Tiger, Tiger

Tiger, Tiger: Chapter 24

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Paws drummed against the cold, damp floor. Panted breaths hung heavy in the frigid air. Fear spread through my body like wildfire.

My body rippled and stretched into the lithe form of a cheetah. I could feel my heart beating in synchronisation with my paws, the forest flying past in a blur. Adrenaline fuelled my exhausted muscles as I pushed myself ever harder, dodging a maze of trees and rocks that lead the way to my little house on the borders.

The only things that kept running through my mind were the pack doctor’s words from years ago: “Be strong, Alexis, for your mother’s sake. She needs something to live for. She needs you.” A shiver ran down the length of my body. My father was gone and I had been taken away. Would Mum feel that she had anything left to remain for? I was terrified that I had lost her – my one true supporter.

The trees began to thin and I leapt out, paws throwing up leaves as I slid on the cobblestones. I scanned the windows desperately for some sign that Mum was within the house but no lights shone out as they would have done at this time in the evening. The fear began to twist in my chest until I could no longer breathe. The house sat watching me with empty eyes; silent, cold, mocking.

I ran to the front door and compressed my large body into that of a dormouse, using my sharp claws to scramble up the peeling paint of the aging doorframe. Falling through the other side of the letterbox, I shifted again into human form and landed awkwardly on my hands and knees. The impact felt unusually painful on my tired body.

“Mum?” I called out as I pushed myself to my feet. I pulled a coat from the coat stand and wrapped it quickly around me. “Mum? Are you here?”

I waited, shaking with exhaustion and fear, but only the cruel echo of my own voice called back to me. Stumbling down the hallway, I threw open every closed door in my path only to find the rooms pristine and empty. The house was tidier than I had ever known it, even when Mum spent her days cleaning it. The broken front door had been returned to its hinges, the smashed porcelain removed, the melted table covered stripped and the gory bloodstains wiped away. There was no warmth or scent of life.

I tripped up the stairs; my human legs wobbling like a newborn calf trying to stand. Only clean, empty rooms faced me when I flung open the doors. With each new stab of disappointment a painful lump grew within my throat that threatened to choke me with tears. I ran down the hall and fell against the last unopened door to Mum’s room.

“Please, Mother, let her be in here,” I whispered.

Taking a steadying breath, I opened the door, and cried out. Pain tore through my heart, a grief I had never felt so hideously before. There was no one there, no one at all. The world tilted suddenly and I fell back against the wall, grabbing my chest as I struggled to draw any breath into my lungs. The gasping, tearing sobs could not be held back. They only grew more hysterical with every attempt to stop them.

Surely she couldn’t be gone? In my life there had only ever been one person who had always been there for me no matter the choices I made, good or bad. How could I possibly hope to go on without her? No member of the pack would be so cruel as not to tell me that something had happened to my own mother. She had to be somewhere.