Chapter 10: The Thunder, A Huge Cat and Schedule

  The sky had been perfectly clear when Khun Ming left the town.

  It was the sort of calm blue sky that suggested the weather had absolutely no intention of interfering with anyone's plans. The clouds were thin and scattered, drifting lazily above the mountains as if they had important philosophical matters to contemplate but no particular schedule to keep.

  Khun Ming appreciated that kind of sky.

  Clear weather meant predictable conditions, and predictable conditions made work easier. Dyeing cloth already involved enough variables—temperature, water, mordant balance, plant strength—that unexpected rain or lightning would have been an unnecessary complication.

  Which was fortunate.

  Because Khun Ming had plans.

  Five bolts of yellow cloth required a considerable number of marigold petals.

  He walked uphill at his usual steady pace, the dog moving beside him in quiet companionship while his mind turned the merchant's order into something more practical and measurable.

  "Five bolts," he murmured thoughtfully.

  The dog glanced up.

  "Yes, I am aware that you probably do not care about textile mathematics," Khun Ming said calmly. "However, this calculation is important because if I underestimate the number of flowers required, I will end up with four bolts of acceptable yellow and one bolt of extremely embarrassing pale disappointment."

  He lifted his fingers and began counting slowly.

  "One bolt is roughly twelve meters long," he said, extending his index finger. "Half a meter wide."

  He paused briefly, visualizing the measurements.

  "That gives us approximately six square meters of cloth per bolt."

  The dog continued walking.

  Khun Ming nodded to himself.

  "Cloth weight," he continued, raising another finger, "is roughly two hundred grams per square meter for this weave."

  He thought for a moment.

  "So that means one bolt weighs approximately one point two kilograms."

  He scratched his chin.

  "Five bolts therefore equals six kilograms of cloth."

  The dog blinked.

  Khun Ming nodded gravely.

  "Yes," he said. "That means six kilograms of fiber to dye."

  He slowed slightly.

  "Marigold extraction behaves best when the weight of petals roughly matches the weight of fiber," he continued.

  He glanced toward the forest ahead.

  "So we need at least six kilograms of petals."

  He frowned.

  "Actually," he corrected himself thoughtfully, "it would be safer to prepare slightly more than that. Plant dyes sometimes behave unpredictably depending on the strength of the harvest."

  The dog wagged its tail once.

  "Yes," Khun Ming said. "Eight kilograms would be safer."

  He resumed counting.

  "Dye bath ratio should be approximately one part fiber to twenty parts water."

  He sighed quietly.

  "That means six kilograms of fiber requires roughly one hundred and twenty liters of water."

  The dog looked unimpressed.

  "Yes," Khun Ming muttered. "That means I will be using many pots."

  He kept walking.

  "Alum mordant," he continued, raising another finger, "should be about fifteen percent of the fiber weight."

  He counted again.

  "That means nine hundred grams of alum."

  He glanced toward the cliff where the shallow cave pocket sat.

  "That cave deposit had better be generous," he said.

  They were approaching the forest intersection when the sky cracked open.

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  The thunderclap rolled across the mountains like someone had dropped a giant iron pot from heaven.

  Khun Ming stopped walking.

  "…That," he said slowly, "is a new development."

  The dog's ears snapped upward.

  Another thunderclap followed.

  But something about it felt wrong.

  The sound did not spread naturally across the sky the way thunder normally did. Instead, it struck downward—sharp, focused, and violent.

  Somewhere deeper in the forest beyond the intersection.

  Khun Ming frowned.

  "That does not sound like ordinary thunder."

  The dog was already staring toward the trees.

  Then it came again.

  BOOM.

  A flash of white light split the distant canopy.

  Khun Ming squinted.

  "…Did lightning just strike the forest?"

  The dog did not answer.

  Instead, it stood up.

  Khun Ming sighed.

  "You want to investigate."

  The dog blinked.

  "Yes," Khun Ming said, adjusting the cloth bundle on his shoulder. "I understand that curiosity is an admirable personality trait, but I would like to remind you that curiosity is also responsible for a great number of unfortunate incidents involving animals."

  Another sound rolled through the forest.

  A roar.

  Deep.

  Painful.

  Khun Ming froze.

  "…That," he said slowly, "was definitely not thunder."

  The roar came again.

  Longer.

  Angrier.

  And unmistakably full of pain.

  He looked at the dog.

  The dog looked back.

  They stood in silence for several seconds.

  Then Khun Ming muttered,

  "Alright. Fine."

  He turned around and walked back toward the cottage.

  The dog followed immediately.

  Khun Ming entered the cottage and walked directly toward the sword leaning against the wall.

  The blade remained wrapped in cloth exactly where he had left it.

  He pulled the cloth back slightly.

  The metal gleamed.

  Clean.

  Balanced.

  Suspiciously cooperative.

  Khun Ming studied it thoughtfully.

  "Well," he said, "this situation may require a slightly more serious tool than marigold petals and a wooden stirring stick."

  He lifted the sword.

  "Let us investigate this together."

  Inside the blade, seven ancient beings stirred faintly.

  The Nine-Tailed Fox sighed.

  "He is going."

  The Azure Dragon closed its eyes.

  "He always goes."

  Outside, Khun Ming stepped back onto the path.

  The dog was already waiting.

