ROAR

Volume 7

Legendary

Edited by Mary E. Lowd

Bad Dog Books

2016

ROAR Volume 7

First publication 2016

Edited by Mary E. Lowd

Cover by Kadath

Copyright © 2016

Published by Bad Dog Books

www . baddogbooks . com

All stories copyright their respective authors.

Print ISBN: 978-1-61450-327-9

eBook ISBN: 978-1-61450-328-6

All works here are printed with expressed permission from their authors.

No portion of this work may be reproduced in any form, in any medium, without expressed permission from the copyright holder.

Table of Contents

Crouching Tiger, Standing Crane

Kyla Chapek

The Frog Who Swallowed the Moon

Renee Carter Hall

The Torch

Chris “Sparf” Williams

A Rock Among Millions

Skunkbomb

The Pigeon Who Wished For Golden Feathers

Corgi W.

Unbalanced Scales

Bill Kieffer

Reason

Heidi C. Vlach

Old-Dry-Snakeskin

Ross Whitlock

Kitsune Tea

E.A. Lawrence

A Touch of Magic

John B. Rosenman

Long Time I Hunt

Erin Lale

The Butterfly Effect

Jay “Shirou” Coughlan

The Roar

John Giezentanner

Trust

TJ

The Golden Flowers

Priya Sridhar

A Thousand Dreams

Amy Fontaine

Puppets

Ellis Aen

About the Authors

For Fred Patten

Thank you for being a true legend of the furry fandom.

Foreword

Welcome to a LEGENDARY volume of ROAR! That’s right, the theme for the seventh volume is legend, and it will take you on a journey from a fortune teller’s bamboo hut to the end of the world in the coils of a dead snake god, back in time to the Cretaceous and then up to the stars. You’ll meet tigers and cranes practicing Kung Fu, a singing frog, a gambling pigeon, a rap-star bearded dragon, a rhinoceros who’s friends with a goat, and several creatures you’ve probably never seen before.

Last year when I edited ROAR 6, I actively searched for stories, seeking out submissions both inside and outside of the fandom. This year, I waited to see what stories would come, and I was amazed by what happened. In spite of taking a more hands-off approach to gathering submissions, the slush pile this year increased in both size and quality.

While I’m reading through the slush pile, I like to joke that I’m reading ROAR: The Complete Unabridged Slush Pile Edition. Well, this year, that was a pretty darn good book. It’s hard to reject stories when so many of them are really good. Of course, choices have to be made, and I believe that you’re holding an excellent tome of furry fiction in your hands—the kind of book that you can sink into and lose yourself to the characters and worlds.

The seventeen stories in this collection will take you on epic journeys and then bring you home for small, meaningful moments. Because sometimes legends loom large, but sometimes they turn out to just be stories.

Let the legends begin…

-Mary E. Lowd

Crouching Tiger, Standing Crane

We begin with a clash of dynasties, and a story that stretches across generations. Born from love and tragedy, this is the legend of tiger-crane style.

Crouching Tiger, Standing Crane

Kyla Chapek

The fortuneteller’s bamboo hut was dimly lit by flickering candlelight. The air smelled sickly sweet from incense and opium smoke. Hesitantly the three young university students filed in through the doorway, which creaked closed behind them shutting out the cool night air. Though the outside of the hut looked dilapidated, the inside was neat and richly decorated with silk curtains and painted paper screens. A semi-transparent veil divided the one room shack, and the students could not see clearly beyond the veil. However, the outline of the fortuneteller was easily defined sitting on the other side of the curtain.

“Why have you come?” came a purring female voice from beyond the veil.

The voice made the students shudder. Whiskers twitched, feathers ruffled, scales quivered. The trio nearly lost their nerves. Then the boldest of them approached the veil. He was snake clan; his green scales looked black in the dim light. The son of the snake clan slithered forward and then removed his silk red hat with the end of his long tail. He bowed with respect before he hissed, “We have come for a story, Auntie Tigress.”

The outline behind the veil chuckled. “There are many stories to tell, Si Dai. Do the three of you wish to hear what fortunes tomorrow brings you?”

“We wish to hear stories of the past,” squawked one of the snake’s companions. The son of the crane clan also wore a red silk hat, as well as a blue silk tunic with their University logo stitched over the left breast. He flapped his wings with urgency. “We wish to hear the story of the tiger-crane style. People say you’re the only one that knows the truth.”

This piqued the fortuneteller’s interest. There were few that knew she could tell such a story. She parted the curtain slightly with the end of her pipe to take a better look at her visitors. A son of the fox, crane, and snake clans; all wearing the same uniforms. By their body language the three were friendly and familiar with each other. This pleasantly surprised the old mixed breed tigress. Any unnecessary cross clan interaction was highly frowned upon by the old dynasty. Back when she was a cub a snake could eat at a fox’s restaurant, or buy fish from a crane, but it was abnormal for them to be in the same social circles and they were rarely educated together. The Manchu had upheld a strict separate but equal policy between the clans. Many things had changed since the revolution.

“Sit,” commanded the fortuneteller, letting the curtain fall closed.

The three students got situated on cushions in front of the outline of the fortuneteller. “Did you bring the offerings?” she purred.

Three bowls were scooted underneath the curtain; one in front of each student. Each student filled their bowl with an item and scooted the bowl back under the curtain. The fortuneteller accepted the pouch of opium, gourd of wine, and sack of gold happily. Though she was less happy to recount the tale the trio sought. So many sad memories and restless ghosts to conjure up.

At least the opium and wine helped with that. The tigress packed her pipe with the contents from the pouch and took a drag from the long slender pipe. Her whole body relaxed and a pleasant shiver ran across her skin that made her striped and blotched fur stand on end. She then took a long pull from the wine gourd. The tigress had inherited both her father’s skills and bad habits.

The trio started to become restless from the fortuneteller’s extended silence. They had paid the proper offering, and they deserved a proper story. The tigress sighed, closed her eyes, and began to speak.

“To understand the story of the tiger-crane style you must go back years before its conception. The Manchurian government of the Qing dynasty had become corrupt beyond measure. At the same time the Shaolin style had become popular, gaining great respect and power within the martial arts world. The Manchu bastards feared this power. They also hated that the Shaolin allowed all clans, hunter, fisherman, and farmer class alike, to train side by side. The Manchu set out to destroy the many Shaolin temples throughout the country.

“One of the many pawns they used to destroy the Shaolin was one of the Five Elders, Pak Mei, who was one of the survivors of the original sack of the Southern Shaolin Temple. He was later captured, betrayed the Shaolin to save his closest comrades, and led the second imperial attack on the Shaolin temple, killing Jee Sin, another of the Five Elders, in the process. An act that set the fateful events in motion that led to the creation of the tiger-crane style. But our story begins with the first sack of the Shaolin temple and with two of Jee Sin’s students who survived.”

***

The sun shone red through the thick black smoke that rose from the Shaolin Temple. Hoong Hei Khoon, a young orange and black striped Bengal tiger, shook with rage inside as he ran alongside his master and comrades. Khoon’s master, Jee Sin, another orange and black Bengal tiger signaled for the group of injured and tired Shaolin monks to stop and rest. He must have felt they had fled far enough for the moment. Khoon collapsed in a tired heap next to his best friend, Wu Wai Thien, another Bengal son of the tiger clan. They were lucky to be alive, many of their brothers laid dead back at the temple.

“What are we going to do, Sifu?” asked Thien, wincing as he struggled to his feet.

Jee Sin clutched his bloodied sword tightly and considered their options. Blood reddened the fur on his paws and brow. “We must scatter. Thien, you and half those of the tiger clan will come with me to Nine Lotus Mountain in Fujian. Pak Mei and the other Elders have fled there to take shelter. From there we will rebuild the temple farther south.”

“Yes, Sifu.”

“Khoon!”

“Yes, Sifu.” Khoon was helped to his feet by Thien.

“Take the rest of the tigers and the other clans to the boats. Scatter to the four winds and do as we have discussed. Wherever the injustice of the Manchu exists so must be the Shaolin. We must sow the seeds of rebellion throughout the land if we ever wish to rid our country of this scum.”

