many tears in the morning when I return to my natural form.
What will I do in the morning when I return to normal? I cannot go to my father’s village. That was the whole reason I sought the karawara for help. But in my human form I will not be safe in the jungle, at least, not without help. Perhaps I should return to Tupa’s village during the day. His father is so warm and inviting; indeed, his entire village is quite unlike my own home.
A great need fills me as I think of my father and the village I have known my whole life. I do not wish to return there to live, but I long to see it with my jaguar eyes. Just for a moment.
I move through the jungle with purpose, following the scent trail left behind when Tupa and I traveled to his village. I’m amazed by how obvious the trail is to my nose, even more than to my eyes, though I can also see every blade of grass that bent beneath our feet as we walked. No wonder Tupa knew where I lived in the village that first day we met.
I follow the trail all the way to the river, and then wade across the pool where I transformed into a beast. How quickly my life has changed—how my world has changed. It is difficult for me to consider all the implications of my decision to seek the karawara for help.
The trail continues through the forest, though this time the human scent is my own. How strange I smell to my own nose. Stranger still is Tupa’s jaguar scent. Its muskiness wafts through the air like perfume, impossible to ignore. It is everywhere. This land has been clearly marked as his territory. I approach the village and find that his scent is strongest in the trees nearest my father’s plot under the shabono. Tupa was here many times, watching me from the safety of the jungle.
Movement from the shabono catches my eye, and I push aside thoughts of Tupa and concentrate my other senses on what is happening in the village below. Men are gathering in a corner of the village. Weapons are being stacked. Someone is sharpening the stone blade of a spear. I leave the safety of the tree and silently tread around the shabono to crouch where I can more clearly see what is happening.
“We’ll start the hunt at first light,” I hear my father say.
“We should go now!” a man yells, challenging my father. I know his voice as well. Maor.
“It will be safer to wait until dawn,” my father explains.
“My first wife is dead! None of us are safe. Even your daughter was not safe from the beast. No doubt it killed her as it killed Pucu. Would you leave her body to rot in the jungle and have her spirit walk in agony for eternity? We must avenge our women and kill the beast!”
Men’s voices ring in the air in support of Maor. My heart sinks.
“Rosara’s body was not in the jungle. My own wives showed us where the great jaguar walked out of the jungle near Pucu’s body, but we do not know for certain what happened to my daughter. It is possible she is still alive. We do not even have proof that the great jaguar killed your first wife, Maor. You have quickly forgotten that it was the beast who saved my daughter from—”
Maor interrupts before my father can finish. “What more proof do you need than the torn body of my first wife? What other monster could do that besides the one we have seen stalking our village? We should kill the beast!”
More men join in the cry, echoing Maor’s words: “Kill the beast!”
I do not realize that I have been walking closer to the village until the voices stop and I see the terrified eyes of my father staring into mine.
“I am not dead!” I cry out, but my voice is not my own. The men step back, fear etched across their faces.
“Rosara?” my father says. I turn my head to look at him. He is the only man who has not stepped away from me in fear. How he recognizes me I cannot guess. He holds his hand out as if to touch me.
“A white jaguar can mean only one thing. It is her ghost!” Maor yells. “Rosara’s spirit is here to punish us for leaving her body to decay in the jungle.”
“No!” I yell, but instead my roar sounds like an affirmation of Maor’s proclamation. The men nod their heads and then lift their voices in agreement. “We must avenge her death. Kill the beast!”
Frustration seizes me. If only I could talk, tell them what happened. Tell them I am still alive and that Tupa had nothing to do with my death or Pucu’s. But of course Maor knows that Tupa did not kill Pucu. He is only using this opportunity to his advantage, and I’ve practically handed him another reason to hunt Tupa.
Anger wells up within me. My muscles grow taut. Maor raises his spear toward the sky above with a war cry, and I can hold back my rage no longer. Anger pours out through my roar as I spring, knocking him to the ground. His hands and feet are quick to push me off, but I am quicker, and I graze him with my claws, leaving a red gash oozing across his chest.
