Tiger Samurai

• Chloe Wright, Grade 5, The Lakes College -
• Short Story
• 2018

Excellence Award in the 'Write Along 2018' competition

The fire flickered, making light dance on the rough, stone walls. Two figures; a small man and his tiger beside him, resting by the warmth of the flames. The man sat there with his bony legs crossed and gaze staring into the blazing fire, his expression unreadable. He was remembering his village. They were unprepared, suddenly being thrust into war. A war that they could not win. He had been the only survivor, tasked with delivering one essential message. That very scroll lay in his hands, the wax seal glistening from the heat of the flames, the fierce tiger emblem melting slightly.
As the first rays of sunlight appeared from behind the craggy mountain peaks, he stared out into the burnt pine forest, an eerie sense of foreboding washing over him, but feeling grateful that he had the guidance of his loyal companion.
Hour after hour, the leaves continued to crunch rhythmically as they walked. The man spotted a small stream ahead of them, carrying the promise of a refreshing drink. He cupped his hands and began to sip. The man’s head jerked as he heard a rustle in the gloomy foliage on the other side of the river. His companion snarled. Four sinister figures emerged, silently prowling towards them. Teeth bared, they leaped the stream, their sickly yellow eyes piercing through them. A menacing howl rang through the forest and two more silhouettes came into view, approaching from behind.
Their ribs stuck out from beneath their matted grey pelts. They had been driven to the point where they were so desperate that they would attack a formidable tiger. Suddenly, the wolves leaped forward. The man instantly swung his staff, preventing them from coming nearer. But as he swung blow after blow, he realised that it wouldn’t be long before exhaustion got the better of him. The man felt the wind being knocked out of his chest as one leapt at him, causing him to lose his footing, as well as his grip on the staff. It snarled victoriously, drawing its pointed snout closer towards the man’s face. The man knew that this was the end, that there was no hope left. Just as the beast opened his mouth, ready to lunge forward, it was startled by a booming roar. The tiger leapt at the wolf and sent it flying off his companion’s chest. Seeing their leader lying motionless on the ground the pack bolted off into the undergrowth, tail between their legs.
The feline swung his head and shared his masters gaze, his amber eyes shone in the weak sunlight. Beyond the hill was their destination, the place where they had spent weeks journeying, to deliver a sacred scroll. They came to a view of a palace, red tiles reflecting the sunlight. Hope flared in the man’s chest, this is it, he thought, the journey really has come to an end, but hopefully the start of a new beginning.