“It will be done, Sifu.” Khoon covered his right paw with his left and saluted his master. Jee Sin returned the salute and saluted the rest of his students.

As the tigers divided themselves, Khoon and Thien embraced in goodbye. They had been together since they were cubs and it seemed surreal parting under such circumstances. “Take care, Si Heng,” said Khoon.

“Until we meet again, Si Dai,” said Thien, and then the groups parted ways.

***

Khoon divided the monks by clan into the boats and sent them to the four winds like his master had commanded. Khoon’s group of fellow Bengal tigers, clouded leopards, and snow leopards headed east. The fleet of Shaolin ships came to be known as the Red Boats. Day in and day out the monks continued to practice the ways of Shaolin on the decks of their boats under the guise of traveling performers. Wherever they went they used their skills of Shaolin to fight the injustice of the Manchu.

One day Khoon’s boat sailed along the Yellow River and took anchor at a small river town to restock on supplies, earn some coin, and gather news. To keep up the guise of performers the boys made a big spectacle of exiting the boat. It caught the eye of travelers and locals that might be interested in watching the evening show.

The clouded leopards, with grey and blotched fur patterns, leapt from the starboard side of the ship before they were even properly docked. In tandem they landed on the dock on their front paws and somersaulted forward. As the boat was tied off, the snow leopards, their spotted fur smoky grey with white undertones, leapt into the air. They landed in the waiting arms of the clouded leopards who launched them back into the air. The snow leopards flipped through the air and landed on their hind paws with perfect grace and balance. A growing crowd of onlookers applauded.

Lastly, to get the attention of anyone who wasn’t already looking, Khoon, along with the other Bengals, let out a ferocious roar and leapt from the boat and landed in the midst of the leopards. The leopards immediately closed in on the Bengals and the group began to mock fight, slowly moving the show off the docks and into the town square. The crowd, mostly made up of crane and otter clan, along with a few other fisherman clans, eagerly followed the show.

Reaching the town square, Khoon noticed a show already in progress. A small crowd encircled two cranes. An elder male crane struck out at a younger she-crane with a spear. The she-crane artfully twirled out of the spear’s reach, the blade coming close enough to ruffle feathers.

Khoon guided his troop a respectful distance away and continued their performance. It wasn’t long before the crowd gathered around the cranes were drawn away to watch the more ferocious looking style of the tiger clan Khoon’s group displayed. When it was clear their audience was lost the elder crane shook his head sadly and began to pack up his spears. There would be other days. His niece took the snub of the crowd less gracefully.

The hotheaded Foong Chet Leong gathered up one of her uncle’s spears and cast it into the midst of the dancing kittens. It stabbed in the ground at the feet of a particularly cocky looking snow leopard, right where she had been aiming. The look of surprise on his face made Leong snort with satisfaction. The crowd oohed at the challenge. The snow leopard Han’s look of surprise turned into a mischievous smile. He walked forward to accept the challenge.

Han retracted his claws as he approached the she-crane. He didn’t want to hurt the fragile creature, just use enough strength to put her in her place. Han made a big show of taking the tiger style stance, knees bent ready to spring, forepaws crossed in front of him left over right. In response Leong took on the strange looking crane style stance with her webbed feet pointing inward and her knees bent at an angle that would only be natural to the physique of a spindly legged crane.

With victory visualized within three moves Han sprung towards the crane, the crowd forming a new circle around the duel. Han lashed out with a fraction of his strength, aiming for the weak pressure points he had been taught since cubhood. To Han’s surprise his strikes were gently brushed to the side by the crane’s wings. Not exactly sure what had happened, Han lashed out again with a different combination. With the most subtle movements of her wings the crane brushed the trajectory of the leopard’s strikes just off target. She then followed it up with a neck chop that surprised Han in its strength and forced him to stumble backwards.

Han’s breath caught in his throat from the blow. The derisive sniff the crane gave him and the catcalls from the crowd made his fur bristle and anger burn in his gut. Han redoubled his attack, holding less back this time.

Khoon allowed the exchange to continue for a time. There was no real harm in it and to be honest Khoon was more than a bit transfixed by the she-crane. Her long slender body moved with such grace and control. Her strikes were executed with perfect accuracy and surprising power. The she-crane wasted no energy in her movements.

A warmth stirred in Khoon’s middle that surprised him. In his youth tigresses had never strongly aroused his passions, allowing him to focus all his energies on Kung Fu and the way of the Shaolin. It was strange to him that this crane with such a foreign body from his own would stir such feelings within him.

As Khoon watched the duel he found himself entirely blocking out the world around him. His vision narrowed in on the she-crane’s face: the sharp curve of her olive green beak, the patch of red bare skin on her crown, the downy pearly grey feathers around her eyes, throat, and neck; the rest of her feathers that were visible were snow white except for the secondary feathers at the tips of her wings, which were black. Khoon had never seen anything so beautiful.

Khoon was so transfixed by Leong’s beauty it took him a few moments to realize the duel was getting out of hand. Han, who had begun the fight relaxed and controlled, was now letting his wounded pride get the better of him. Han lashed out with deadly force, his claws extended. Leong’s defense remained flawless, but it only took one wrong move and Han could obliterate the crane’s fragile body. The thought filled Khoon with such a sense of fear and dread he didn’t even think before rushing in between the two.

Khoon blocked a powerful strike from Han, grasped his wrist, and used his own momentum to spin him into the crowd of onlookers. As Khoon was Han’s Si Heng, his elder brother, Han should know to back down now that Khoon had interfered. Khoon did not get a chance to ensure this, however, as Leong struck out at the newcomer with surprising ferocity.

Removing Han from the fray had left Khoon open and Leong delivered a series of whipping blows to his ribs. Khoon winced and re-centered his focus. He had seen the crane style before, but there had been no practitioners of it at his temple, and he had little experience with the style. Despite this he was able to block another series of blows and pushed the crane back a few feet with an open palm to her chest. Khoon kept his claws retracted and purposefully missed the most vital points.

“Please, no more, I apologize for my friend…” Khoon tried to placate the crane. The last thing he wanted was to accidently hurt her.

She didn’t listen. With a flurry of white and black feathers she attacked. Leong slipped her wings in-between Khoon’s paws and batted them outwards to either side, at the same time she struck out with her beak and delivered a sharp blow to Khoon’s forehead. Khoon stumbled backwards dizzy and half blind.

Khoon resisted his instincts to blindly lash out. He didn’t want to hurt the she-crane by accident. Leong continued her attack with more pecks to the head with her beak and several whipping blows with her wings.

“Enough, Leong!” A spear stabbed into the dirt, separating Khoon and Leong.

“But, Uncle,” huffed Leong.

The elder crane gave his niece a hard look. “Can you not see that he is not fighting back? You shame yourself if you continue.”

Leong dipped her head in shame and abandoned her fighting stance. Leong’s uncle walked over to Khoon and helped the tiger to his feet. “My apologies for my niece. She can get a bit overzealous.”

Khoon gave the crane a respectful salute. “No apologies necessary. My man encouraged the escalation, it is I who should apologize. It would honor me if you and your niece would join us for dinner tonight on our boat.”

Both Leong and her uncle seemed surprised by Khoon’s invitation and then looked uncertain at Khoon and his men. Khoon supposed it was unsettling for two cranes to be invited over for dinner by a group of tiger clan. They might think they were meant to be the main course.

“My man, Han, who you have already met, makes an amazing tofu and sweet and sour stir fry,” Khoon assured them, “and I would love to see more of your Kung Fu. Your crane style is truly formidable.”

The cranes shared a look and then nodded.

***

When the cranes called to be let aboard, an excited shiver ran up Khoon’s spine making his fur stand on end for a moment. He was pleasantly surprised the pair had decided to come. The moment Khoon and his men had returned to the ship he had sent them to work cleaning. He had also told Han to hold nothing back in preparing the meal tonight; he wanted everything to be perfect. Khoon had even changed into his best tunic suit. Black silk top with turn-down collar, four pockets with flaps, and pants.