Maor scrambles backward out of my reach, but my anger is not yet satiated. I lunge again, and he barely escapes my jaws as another tribesman jumps between us. This man is not so lucky though—my jaws clamp down on his forearm. The unfortunate man’s scream rips through the air along with the crunching of bone as his arm snaps between my teeth.
I open my mouth, horrified at what I’ve just done. Then pain explodes in my side. I turn my head and see a spear jabbed into the haunch of my leg. The hand holding it is my father’s. He pulls it out and I roar in agony.
The men of the village begin to surround me, their spears held high to strike as well. In a moment I will be dead. And after me, they will likely hunt down Tupa. Though I would happily give my life if it meant stopping Maor, I cannot allow them to harm Tupa. I must warn him.
I stumble backward toward the jungle as waves of pain flow from the wound down through my leg. Maor stands with difficulty but then grabs his spear and trains it on me. Father grasps his shoulder, giving me the chance I need. I turn and leap back into the jungle and allow the darkness of the night to cloak me. Several thrown spears follow me into the jungle, but the men are frightened and do not take careful aim. They miss.
I flee to the outskirts of the village and listen to the men plot their revenge. Maor speaks, and I hear his voice rising in the night, mingled with pain and rage:
“This is a sign, brothers! Rosara’s spirit is angry and must be avenged. As soon as my wounds are bound, we will hunt. Then we will kill the beast that caused all this misery.”
Voices of men agree and cry out for Tupa’s death. I listen closely for the voice of my father to disagree and contradict Maor’s attempt to lead the men of the village. This is his village. He is the chief.
But I do not hear his voice. I realize that my father is the chieftain no more.
Chapter 10
MY HAUNCH ACHES and my leg stiffens more and more as I make my way back through the jungle. I know I am bleeding out, but I cannot stop moving. I need to get to Tupa. Warn him. Stop Maor.
I hear the river calling me, and I follow its gentle voice until I can walk no further. I’m near the pool where I saw the jungle king become a man. Where I made my choice to leave my village forever. I don’t regret that decision even now, when I can no longer walk. No longer move. No longer open my eyes.
I don’t know how much time has passed when I hear the sound of splashing in the river and catch Tupa’s human scent. I smell it long before I hear his voice call out my name.
But my eyes will not open. It hurts. I hurt.
Tupa’s arms encircle me, lift my head and shoulders off the ground and into his lap. “Rosara, what happened?” he asks.
I want to laugh at how ludicrous his question is. Even if I could muster the energy to a
nswer him, he would not be able to understand my jaguar voice. Fighting against the inertia of the dull pain that wants to pull me back into sleep, I open my eyes.
Tupa’s face is only inches from my own, his eyes glassy with tears threatening to spill out at any moment. His hand strokes my cheek, and he murmurs soft, comforting words into my ears as his other hand tentatively searches the skin surrounding my wound. The jungle is lighter. It is nearly dawn. Tupa and I must get to the river before it is too late.
I try to stand, but my hind legs will not work. Tupa attempts to help me to my feet, but I collapse with the first step.
“The magic of the river will help to heal you,” he whispers to me. I hold onto his promise, hoping it is true and not just his wishful thinking.
He encircles my torso with his strong arms and begins to drag me to the river. He struggles to heave my body across the ground until we enter the river and the buoyancy of the water lifts my body, making it easier for him to carry me to the slowly moving pool. My head rests against his shoulder, and we wait for the moment when the world is neither day nor night, but that magical moment in between. The colors of the forest sharpen. A hush falls as newly woken animals stop their chattering in reverence for this magical moment.
Tupa smiles down at me. “It will be all right,” he says, and then he pushes me under the water.
I thought I knew pain.
I was wrong.
My jaguar body convulses and spasms as my limbs elongate and change. I can feel my bones break, reattach, and break again. I can’t breathe. I can’t see. I feel nothing but pain.
I don’t understand. My transformation to a jaguar was completely painless. Why does it hurt so much now?
I know it has been only moments since Tupa pushed me under the water’s surface, but the agony makes it seem like an eternity while I’m awash in wave after wave of pain. Finally it begins to subside. My body stops jerking in Tupa’s arms. I am able to relax in the buoyant embrace of the river.
Five Enchanted Roses: A Collection of Beauty and the Beast Stories Page 29
