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Yuki studies the snowy crest as the ki rin runs. Is that a splash of blue
and white on the slope? She keeps her fears to herself. Then the rain
begins.
It is a slick rain, icy rain, rain that tastes of salt and sea. She does not
need to be a ki rin to know that this is more of the blue and white tiger s
magic. Taking Baby from her back, she cradles him in her arms and bears
the storm s fury on her bowed back and head. In time, her tears add to the
salt storm s force.
Despite the rain, they continue on and then, unbeliev-ably, the ki rin
stumbles, tries to recover, then falls, her horn plowing through the mud. Her
knees smash into the wet earth and she lets out a tiny wail of pain.
Jolted, Yuki is thrown forward, only her arms entangled in the ki rin s
mane saving her from falling to the ground. From the cradle-board, Baby
shrills more in anger than in fear.
Yuki slides to the muddy ground and strokes the ki r-in s head.
O-sensei, how badly are you hurt?
The ki rin blinks, her pearl eyes washed with red. She weeps tears
that look like blood.
I hurt terribly, Yuki. My front legs ache like fire in the bones.
Will you . . . will you die?
I cannot die. I am immortal. The ki rin staggers to her cloven
hooves. But I cannot run. Certainly, I cannot run with a burden.
Then we will walk, Yuki says bravely.
That we must, the ki rin agrees. Perhaps we can outwalk this
storm.
They struggle on. The ki rin limps, favoring her fore-legs, right over
left. Yuki holds Baby, who grows increas-ingly still as he becomes colder
and wetter.
Then, like a beacon through the rain, they see a cottage. It is small
with a thatched roof, and mud and daub walls. A thin but steady stream of
smoke comes from the cobble-stone chimney.
Ahead the cloud cover is thinning and the sun can be seen, past apex
now.
Let us rest here, Yuki begs, when the ki rin would have limped
onward. Baby is cold and miserable. So am I.
And so am I, the ki rin admits, but Baby will stay ill if we do not get
to the shrine before sunset.
Yuki brightens. Does that mean that you are the Healer?
The ki rin shakes the rain from her mane. I cannot say, Yuki. All I am
saying is that there is no chance for Baby to be healed if we do not reach
the shrine.
Baby sneezes.
Please, o-sensei. Let us rest, just for a short time!
As you wish, Yuki, the ki rin sighs.
Yuki hurries forward and raps on the door. It opens almost as soon as
the sound dies off. A monk stands there, dressed in a robe of white belted
with blue. He steps back and bows deeply.
Come to my fire, travelers. I have tea, seaweed cakes, and rice to
warm you.
Yuki bows as deeply as she can with the baby in her arms. The ki rin
also bows, although more slowly, tracing a crescent on the floor with her
horn. Then she limps into the cottage.
Tea, ladies?
Thank you, Yuki says, and may I have some hot water for the
baby?
Of course.
The monk busies himself serving tea, pouring a deep, shallow bowl
for the ki rin and heaping seaweed cakes on a flat tray that he sets by her
head.
You appear to be wounded, he says softly, ki rin.
I am, she glances down to her bruised legs.
I have a salve. Let me anoint your wounds.
She looks into the monk s eyes. They are blue.
Very well. I would be appreciative.
The monk fetches a carved soapstone jar filled with a sweet-scented
unguent. Dipping two fingers into the un-guent he rubs it into the ki rin s
bruises. Her eyes lose their pinkness; then her eyelids grow heavy and she
drifts to sleep.
Yuki watches with a mixture of fear and relief. Baby drowses now, his
wet clothing steaming in front of the fire.
The rainstorm is moving on, the monk says, standing at the window
and looking out.
How long until the ki rin awakes?
You can awaken her now, the monk replies, but let her sleep. She
is in pain.
But I need her to take me to the shrine at the moun-tain s crest
before sunset, Yuki says, and the sun is setting.
Why do you need to go there?
Baby is ill and the ki rin is helping me take her to the shrine she is
my champion against his illness.
Have you chosen the correct champion?
I hope so, Yuki says softly. It is too late to change.
Is it? the monk asks. As you can see, I have the gift of healing.
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