Khoon was surprised with his sudden desire to impress the cranes. Specifically the she-crane, who he had learned was named Leong. As the cranes walked up the gangplank and Khoon went to meet them he idly wondered if Leong was engaged or not, and if her uncle was the relative to speak to on such matters.

The cranes had changed into fancier silk attire as well. Leong wore a pink tunic with white flower patterns, her spindly legs were bare. Her uncle wore a long black gown and a blue waistcoat with red stitching. Khoon greeted them with a salute and bow.

“Welcome to our home,” Khoon said as he bowed.

The cranes returned the gesture. Then there was an awkward pause as crane eyes looked at cat eyes. Leong broke the silence, “You promised us food, Kitten. Where the hell is this great stir fry you’ve been babbling about?” Leong waltzed into the midst of the tiger clan monks and started making introductions as if she socialized with hunters all the time.

“Please forgive my niece, her manners are…” Leong’s uncle trailed off.

“Think nothing of it,” insisted Khoon. He was finding himself more drawn to Leong by the moment.

***

Within six months Khoon and Leong were set to be married. Leong’s uncle sat down with Khoon the night before his wedding day.

“What did you want to talk to me about, Uncle?” asked Khoon. Khoon swayed a little when he sat down on the stool, he had already started celebrating with his brothers.

Uncle Crane refilled Khoon’s cup with rice wine before filling his own glass. They sat in the common room below the decks of their ship. “To a happy marriage,” Uncle toasted before downing half the contents of his glass. Khoon followed suit.

Uncle refilled their glasses. “Are you sure the two of you want to go through with this?” he asked, then took another long gulp of wine. “The Manchu do not look kindly on cross breed relationships, let alone cross clan. The two of you will be outcasts no matter where you go.”

Khoon’s jovial expression fell. His tail swished back and forth in solemn contemplation. “Leong and I have discussed this in length. We both understand the consequences of our relationship.” Khoon let out a laugh. “It’s not like I’m in good standing with the government as it is. As for Leong…you should know Leong will always go her own way.”

Uncle rolled his black eyes and let out his own laugh. “That I know all too well. To a long and happy marriage.” Uncle raised his glass for another toast.

***

A year after Khoon and Leong were married, Khoon received a message from his master, Jee Sin. It said that everything at the newly established southern temple was going well. The message also said that Wu Wai Thien was being sent to join up with Khoon, and that he would be waiting with his new wife in Xi’an. The monks changed course and headed that way.

They were many weeks out from Xi’an. Khoon stood at the rudder, gently guiding the vessel through the currents. Leong stood in the center of the main deck in her Kung Fu crane stance. Several of Khoon’s brothers stood around Leong. They took turns trying to knock her off balance. Leong had been playing the game with the monks for months and they had yet to manage to knock her over. Khoon held the tiger style of Kung Fu above all others, but he was fascinated by the solidity of the crane style stance.

“Smoke,” cried Han. The snow leopard was taking his shift at lookout.

The monks stopped their game and looked in the direction Han pointed. Khoon held a paw up to shield his eyes from the sun. Off in the distance several tendrils of black smoke rose towards the sky. They rose from the small river town they had planned on docking at that night. Khoon’s face turned grim and his tail twitched. He did not have a good feeling about this.

***

The town was in complete ruin. Bamboo huts were burnt or burning to the ground; some looked to be simply trampled. The stench of death, smoke, and burnt flesh and feathers hung thick in the air. The only sign of life was a withered and bent otter clan crone who wandered through the ruins with eyes as dead as the corpses that littered the ground.

“What happened here?” growled Khoon. His claws strained as he stared up at the Manchu banner planted in the ground at the center of what used to be the town square.

“The governor wanted to take the baker’s daughter as a concubine,” coughed the old otter crone, who was being helped by Leong. “They weren’t even the same clan. She would have been nothing more than a whore to him. The baker refused and the town stood behind him. This is what you get for standing against the Manchu.” She laughed bitterly and kicked a charred piece of wood.

“Bastards! We’ll get your revenge, Auntie,” growled Han. The snow leopard clenched his paws so tight they shook.

Part of a house still standing collapsed off to Khoon’s right. The noise made everyone jump. “Spread out and look for survivors,” ordered Khoon. He wandered over to the house still partially standing.

The fallen wall revealed the corpse of a she-crane. Her lower half was crushed by debris. She cradled something in her wings close to her face. Khoon knelt for a closer look.

“Leong!” cried Khoon. He carefully picked up the brown and speckled egg.

“What is it?” She gasped when Khoon held up the egg. Leong cradled the egg in her wings and held it to her cheek.

“Is it…” Khoon couldn’t finish his sentence.

“There’s still life in it,” said Leong with a sigh of relief, “but it needs to be nested.”

“Take it back to the boat. We’ll keep searching for survivors and bury the dead.”

Leong nodded and hurried off to the boat. Khoon watched them for a moment with a flutter in his chest before turning and steeling himself for the sad work ahead.

***

Leong cooed her adopted son, Hoong Man Ting, to sleep, and then set him in his nest cradle. She wrapped a blanket woven of her own white feathers around the brown downy fluff that covered Ting’s body.

“He hatched a bit small, but he’s healthy and growing into a strong chick,” said Leong. She spoke in answer to Wu Wai Thien’s new wife Song’s question.

The Southern tigress lounged back in a padded wooden chair. She draped a protective paw over her protruding belly. They were expecting a cub within a moon’s turn. “It is gracious of you and Brother Khoon to take in the chick.”

“It only seemed natural. All his family was killed, and Khoon and I cannot have our own.” Leong looked longingly at Song’s belly.

Nesting Ting had kicked Leong’s maternal instincts into overdrive. Before Ting she had never pictured herself as a mother. She was feeling for the first time the true weight of the sacrifice she’d made to be with Khoon. At least it seemed Ting would fill some of the hole for both of them. Khoon was already acting the doting father to the young chick. Leong saw a new light in Khoon’s eyes when he held Ting in his arms.

Song gave Leong a Cheshire grin, showing off her sharp teeth. The sight of the fangs sent an instinctive shiver up Leong’s spine telling her to flee. She forced down the instinct that came naturally while around hunter clans.

“You know, Leong, I was very nervous about following Thien here,” confessed Song. “I didn’t know any details about any of you. I wasn’t sure how you would react to me being of Southern breed and him of Bengal breed. It was a relief to see that you and Brother Khoon are of an open mind. My own family disowned me when they learned of the marriage.” Song’s whiskers drooped slightly making her grin look sad.

Leong was shocked. Cross breed relationships weren’t common, but far more accepted than a match like Leong and Khoon. She draped a wing over Song’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “The Shaolin is your family now. We are sisters you and I.” Song’s whiskers lifted and her grin turned sincere. “I’m surprised of such a conservative response from Southern tigers. I had heard they are more resistant to the Manchu ways in the south.”

“My parents wouldn’t have cared, but they have both passed on. My elder brother works as a government official and upholds their ways for the sake of his job. Sadly the Manchu influence is spreading and getting stronger. Despite the best efforts of the Shaolin. Just look at what happened to the Southern Temple and Jee Sin.”

Leong looked at the door to the mess hall where Khoon, Thien, and the other brothers discussed the most recent turn of events. Her gut twisted with worry. When they had finally made it to Xi’an, Thien had awaited them with devastating news. The Shaolin Elder, Pak Mei, had defected to the Manchu and led an attack on the Southern Temple. Pak Mei, a white Bengal of the tiger clan, killed his fellow elder, Jee Sin, in a dual. Thien and Song barely made it out with their lives. Leong knew the men would take Pak Mei’s betrayal personally and demand vengeance. She worried where such a path would lead.

As if on cue the door to the mess hall opened and in walked Khoon and Thien.

“Don’t worry, Si Heng,” assured Khoon. “We will get vengeance for Sifu.”

