17
A Beginning
Miss Kelsey!’ Mr. Kadam welcomed warmly. ‘I’m glad to see you, too! I hope the boys took good care of you.’
Ren snorted and found a shady spot to rest.
‘Yes. They did. I’m fine.’
Mr. Kadam led me to a log near his campfire. ‘Here, sit down and rest while I break camp.’
I nibbled on a cookie as I watched Mr. Kadam shuffle around taking down his tent and packing up his books. His camp was as well organized as I expected it to be. He’d used the back of the Jeep to store his books and other study materials. A campfire was crackling merrily, and he had plenty of wood stacked alongside. His tent looked like something the United States military might house a general in if he were roughing it. It appeared to be expensive, heavy, and much more complicated to set up than mine. He even had a fancy fold-up writing desk covered with papers held down with smooth, clean river rocks.
I stood up and looked at the papers with curiosity. ‘Mr. Kadam, are these the translations of Durga’s prophecy?’
I heard a grunt and a slight ping as Mr. Kadam pulled a heavy stake out of the ground. The tent suddenly folded in on itself and collapsed in a pile of heavy green canvas. He stood up to answer my question.
‘Yes. I’ve begun working on the translation of the monolith. I am quite sure that we need to go to Hampi. I also have a better idea of what we’re looking for.’
‘Hmm.’ I picked up his notes, most of which weren’t in English. As I sipped my water, my hand came up to finger the amulet Kishan had given me.
‘Mr. Kadam, Kishan gave me his piece of the amulet, hoping it will protect me. Does yours protect you? Can you still be hurt?’
He walked over and stowed the wrapped tent into the Jeep. He leaned on the bumper, and said, ‘The amulet helps protect me from serious injury, but I can still cut myself or fall and sprain my ankle.’
Mr. Kadam rubbed his short beard thoughtfully. ‘I have become ill, but I have not experienced disease. My cuts and bruises have healed quickly, albeit not as quickly as Ren’s or Kishan’s would.’
He picked up the amulet hanging around my neck and examined it carefully. ‘The different pieces may have different properties. We don’t really know what the extent of its power is at this point. It’s a mystery that I hope to solve one day. The bottom line, however, is to not take risks. If something looks dangerous, avoid it. If something chases you, run. Do you understand?’
‘Got it.’
He dropped the amulet and went back to stowing things in the Jeep. ‘I’m glad that Kishan agreed to give it to you.’
‘Agreed? I thought it was his idea.’
‘No, actually, getting the amulet was the reason Ren wanted to stop here in the first place. He wouldn’t leave until he’d convinced Kishan to let you have it.’
Puzzled, I said, ‘Really? I thought we were trying to convince Kishan to join us.’
Mr. Kadam shook his head sadly. ‘We knew there was little hope of that. Kishan has been indifferent to any previous efforts I’ve made to conscript him for our cause. I’ve tried over the years to lure him out of the jungle and into a more comfortable life at the house, but he prefers to remain here.’
I nodded. ‘He’s punishing himself for Yesubai’s death.’
Mr. Kadam looked at me, surprised. ‘Did he speak of this to you?’
‘Yes. He told me what happened when Yesubai died. He still blames himself. And not just for her death, but also for what happened to him and Ren. I feel very sad for Kishan.’
Mr. Kadam sagely considered. For such a young person, ‘you’re very compassionate and perceptive, Miss Kelsey. I’m glad Kishan was able to confide in you. There is hope for him yet.’
I helped him gather up his papers and the fold-up chair and table. When we were done, I patted Ren lightly on his shoulder to let him know we were ready to leave. He stood slowly, arched his back, twitched his tail, and then curled his tongue in a giant yawn. After rubbing his head against my hand, he followed me to the Jeep. I hopped into the passenger seat, leaving the back open for Ren to sprawl out in.
Driving back to the highway, Mr. Kadam seemed to actually enjoy weaving through the obstacle course of tree stumps, bushes, rocks, and potholes. The Jeep’s shock absorbers were top of the line, but I still had to hold tightly onto the door handle and brace myself against the dashboard to keep from knocking my head on the roof. Finally, we were out onto the smooth highway again and heading southwest.