  "You are still coming with me, correct?" Khun Ming asked.

  The dog wagged its tail.

  "Yes," Khun Ming said. "Of course you are."

  They headed down the forest trail.

  The forest beyond the intersection was thicker.

  Branches blocked much of the sky, but lightning still flashed through the canopy like violent white veins.

  Another thunderbolt struck.

  The ground trembled faintly.

  Then the roar came again.

  Closer.

  Louder.

  Khun Ming slowed his pace.

  "That," he said quietly, "sounds very much like a large animal having an extremely unpleasant afternoon."

  Broken branches appeared along the path.

  Scorched leaves.

  The smell of burned wood drifted through the air.

  Another lightning strike crashed down ahead.

  Khun Ming flinched slightly.

  "Yes," he muttered. "That is definitely not ordinary weather."

  They stepped into a clearing.

  And Khun Ming saw it.

  A tiger.

  A very large tiger.

  Orange fur streaked with black stripes.

  Its massive body lay partly collapsed against a shattered tree trunk.

  The ground around it was scorched.

  Thin smoke curled upward from the soil.

  Another lightning bolt fell from the sky.

  The tiger convulsed violently.

  Its roar broke into a strained sound filled with pain.

  Khun Ming stared.

  "…Well," he said quietly.

  The dog lowered its head.

  Khun Ming squinted upward.

  "Is the lightning actively targeting that animal?"

  Another bolt struck.

  The tiger shuddered again.

  Khun Ming watched silently.

  Then he said,

  "That is extremely unfortunate."

  The dog looked at him.

  "Yes," Khun Ming said. "I understand that it is also extremely dangerous."

  Another lightning bolt struck.

  Closer.

  The tiger trembled again.

  Its breathing became ragged.

  Khun Ming frowned.

  "If I leave it here," he said slowly, "the weather will eventually finish the job."

  The dog blinked.

  "Yes," Khun Ming continued. "I am aware that it is a tiger. I have noticed the teeth."

  Another weak roar escaped the tiger's throat.

  The sound had changed.

  More exhausted now.

  Less threatening.

  Khun Ming sighed.

  "You know," he muttered, "this is exactly how people make terrible decisions in stories."

  The dog tilted its head.

  "Yes," Khun Ming said. "I am aware of the irony."

  He stepped forward cautiously.

  The tiger's golden eyes opened slightly.

  They fixed on him.

  Khun Ming stopped several steps away.

  "Hello," he said politely.

  The tiger did not respond.

  Another lightning bolt struck nearby.

  The tiger convulsed again.

  Khun Ming winced.

  "That appears extremely unpleasant."

  He studied the animal more carefully.

  Burn marks along the shoulder.

  Muscle tremors.

  Heavy breathing.

  He lowered the sword slightly.

  "You are clearly not attacking anyone today," he concluded.

  The tiger tried to lift its head.

  It failed.

  Khun Ming exhaled slowly.

  "Alright."

  He sheathed the sword.

  Then he stepped closer.

  Up close, the animal looked enormous.

  "That is a very large cat," he murmured.

  The tiger's eyes flickered toward him.

  Khun Ming crouched and inspected the burns.

  "Lightning injury," he said quietly.

  "Severe electrical shock."

  "Possibly internal damage."

  The tiger rumbled weakly.

  "Please relax," Khun Ming said calmly. "I was not responsible for the lightning."

  He placed a hand gently against the tiger's neck.

  Warm fur.

  Fast pulse.

  "Still alive," he confirmed.

  Another thunderbolt cracked above the trees.

  Khun Ming looked up.

  "The weather still appears extremely angry."

  He looked back at the tiger.

  "If you remain here," he said thoughtfully, "you will probably be cooked."

  The dog shifted.

  "Yes," Khun Ming muttered. "I understand that this is a terrible idea."

  He slid his arms beneath the tiger's body.

  The animal was heavy.

  Very heavy.

  He paused.

  "…You weigh too much," he informed the tiger politely. "You should consider a weight reduction program once you recover."

  The tiger gave a faint growl.

  "Yes," Khun Ming said. "I realize that this is not the most appropriate moment for health advice."

  He adjusted his grip.

  Then he lifted the animal.

  Slowly.

  The tiger's body rested across his arms.

  Like a groom carrying a bride.

  Khun Ming blinked.

  "…This is an extremely strange situation."

  The dog stared.

  "Yes," Khun Ming said. "You are not allowed to comment."

  He shifted the tiger slightly.

  "You are fortunate that I possess reasonable back strength."

  The tiger's head moved weakly against his shoulder.

  "Please remain still," Khun Ming said.

  "I am helping you."

  Another thunderbolt struck somewhere behind them.

  Khun Ming glanced back.

  "Yes," he said. "Let us leave before the weather decides to select a second target."

  He began walking uphill.

  The dog trotted beside him.

  Behind them, the thunder slowly faded.

  The storm quieted.

  The forest returned to ordinary sounds.

  And Khun Ming walked toward his cottage carrying an unconscious tiger in his arms, completely unaware that he had just rescued a failed tribulation survivor.

  He only sighed quietly and said,

  "…Five bolts of yellow cloth and now a tiger."

  He looked down at the animal.

  "You are significantly complicating my work schedule."

  Chapter 10 complete.