“It will not be easy, Si Dai. Pak Mei’s Kung Fu is the most formidable I have ever seen. We will have to train like never before if we have hope of beating him. Nothing will come of us rushing into a fight,” said Thien. He came over and stood next to his wife.

Khoon nodded in agreement and some of the worry left Leong. Her husband had a wise elder brother. Something she was thankful for.

“So what now?” asked Leong.

The two Bengals shared a look and nodded. “We’re going to abandon the Red Boats and scatter,” said Khoon. “The Manchu have caught on to our guise. Thien knows someone that can get us papers. We will settle and lay low for a while in Qing Hai so we can re-group and increase our numbers.”

***

“How did you and Thien meet?” asked Leong.

She leaned against the bamboo playpen and dangled her wing feathers above Song’s son, Wu Ah Phiew. The orange and black striped tiger cub batted at his Auntie’s wing with tiny paws. His sharp little claws just grazed the tips of her feathers. Little Ting stumbled over to investigate the game and pecked on Phiew’s head when he wouldn’t share. Phiew retracted his claws and batted his pen-mate back; Ting fell over harmlessly.

Leong smiled down at the children. It surprised her how gentle Phiew was with Ting. Despite being younger than Ting, Phiew was already larger and stronger. At first the mothers had meant to keep them apart when unsupervised, but soon Ting and Phiew would cry if separated for too long, and Phiew seemed to understand that he had to be careful with Ting.

“I lived in the village near the Southern Temple,” said Song. She stood over the cooking stove preparing dinner. “I was drinking at the inn and Thien and a few of his brothers were there doing the same. My brother did not approve of me out drinking and sent one of his men to collect me. When I refused to leave he tried to force me. Thien came to my aid and beat down my brother’s man. In return I struck him in the face and said I could fight my own battles.” Song smiled at the memory. “Anyway, it was true love from then on.”

Leong giggled at the story. Since they had settled on the small farm in southern Qing Hai she had come to enjoy her sister-in-law’s company more and more. Leong liked her personality and respected her skills at Kung Fu. When their husbands worked in the fields, or were honing their skills for vengeance, the two females would often spar in between their day to day chores.

There was the sound of footsteps on the front porch and the front door opening. “The men are home early,” noted Song. She wiped her paws on her apron and walked through the doorway towards the front of the house to greet her husband.

Leong was startled when Song’s body was flung back through the doorway. The tigress hit the opposite wall and crumpled to the ground. Leong was at her sister-in-law’s side immediately. Song was dazed, but unharmed. Leong helped her up.

Through the doorway walked four imperial officers of the tiger clan. A snow leopard, who was the leader judging by his head covering, backed by three Bengal tigers. The snow leopard gave the room an appraising look.

“Where are the criminals Hoong Hei Khoon and Wu Wai Thien? They are under arrest for conspiracy to incite rebellion against the empire. Give them up now and you and the little ones will be spared,” growled the snow leopard.

“Get the children out of here. I’ll hold them off until the men get here,” whispered Song through clenched fangs.

“I’m not leaving you alone against them!” hissed Leong.

“Get Ting and Phiew safe. Promise me, no matter what, you’ll look after Phiew!”

“Stop your whispering!” growled the snow leopard.

Orange tigress eyes held black crane eye for a moment that stretched an eternity. Many promises and goodbyes were made in a single second, and Leong bobbed her head slightly. That was all Song needed; her claws extended.

“Go!” Song snarled. She went down on all four paws for two paces and then lunged. The tigress tackled the snow leopard into the Bengals behind him. Two of them went down with the tackle along with the snow leopard in a snarling confusion of fur, claws, fangs, and blood. One Bengal managed to dodge Song’s tackle.

As Song went after the soldiers Leong went straight for the crib, scooping up the double baby sling in the process and draping it over her neck. The Bengal that had managed to avoid the tackle jumped into her path.

“I don’t think so, Birdie.” He laughed when Leong took her fighting stance. He obviously didn’t take the crane seriously.

The babies began to cry; Leong saw red. With a flap of her wings Leong lunged at the tiger that was twice her height and many more times her weight. She wasn’t afraid, all that mattered was getting to the babies. The Bengal froze in surprise for a moment, but managed to get his paws up to defend just in time. Leong snaked her wings in-between the raised paws and batted them outwards. Then she struck with her beak several times, aiming for the eyes.

With a cry of pain the tiger sprawled backwards, nearly hitting the crib. Leong wasted no time in scooping up the children and nestling them in their double sling carrier. Ting was slung over her back in a feathery cocoon and Phiew over her front since he was so much heavier. She turned towards the back door, but it was blocked by her nemesis. The Bengal had deep cuts around his eyes, but he could still see.

The tiger took a swipe at Leong with his right paw. Leong blocked with her left wing, she gently brushed the tiger’s paw aside at just the right angle that it missed her throat by inches. Then she rolled her wing over the tiger’s forearm and gave him a whipping blow right to his snout. The tiger hissed and stumbled back. Leong was out the backdoor before he could recover.

Leong paused just outside and looked back at her sister-in-law. Song was squared off against the snow leopard backed by one of the Bengals. The other Bengal was motionless on the ground, a pool of red blood spreading out from under him. Song’s mouth and paws were stained red and her right arm sagged.

“Go get reinforcements!” yelled the snow leopard. The Bengal ran for the front door.

Leong hated to leave Song behind, but she had to get help. Wishing her friend luck she turned and ran.

***

Khoon and Thien were too late. They entered through the back door and found Song on the ground in the middle of the room near the Bengal she had killed. The two Shaolin Bengals recognized the snow leopard that stood over her as Ko Chon Choong, Pak Mei’s disciple.

“Noooo!” Thien let out a cry of anguish and fell to his wife’s side.

“Choong, you bastard!” snarled Khoon. He went after the snow leopard.

As Khoon and Choong traded blows, none of them hitting their mark, Thien cradled Song’s lifeless body in his arms. It took everything he had to not to fall to pieces. He longed to follow her to the afterlife. The thought of Phiew and vengeance were the only things that kept him together. At least Phiew was safe, hidden away with Leong in the fields.

Thien allowed himself one hacking sob and then laid Song on the ground gently. He put all his fury into his roar as he lunged into the fray between Khoon and Choong. Thien got three blows in at Choong’s body, making the snow leopard wince. Choong blocked Thien’s next attack and retaliated with a swing with his right paw followed by a spinning back kick; Thien was hard pressed to avoid both.

Khoon backed up Thien and attacked when there was an opening. Soon their attacks and defense fell into perfect harmony and they rained down blows onto Choong. Despite this, Choong was holding his own. He managed to block two out of three of the blows and landed at least one blow on the Bengals for every two he received. Khoon and Thein were relentless, however, and Choong began to tire.

Just when it seemed Choong was finished, a piercing whistle filled the air making Khoon and Thien fold back their ears. The sound of heavy footsteps came from the front of the house. Soldiers, all various breeds of the tiger clan wearing blue and red uniforms, flooded into the room. Khoon and Thien went on defense back to back as they were surrounded. They took down the first few that tried to close in on them, but they both knew it was only a matter of time before they were overwhelmed.

Thien looked down at the body of his wife. Then he glanced behind him at Khoon. He took in the soldiers and the window to his right that was the only unblocked escape.

“Si Dai, tell Phiew that his parents loved him. Raise him right, teach him the tiger style as we were taught,” said Thien.

Before Khoon could respond Thien grabbed the back of Khoon’s shirt, digging his claws into his pelt. Thien scooped Khoon up, spun him around for momentum, and then flung him through the window. Khoon was so caught off guard he only managed to let out a surprised cry of pain before he was flying through the air and then tumbling onto the ground outside.

Khoon tucked and rolled back up onto his hind paws. He spun around and looked through the broken window. The crowd of soldiers were closing in. Thien fought with the ferocity of the dying, but he was becoming overwhelmed. One soldier that carried a spear managed to stick Thien in the shoulder from behind. Thien let out a cry of pain and then disappeared from sight under a sea of blue and red uniforms.