Mr. Kadam encouraged, ‘Tell me all about your week with two tigers.’
I peeked at Ren in the backseat. He seemed to be napping, so I decided to start by telling him about the hunt first, and then I backtracked and talked about everything else. Well, almost everything else. I didn’t talk about the kissing thing. It wasn’t that I thought Mr. Kadam wouldn’t have understood; in fact, I think he would have. I couldn’t trust that Ren was actually asleep in the back, and I wasn’t ready to share my feelings yet, so I skipped that part.
Mr. Kadam was most interested in hearing about Kishan. He’d been shocked when Kishan walked out of the jungle asking for more food for me. He said that Kishan hadn’t seemed to care about anything or anyone since his parents had died.
I told him about how Kishan stayed with me for five days while Ren was hunting and that we talked about how he met Yesubai. I tried to keep my voice quiet and whisper about her so I didn’t upset Ren. Mr. Kadam seemed puzzled at my need to encode everything I was saying, but he indulged me anyway. He nodded, while carefully listening to my comments about you-know-what and the thing-that-happened-at-that-place.
I could tell he knew more and could have filled in a few blanks for me but he wouldn’t divulge information loosely. Mr. Kadam was the type of man who kept confidences. That characteristic worked both for me and against me. Ultimately, I decided that it was a good thing and changed the subject to Ren and Kishan’s childhood.
‘Ah. The boys were their parents’ pride and joy – royal princes with a knack for getting into trouble and charming their way out of it. They were given anything they desired, but they had to work to earn it.
‘Deschen, their mother, was unconventional for India. She would take them out in disguise to play with the poor children. She wanted her children to be open to all cultures and religious practices. Her marriage to their father, King Rajaram, was a blend of two cultures. He loved and indulged her, not caring what anyone else thought. The boys were raised with the best of both worlds. They studied everything from politics and warfare to herding and crops. They were trained in the weapons of India, and also had access to the best teachers from all over Asia.’
‘Did they do other things? Like normal teenager stuff?’
‘What types of things are you curious about?’
I twitched nervously. ‘Did they . . . date?’
Mr. Kadam quirked an eyebrow curiously. ‘No. Definitely not. The story you told me about,’ he winked, ‘you-know-what is the only time I have ever heard of either of them having a romantic escapade. Frankly, they had no time for that, and both boys were to have arranged marriages anyway.’
I rested my head against the seat back after tilting it back a little. I tried to imagine what their lives were like. It must have been difficult having no choices, but then again they were privileged when others had much less. Still, having freedom of choice was something I treasured.
Soon, my thoughts became foggy, and my tired body nudged me into a deep sleep. When I woke up, Mr. Kadam handed me a wrapped sandwich and a large fruit juice.
‘Go ahead and eat something. We’ll stop at a hotel for the night so you can get a good night’s rest in a comfortable bed for a change.’
‘What about Ren?’
‘I picked a hotel that’s near a small section of jungle. We can drop him there and pick him up on the way back.’
‘What about tiger traps?’
Mr. Kadam laughed softly. ‘Told you about that, did he? Don’t worry, Miss Kelsey. He’s not likely to make the same mistake twice. There aren’t any big animals in this area so the townsfolk won’t look for him. If he keeps his head low there shouldn’t be any trouble.’
An hour later, Mr. Kadam pulled over near a dense part of the jungle at the outskirts of a small town and let Ren out. We continued on to a small town that was bustling with vibrantly dressed people and colorful homes and pulled to a stop in front of our hotel.
‘It’s not a five star,’ Mr. Kadam explained, ‘but it does have its charms.’
A polished square convenience store window displayed sale items. On top of the store, I saw a giant sign supported by a wood frame. It was painted pink and red and announced the store’s name, which I couldn’t read, and featured an old-fashioned cola bottle, which was universally recognizable no matter what language was printed on it.
Mr. Kadam approached the hotel’s front desk while I wandered around, examining the interesting products for sale. I found American chocolate bars and soda products mixed in with unusual candies and frozen popsicles in exotic flavors.
Mr. Kadam got our keys and bought us two colas and two popsicles. He handed me a white one while he took the orange one. I pulled off the wrapper, warily smelling my frozen treat.
‘It’s not something like soy bean and curry is it?’