Khoon wanted to run back into the house to aid his elder brother, but he would not belittle Thien’s sacrifice. Feeling like his heart was being ripped from his chest, Khoon turned and ran before the soldiers could catch him.

***

A young Phiew laid on his belly and batted his new red ball back and forth between his paws. It was the day after his fifth birthday and the ball was his favorite present. The rhythmic motion of the ball along with the bright sun warming his back made him feel drowsy; he began to purr softly.

There was a flutter of wings, a shadow passed over him, and suddenly his ball was gone. “Hey!” cried Phiew. He jumped to his feet and looked to the sky.

“Ha, ha, can’t get me,” teased his elder brother, Ting. The young crane sat on top of the wall that encircled their house and yard. He held Phiew’s ball between his webbed feet and dangled it just out of reach teasingly.

“Give it back,” whined Phiew.

He jumped for the ball, but Ting pulled it out of reach. Phiew growled and clenched his paws. He thought it was so unfair that Ting could fly. Phiew was way bigger and stronger than his older brother, but that wasn’t of much help if he couldn’t reach him.

“It’s mine now, Kitten.” Ting laughed at the face Phiew made; he hated that nick name.

Phiew shook with anger and tried to climb up the stone wall, but he couldn’t get a good hold. Ting laughed as he watched his younger brother struggle. He stopped laughing when a wet balled up shirt hit him directly in the face. There was a wet smack and Ting dropped the ball.

“Stop teasing your brother!” yelled Leong, who sat by the well doing laundry. “And bring me back that shirt.”

“Thanks, Mother,” giggled Phiew as he chased after his ball. Ting dropped to the ground and brought his mother back the shirt with his black feathered head hanging low.

“I was just playing,” pouted Ting.

“Play nice,” said Leong. She took back the shirt and gave him an affectionate pat on the head. “It is a Si Heng’s duty to look after his Si Dai.”

“Yes, Mother,” said Ting as he ran off after Phiew to play some more.

Phiew and Ting were in the middle of a game of catch when their father came out of the house. “Phiew, come. It’s time for your training,” said Khoon.

“Ha, ha, mine now,” said Ting snatching the ball out of Phiew’s paws.

“It’s time for your training as well, Ting,” said Leong, whisking the ball away from Ting. “Go stand!”

“Ohhh, but Mother…”

“I said stand!” yelled Leong in her no nonsense tone. She pointed with her wing.

Ting hung his head low and moped over to where Leong pointed. Then he took on the crane style fighting stance. Leong rolled her eyes and walked over to her son. She kicked Ting’s skinny legs out from under him.

“Stand right!” she demanded. Ting picked himself off the ground and took the stance again, focusing on his form this time. Leong bobbed her head. “Better, stay like that until I am done with laundry.”

Phiew snickered at his brother under his breath as he followed their father out the gate. Khoon and Phiew usually trained in the bamboo grove behind their house. “Father, why does Ting learn Kung Fu from mother and I learn it from you?” asked Phiew as they walked.

“Because Ting is born of the crane clan so your mother teaches him the crane style. You are born of the tiger clan so you learn the tiger style,” explained Khoon.

“But why can’t we learn both?” Phiew had always been curious about the style his brother got to learn. “Couldn’t we combine them?”

“No!” said Khoon, harsher than he meant. Khoon was very much a purist when it came to his Kung Fu, if not in the rest of the aspects of his life. He continued in a softer tone. “The styles have been developed over hundreds of years to maximize the effectiveness of the body forms of the different clans. A crane couldn’t use tiger style because they lack paws with strong digits and claws; conversely a tiger cannot use crane style because he lacks a beak and the stance would be completely unnatural.”

His father sounded like he knew what he was talking about, but Phiew wasn’t so sure. He had watched his brother practice before and thought that he could replicate some of the moves. When the pair of tigers came to their usual training area, Phiew pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind. He had to put all his focus in the lesson at hand if he didn’t want to end up with too many bumps and bruises.

***

“Tiger style!” snarled a twelve year old Phiew. The orange and black striped Southern-Bengal mix lashed out at his crane clan brother. In his heated frenzy he didn’t even remember to retract his claws.

Ting dodged, took to the air and landed behind Phiew. Ting gave his younger brother a rough shove in the back. “You’ll never beat my crane style, loser,” laughed Ting.

When Phiew got his balance he lashed out blindly behind him. Ting dodged, batted Phiew’s paw down, and pecked him hard right between his eyes. Phiew stumbled back dazed; Ting hadn’t held much back.

The fight had started over something foolish, but had quickly descended into the old argument of which style was better. Like many brothers Phiew and Ting were both best friends and rivals in most things. The fight continued on and became more out of control.

Phiew managed to get behind Ting and was going to take a swing at him, but his paw was caught by the much larger paw of their father. One look at their father’s disapproving glare made them both brace themselves. In seconds they were both on their backsides in the dust with a few more lumps added to their heads.

“What in the name of Buddha are the two of you doing? You could have broken your brother’s spine with that blow, Phiew!” growled Khoon.

“He said the tiger style was for losers,” accused Phiew. He rubbed his head and glared at his brother.

“I called you a loser,” corrected Ting, not wanting to upset his father more. “Not the tiger style.”

Phiew opened his mouth, but Khoon spoke first. “Enough of this nonsense from the both of you.” Khoon was well aware of the sometimes bitter rivalry between the two boys. He couldn’t help but feel responsible for driving a wedge between the brothers by insisting on separate training. Khoon took a long breath to gather his patience. He sat down on the ground next to the boys and smiled to show he wasn’t too angry.

“Phiew, when your father and I were your age we started training at the Shaolin temple.” Phiew’s ears perked up at mention of his birth father. He sat cross legged on the ground attentive to the coming story. Ting got comfortable next to him. “Though we learned the tiger style from your Si Gung, Jee Sin, we trained alongside brother Shaolin born of all the clans of the zodiac. At times we would test our skills against one another, but more often we would train to combine our skills into the ultimate attack and defense. Thien and I would often train with our brother, Feng, who was born of the snake clan. Where our style was weak his was strong, where his was lacking we were masters. We were unbeatable together.”

“Where is Feng now?” asked Ting.

Khoon’s voice caught in his thought for a moment. “He was killed along with Jee Sin when Pak Mei destroyed the Southern Temple.” Khoon stared off in the distance for a moment and clenched his paws. Then he shook his head and smiled down at the boys. “Remember, boys, it is not the style that makes a fighter superior, it is the wielder of that style. Neither of you could ever hope to defeat me, or your mother for that matter. The only hope you have is to learn to fight in unison.” With that Khoon left the boys to contemplate his words.

***

A seventeen year old Ting hid himself in the shadows on the rooftop of their family home. He wore a conical bamboo hat and a white and blue tunic. Phiew concealed himself just inside the shed wearing a red and black tunic and pants. He crouched low, his muscles were tense and ready to spring. They were in position and ready to attack.

Within minutes their father wandered outside. When he was halfway across the courtyard the boys attacked in unison, Ting from above and Phiew from the ground. Khoon was ready and met them head on. Even fighting in unison within five moves Ting was flung into the air and got tangled up in the laundry lines, and Phiew was sent sprawling into a rack of practice weapons.

Khoon barely broke stride and continued his casual stroll across the courtyard and out the front gate. “The two of you are improving,” was all he said as he passed his downed sons.

Ting and Phiew picked themselves up and brushed themselves off. They heard their mother’s harsh voice from inside the house inquiring on the commotion. The teenagers looked around at the mess of wooden weapons and laundry scattered across the courtyard.

“Walk to town?” asked Ting.

“More like run,” said Phiew. The brothers ran out the front gate already feeling the switch their mother would have prepared for them later.

The brothers raced for a long time, neither willing to slow their pace or give up first. When they finally stopped they were tired and panting heavily.

“I almost landed a strike,” said Phiew.

“You wish, Si Dai.” Ting lightly stepped on his brother’s tail. “Remember, most of the time we shouldn’t attack at the same time. I attack while you defend and vice-versa. We need to get our timing better.”

Phiew rolled his eyes and swished his tail out of Ting’s reach.

“Please! No!” shouted a panicked feminine voice from up the road.

Ting and Phiew rushed towards the voice. They rounded a bend in the road and came upon a mixed group of two rhinos, two Gibbon monkeys, and three raccoon dogs; all males. The group, with knives and cudgels, surrounded a lone clouded leopardess. A still form laid motionless at the she-leopard’s feet. The young leopardess was trying to hold her attackers at bay with a walking staff.

No words were needed, the brothers went into action immediately. They instinctively went for the rhinos first. With a flap of his wings Ting took to the air and went for one rhino’s eyes, being sure to avoid his sharp horn. Phiew went for the other rhino’s legs. He used the strong straight swipes of the tiger style. Extending his claws he aimed for the weak points at the joints. Within moments the rhinos were on the run, abandoning their comrades.

The Gibbons recovered from their initial surprise and attacked the unwelcome newcomers. Phiew and Ting dodged the initial attack of wildly swung knives. Then the monkeys took to the trees. Ting flew after them and Phiew leapt into the branches to follow. The crane faced off against one of the monkeys on a thick branch. Ting immediately attacked, but the monkey swung around the branch, holding on by his tail, and came back up behind Ting. The brown furred and black faced monkey raised his knife to stab Ting in the back.

Phiew pounced on the monkey with a feral growl. The two fell to the ground and when Phiew stood, the monkey’s body was crumbled and lifeless. “No one hurts my Si Heng,” Phiew hissed, shaking with adrenaline. He felt sick to his stomach when he stared down at the Gibbon’s corpse.

Phiew took a deep breath and turned to the remaining raccoon dogs. Ting came up behind to back him up.

“Thanks for the save, Si Dai,” said Ting.

“Anytime, Si Heng.” Phiew’s whiskers and tail twitched with pride.

The brothers readied themselves to take on the brown and grey striped raccoon dogs. Before they could attack, the leopardess came up from behind the raccoon dogs and struck with her staff. They were sent running with bruised and bleeding skulls.

Once her attackers had fled the leopardess fell to the side of what looked like an elderly clouded leopardess. She broke into hopeless tears and hugged the body close. Phiew and Ting rushed to the girl’s side to comfort her.

***

Khoon stood just inside the doorway of their small home. His sons didn’t know he watched them play in the courtyard. What had been an errand to fetch water for the baths had turned into a water fight at the well; that had somehow turned into a balancing act on top of a spear lain across the dowel that drew up the bucket. Ting was nineteen years in a moon’s turn; Khoon wondered if his sons were ever going to grow up.

The balance the boys displayed was impressive. Phiew had it a bit harder of the two boys being heavier, but the tiger was holding his own. That is until Mingmei, the clouded leopardess they had taken in a few years back, walked by and giggled. Phiew became completely distracted by Mingmei and wobbled off balance.

He fell into the well and Ting had to flap his wings to keep from doing the same. Ting laughed and Mingmei rushed over to help Phiew. The tiger’s ears were bent back with hurt pride and he refused the paw Mingmei offered. It had not escaped Khoon’s notice that Phiew and Mingmei had been sneaking off together quite frequently.

Khoon shook his head. I hope I did right by you, Thien. Khoon thought of his old friend often. Though they had not shared a drop of blood, Thien and Khoon had been the dearest of brothers. Khoon had found a safe place and had raised the boys in peaceful seclusion. They were grown now, though, and he had spent years honing his Kung Fu; it was time to keep the promise they had made so many years ago. Their Si Fu, Jee Sin, had to be avenged. Phiew’s parents had to be avenged.

With a twitch of his whiskers Khoon came to a final decision. He would spend one last day with his family. Tonight he would have a final bout with the boys. He would even let them each land a blow. Then he would set out before the sunrise. If the fates were kind he would be back with his family in time to celebrate Ting’s birthday.

“Not yet,” came Leong’s musical voice from behind Khoon. He turned to face his wife; she always seemed to know what he was thinking. “You’re not ready yet. I saw what Pak Mei’s disciple, Choong, was able to do; your tiger style wouldn’t be a match against his master.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Wife,” Khoon said with mix of bitterness and sarcasm in his tone. This was an old argument.

“Let me teach you some of my crane style. Even mastering some of it would give you the edge you need to defeat Pak Mei. I’m sure of it.”

“No!” snapped Khoon.

Leong’s black eyes were watery. Khoon breathed out his frustrations and walked over to his wife. He wrapped his arms around her delicate body and held her close, stroking her soft feathers. How could he blame her for being scared? She was only trying to help, but she knew his reasons.

Jee Sin had taught him pure tiger style. Khoon would avenge his Sifu using that style. He would leave it to the younger generations to evolve the styles. Khoon glanced out the doorway at the young ones. All three of them were laughing at some joke.

“What should I tell the boys?” asked Leong, her voice muffled by Khoon’s shirt.

Khoon squeezed Leong a little tighter. Such a strong creature in such a fragile body, he thought. “Tell them I went on Shaolin business to meet Han. By the time they figure out differently, it will be too late for them to stop me.”

Leong let out one sniffle, but refused to shed a tear. “They’ll never forgive you if you don’t come back,” she warned.

Khoon laughed and released Leong from his embrace. “Come, Wife, let us enjoy the day.”

***

Within a week Ting and Phiew had figured out where their father had really gone. They were furious that their father had left them without saying goodbye, but they were wise enough not to take it out on their mother. Leong was over the edge with worry and was barely keeping it together. She never let the boys see, but she cried every night and prayed that her husband would return to her.

When Ting’s birthday came and went and there was still no sign of Khoon everyone began to fear the worst, but no one gave voice to their worry. Phiew was home alone practicing his tiger style when a lone figure came into view walking up the road. The traveler was clearly tiger clan. Hope bubbled in his chest and Phiew ran out to meet the traveler.

The hope sunk like a stone when Phiew recognized the traveler; his pace slowed to a walk. “Uncle Han,” said Phiew when he came close. The middle aged snow leopard limped along with a staff and his right arm was in a sling.

Han stopped in front of Phiew. The snow leopard shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry, Phiew, I helped him fight his way into the temple, but he had to go up against Pak Mei’s top students before he could face the master. He was already worn out and injured by the time he faced Pak Mei.”

Phiew couldn’t grasp what Han was saying. A ringing started in his ears that blocked out Han’s voice and his face felt hot. Dead? Hoong Hei Khoon couldn’t be dead? His father was the strongest tiger he had ever known. Someone, somewhere, had to have made a horrible mistake.

The ringing subsided and Phiew was able to hear Han’s voice. Han was shaking Phiew gently and asking if he was all right.

“I’m fine,” said Phiew, perfectly calm.

He turned and strode into the house. He knew exactly what he had to do. It didn’t take long to gather all he needed. Han was still limping towards the house when Phiew emerged with a sack slung over his shoulder.

“Where are you going?” asked Han. “Your father wouldn’t want this.”

“My father is dead!” yelled Phiew. He continued just above a whisper. “Both of them are dead.” He was silent for a moment in order to keep from crying. “Tell them where I’ve gone. Give them my love.”

Phiew headed off down the road at a fast run. He couldn’t risk Ting or Mingmei catching up to him and trying to stop him. If he gave it all he had, he would beat Ting to Pak Mei’s temple even if Ting flew to catch him. He would get vengeance once and for all, for his birth parents, his Sifu, and his Si Gung.

***

Ting and Mingmei were surprised to find the injured snow leopard on their front porch when they arrived home from town. Ting knew the meaning of seeing Uncle Han without his father.

“Where’s Phiew?” was the first thing out of his beak.

Han shook his head. “I couldn’t stop him. He’s heading for Pak Mei’s temple.”

Ting’s head drooped. His Si Dai was so reckless sometimes. This time it might get him killed. Mingmei let out a dread filled gasp and her paw instinctively went to her belly. The movement did not escape Ting’s notice. Mingmei gave him a pleading look.

“Does Phiew know?” asked Ting.

Mingmei shook her head. “I wasn’t sure until recently. He was so worried about your father I didn’t want to burden him more over what could be nothing. I can’t lose him, Ting.”

Ting put a comforting wing on Mingmei’s shoulder and placed the other across the paw over her belly. He had already come to think of Mingmei as his little sister. Now she would truly be his sister-in-law and he would soon be an uncle. He had to stop Phiew. His Si Dai didn’t stand a chance against Pak Mei. His child would not be raised never knowing their true father like they had.

“I’ll fly as fast as I can for the temple. I may beat him if the weather is favorable.” Ting went in the house and retrieved a sack of food and his conical bamboo hat.

“The rains are coming,” said Han, struggling to stand. “They’ll slow you more than they will Phiew. I’ll sail down the river, I may beat you there if the weather is extreme.”

“I’m going with you, Han,” said Mingmei.

By the look on her face he knew better than to argue. “We need to leave before Leong gets back. She would lock us all down and go after Phiew herself. Leave her a note before you leave.” Mingmei nodded and Ting took to the air.

***

Phiew ran on all four paws night and day towards his destination. He stopped only to eat, drink, and catch a few hours of sleep when he was absolutely exhausted. Ting flew just as hard to catch his brother. Flying was faster, but it wore Ting out and he had to stop and rest more often than Phiew. When the rain Han had predicted hit, Ting was hard pressed to keep flying, but he pushed through the foul weather.

Phiew made it to the temple first. He rested for a few hours in the woods and then sprinted up the steep stone steps leading to the front gates without much of a plan. The young tiger was scared if he stopped to think about what he was doing for too long he might back down from fear.

The temple’s defenses were weakened from the recent attack from his father. Phiew met little resistance and easily fought his way into the inner sanctum of the temple. For the first time Phiew laid eyes on the white Bengal tiger known as Pak Mei. The legendary Shaolin Elder turned traitor sat in a decorative chair atop a dais on the opposite side of the room. He wore white and blue robes and a long chain of prayer beads around his neck.

Phiew’s face felt hot and the ringing started in his ears again. His claws extended and he pointed his paw at Pak Mei. “You!” he growled.

Pak Mei shook his head and his blue eyes looked sad. Dozens of Pak Mei’s disciples flooded the room between Phiew and his father’s killer. Phiew crouched to spring at the closest obstacle; he would tear apart anything in his path.

“Hold!” cried Pak Mei, holding up his paw. His disciples relaxed and backed down. “I will face him.”

A snow leopard standing to the right of Pak Mei’s chair bristled. “He is not worthy of your efforts, Sifu. Let me handle this. I will make short work of the intruder.”

Pak Mei shook his head. “I said I will handle this, Choong. There has been too much death of late. I would have this finished quickly.” The white tiger stood and walked off the dais. His students parted to form a path for them both to meet in the center of the room.

As Phiew walked to meet Pak Mei he gave the snow leopard who had spoken a careful look. He knew his parents had been killed by a disciple of Pak Mei’s, he thought his name was Choong. Once he was done with the master he would take care of the student.

Phiew refocused on Pak Mei. They squared off five feet apart in the center of the room. Phiew’s muscles tensed and without a word he struck out. Using strong straight swipes he precisely aimed each clawed digit at Pak Mei’s weak points. Phiew’s strikes were on target, but never hit home. Pak Mei moved faster than Phiew had ever imagined possible. With each strike Pak Mei would move just centimeters out of reach.

The white Bengal’s strikes were just as fast as his defense. When Pak Mei decided to attack he moved in and landed three strikes to Phiew’s body before he could even blink. Pak Mei withdrew and Phiew fell to one knee, clenching his fangs against the pain.

“This is your one and only chance, boy.” Pak Mei looked down at Phiew. “You have no chance against me. Leave now and I’ll spare your life.”

Phiew saw red and lunged at Pak Mei with a feral growl. In his fury Phiew abandoned his disciplined style and took powerful but telegraphed side swipes at Pak Mei. The white Bengal slapped aside one of Phiew’s strikes; this left Phiew’s side open to attack. Pak Mei delivered a series of blows to the young tiger’s side, aiming for his vitals. Phiew cried out, doubled over, and coughed up blood.

Realization of his situation finally dawned on Phiew and he felt like a complete idiot. How did he ever believe he would succeed where his father had failed? There was no way he could beat Pak Mei. Phiew felt desperate and cornered.

Phiew thought of Mingmei and how she always said that there was no shame in running from a fight you couldn’t win. Picturing Mingmei, Phiew gathered his strength and jumped to his feet. Instead of attacking Pak Mei he turned and ran for the exit. He leapt over a row of Pak Mei’s armed disciples and made it outside.

At the top of the stone steps that led down through the gates, Phiew stumbled. Phiew’s injuries were greater than he imagined and he could not keep himself from falling down the steps. Each strike of flesh against stone a reminder of his failures and inadequacies.

Pak Mei calmly strode out of his temple and watched the tiger’s body roll down the last few steps. There was an icy stab to his heart as he wondered how he had wronged the boy; he probably belonged to Hoong Hei Khoon somehow. Fate had forced the old tiger to make impossible decisions. He struggled with the results of those decisions every day.

He knew he should kill the boy. Leaving him alive would only be sparing a future threat. Yet he hesitated. There had been so much death lately. That had never been what he had wanted.

Choong approached his master and put a gentle paw on his shoulder. “We must end this.”

The Manchu still held several members of Pak Mei’s original temple captive, along with their families, to insure his allegiance. He was charged with the eradication of any and all potential threats to the Manchu reign. This boy had great potential to become a Kung Fu master one day, and his pure hatred for Pak Mei was evident.

“Finish him,” ordered Pak Mei with a heavy heart. What wasted talent, he thought.

Pak Mei’s white fur bristled and he let out a roar of frustration. For a more physical outlet he kicked over a large iron sconce sitting at the top of the steps. Burning coals went everywhere and the sconce made loud gong sounds as it rolled down the steps after Phiew.

Phiew lay dazed at the base of the steps and was unable to move out of the way of the red hot iron sconce. It rolled over his right front and hind paws. Phiew heard the crunch of bone and smelled the stench of burning fur. He let out a cry of agony. Through blurry tears Phiew could see Pak Mei’s disciples closing in on him. He wondered if he would meet his birth parents in the afterlife.

A familiar shadow crossed over Phiew’s vision. A white feathery blur fell into the midst of Pak Mei’s disciples. Phiew blinked his eyes to clear his vision and recognized his Si Heng’s hat. In a flurry of feathers Ting used forward wiping motions with his wings to deflect the blows of his nearest opponents, and then used the same motion to eye gouge one opponent and throat jab the other.

Ting bobbed his long slender neck out of the path of a spear one disciple wielded. The crane blocked another thrust of the spear upwards with his forewings crossed in front of him. He kept contact with the shaft of the spear and followed the shaft forward towards its wielder. Ting struck out with his beak and gouged at the clouded leopard’s eyes. The leopard dropped the spear and covered his eyes with his paws, letting out a cry of pain.

“What are you doing here?” cried Phiew. His pain fogged mind was still trying to process the situation.

“Saving your ass,” grunted Ting as he bobbed out of the way of a Bengal’s large fist. “It’s a Si Heng’s duty to protect his Si Dai after all. Now get the hell out of here. I’ll hold them.”

“I’m not leaving you,” growled Phiew. Not that he would be of any help. He couldn’t even stand.

After downing another clouded leopard, Ting gave Phiew a frustrated look. Then he smiled at something behind Phiew. “Get him out of here!” yelled Ting.

Furry paws gently grabbed Phiew and dragged him away from the fight. In a panic Phiew began to fight, but he relaxed when he recognized Mingmei and Han. “I won’t leave him!”

“Sorry about this, kid.” Han hit Phiew over the head with his walking staff. Phiew’s body went limp and the leopards dragged the tiger to a horse waiting with his cart. Mingmei loaded Phiew into the cart and Han slipped a bag of silver in the horse’s saddle bag. The horse broke into a trot with a satisfied whinny.

Phiew began to regain conciseness as they rode out of sight. His blurred vision cleared in time for him to see a large white tiger holding a limp crane form high above his head before bringing the crane down hard across his knee. Phiew slipped back into unconsciousness.

***

Phiew was shocked out of his drunken stupor by a stream of icy water poured over his face. He clumsily scrambled to his feet, extended his claws, and looked around for the threat. What he found was his mother standing in the doorway of the shed holding a bucket between her wings and death in her eyes.

“Wake up, you useless drunk,” Leong practically growled like a tigress.

Phiew rolled his eyes and sank to the floor. The shed smelled of wine and vomit. He wondered how he had ended up in the tool shed; last night was mostly a blur. The tiger cradled his mangled right forepaw in his lap and picked up an abandoned wine jar that sat forgotten amongst rusting farm tools. Phiew gave the jar a hopeful shake and was disappointed to find it empty. He brightened, however, when he noticed his opium pipe on the ground at his side that still had a few drags left in it.

Leong kicked the pipe away with her webbed foot before Phiew could grab it. Phiew let out a long sigh. “Just leave me alone, Mother, please.”

Leong shook her head and wondered if both her sons were truly dead. With a sniff of disgust she stalked out of the shed. “Maybe you can talk some sense into him,” she said to Mingmei, who stood just outside.

Mingmei rubbed her swollen belly with her paws. It wouldn’t be long before the baby was here. She needed to find a way to snap Phiew out of this depression. He blamed himself for Ting’s death and destroyed himself for his failure to defeat Pak Mei. Mingmei took a deep fortifying breath before entering the shed.

She looked down at her broken love wallowing on the ground. “Why don’t you come outside, my love? Train some of your Kung Fu today. Your paws are healed now…”

“My paws will never be healed!” snapped Phiew. Though they no longer pained him greatly his paws were permanently mangled and lacked any real strength. He limped when he walked and could barely hold chopsticks. “My tiger style is a joke with these. They are as weak as…as…”

“As wings!” snapped Mingmei, getting angry now. “Seems to me you’re making up excuses. Your brother handled Pak Mei and his men with his spindly little wings far better than you did with your oh so powerful paws. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Phiew, and start acting like the tiger I fell in love with.” Mingmei ran out of the shed before Phiew could see her crying.

Phiew was shocked silent, not so much by Mingmei’s rebuke, but by her comparison of his damaged paws with wings. Something dawned in his mind. He sat on the ground of the shed for a long time mulling over the long conversations he had once had with Ting comparing their styles of Kung Fu. He envisioned the exercises Ting and their mother had done out in the courtyard all his life. Though he had never tried them, he knew the basic crane forms nearly as well as his tiger forms.

When Leong and Mingmei left to go buy food in town, Phiew finally emerged from the shed. He was shamed by his state and limped over to the well. Splashing his face with cold water, he washed the smell of wine and sick out of his fur. He then stood in the center of the courtyard and tried to mimic Ting’s fighting stance.

In tiger style you stayed on your toes, ready to spring at any moment. Ting had told him that with crane style you stayed flat footed and pivoted on your heels. Though it felt unnatural at first, Phiew found the movement more accommodating to his weak paw. Phiew struck out his left paw with a tiger style swipe and then did a forward wiping motion with his right paw, pads down, imagining his mangled fingers jabbing into an opponent’s eyes.

Ting’s voice whispered in the back of Phiew’s mind, Crane style is all about staying relaxed and loose. If you’re tense, your opponent can control your energy. If you stay relaxed you can feel where their energy is and deflect it or loop right around it. The tiger envisioned the loose whip-like blows Ting would deliver in quick succession when they had sparred. If Phiew used his energy correctly he could generate a great deal of power with the motion, even with his mangled paw.

Phiew was beginning to incorporate crane style defensive movements in unison with tiger style attacks when he heard his mother’s voice from behind him. “Your stance is all wrong. Roll your hips under to straighten your spine. Have your weight on the inside of your feet.” Phiew made the adjustments and looked over his shoulder at his mother standing just inside the gate.

Leong bobbed her head. “Better.”

“Teach me crane style?” asked Phiew simply.

Leong considered her son for a long minute. “Only if you promise not to face Pak Mei again until I say you are ready.”

Phiew hesitated wondering if this was some ploy of his mother’s to keep him forever out of harm’s way. He recognized the look in her eyes, however. She wanted vengeance as much as him.

“Very well,” agreed Phiew.

Leong bobbed her head again and passed her packages off to Mingmei who stood beside her. “Let’s get started.” Mingmei went into the house to prepare dinner while Leong drilled the basics of crane style into her tiger clan son.

***

With his forearms Phiew batted the two wooden rods that stuck out from the post behind the leather dummy that swung to and fro. He then palmed the chest of the dummy in quick succession. The tiger paused at the end of the sequence to check his form. His whiskers twitched with satisfaction; he was right on target.

Hissssss. Phiew smiled at the sound. Pride bubbled in his chest as the sand poured through the tear in the back of the dummy and his leather foe deflated.

“Yay! You did it, Daddy,” cried a small tigress.

The mixed breed tigress, with a unique striped and blotched fur pattern, pounced on the shell of the dummy and ripped the remains to shreds with her sharp claws. Ng Mui practically purred as she tried to mimic her father’s fighting style.

Phiew smiled down at his daughter and was filled with fatherly pride. Her technique wasn’t half bad considering he had yet to give her any formal lessons. Perhaps she was getting old enough to begin her training.

After shredding the dummy, Mui’s little ears perked up and she scanned the yard. “That’s the last one, Daddy.”

Phiew’s ears perked up as well. He turned and scanned his large practice yard. Forty nine other posts stood bare save a few shreds of rope that once held leather dummies.

“So it is,” he said, hiding the satisfaction he felt. “Why don’t you go tell Grandma.”

Mui turned and scampered into the house. “Grandma! Grandma! Daddy finally did it. Grandma!”

Mui soon returned with Leong and Mingmei close behind. Leong crossed her wings in front of her and studied Phiew’s handy work. She finally bobbed her head, giving it her stamp of approval.

“Honestly, you did it faster than I expected,” she said. “I thought wearing out fifty dummies without using your claws would take you at least another year, but you have been dedicated, my son.”

“Four years was enough for me.” Phiew cringed at the memory of the grueling hours he had spent training over the years. He knew he was ready. The only question was, did his mother think the same?

Phiew looked to Leong for confirmation. Orange tiger eyes held black crane eyes for a moment that stretched an eternity. Leong saw Phiew’s birthmother in those eyes. Her heart broke all over again for all the loved ones she had lost. She prayed to Buddha and all the ancestors that Phiew would not join those she mourned.

“You are ready, my son. There is nothing more for me to teach you. I will send word to the others. They will help you in what is to come.”

Mui cheered happily, not understanding what her father’s success meant for them all. The adults stood stoic and grim faced.

***

Phiew walked down the gangplank of Uncle Han’s boat to join the others on the shore. Han had said it was one of the last remaining original Red Boats, and the very boat that his adoptive parents had been married on and traveled on together with his birth parents. Leong had been in a fog of nostalgia the entire trip to Pak Mei’s temple. She followed just behind Phiew onto the shore. They were a mile up river from Pak Mei’s temple.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Mother?” asked Phiew. He had spent much of the journey trying to dissuade her from coming.

“This is as much my fight as it is yours. I made a promise a long time ago, and I intend on keeping it. Pak Mei is all yours. I’m just here to get you to him in one piece.” Leong used her tone Phiew knew couldn’t be argued with.

With a sigh of resignation Phiew looked at the Shaolin brothers who had answered his call. Along with Uncle Han, there were two sons of the snake clan dressed in red and blue silk capes, an elderly raccoon dog wearing a conical hat and a long chain of prayer beads, a massive rhino, and a white rabbit with pure red eyes dressed in black robes. They were all survivors, or students of survivors, of the sacks on the Shaolin temples. Phiew was not the only one who had been preparing for this day for many years.