He grinned. ‘Take a bite.’
I did and was surprised to find it was coconut flavored. Not as good as Tillamook Mudslide, but not bad at all, I mused.
Mr. Kadam bit off a hunk of his popsicle, held it up with a grin, and said, ‘Mango.’
The two-story, mint-green hotel had a wrought iron gate, a concrete patio, and flamingo pink trim. My room had a full-size bed set in the middle of the floor. A colorful curtain hid a small closet with a few wooden hangars. A basin and a pitcher of fresh water as well as a couple of earthenware mugs rested on a table. Instead of air conditioning, a ceiling fan circled lazily overhead, barely stirring the warm air. There was no bathroom. All tenants had to share the facilities on the first floor. The accommodations were sparse, but it still beat the jungle, hands down.
After seeing me settled and giving me my key, Mr. Kadam said he would come retrieve me to take me to dinner in three hours, and then he retreated, leaving me to my privacy.
He was barely out the door when a small Indian woman wearing a bright orange flowing shirt over a white skirt came to launder my dirty clothes. In no time at all, she returned with my washed clothes and hung them on the clothesline outside my door. They flapped quietly in the breeze, and I drowsed listening to the soothing domestic sound.
After a short nap and sketching a few new drawings of Ren as a tiger, I braided my hair and tied it with a red ribbon to match my red shirt. I’d just finished putting on my sneakers when Mr. Kadam knocked on the door.
He took me out to eat at what he said was the best restaurant in town, The Mango Flower. We took a small motorboat taxi across the river and walked to a building that looked like a plantation house that was surrounded by banana, palm, and mango trees.
He led me around the back, and we walked on a paved stone path that led to an amazing view of the river. Heavy wooden tables with smooth polished tops and stone benches were placed all around a patio. Decorated iron lanterns were set on the corner of each table and provided the only light. A brick archway to the right was covered in white jasmine that perfumed the evening air.
‘Mr. Kadam, this is lovely!’
‘Yes, the man at the front desk recommended it. I thought you would enjoy a good meal since you’ve been eating army rations for a week.’
I let Mr. Kadam order for me since I had no idea what the menu said. We enjoyed a dinner of basmati rice, grilled vegetables, chicken saag, which turned out to be chicken cooked with creamed spinach, a flaky white fish with mango chutney, vegetable pakora fritters, coconut prawns, naan bread, and a kind of lemonade made with a dash of cumin and mint called jal jeera. I sipped the lemonade, found it was a bit too tangy for my taste, and ended up drinking a lot of water instead.
As we started our meal, I asked Mr. Kadam what more he’d learned about the prophecy.
He wiped his mouth with his napkin, took a sip of water, and said, ‘I believe what you are seeking is called the Golden Fruit of India.’ He leaned in a little closer and lowered his voice. ‘The tale of the Golden Fruit is a very old legend forgotten by most modern scholars. It was supposedly an object of divine origin given to Hanuman to watch over and protect. Shall I tell you the story?’
I sipped my water and nodded.
‘India was once a vast wasteland, completely uninhabitable. It was full of fiery serpents, great deserts, and fierce beasts. Then the gods and goddesses came and the face of the land changed. They created man and gave mankind special gifts, the first one being the Golden Fruit. When it was planted, a mighty tree sprang up, and from the fruit that grew on the tree, seeds were gathered and spread all over India, changing it into a fertile land that would feed millions.’
‘But, if the Golden Fruit was planted, wouldn’t it have disappeared or become the roots of the tree?’
‘One fruit from that first tree ripened quickly and became golden, and that Golden Fruit was taken and hidden by Hanuman, the half-man, half-monkey king of Kishkindha. As long as the fruit is protected, India’s people will be fed.’
‘So that’s the fruit we have to find? What if Hanuman is still protecting it and we can’t get to it?’
‘Hanuman protected the fruit by placing it in his fortress and surrounding it with immortal servants who would watch over it. I don’t know much about the kinds of barriers that would be set up to stop you. I’m guessing there will be more than one trap designed to pull you from your course. On the other hand, you are Durga’s favored one, and you have her protection as well.’
I rubbed my hand absent-mindedly. It tingled. The henna drawing had faded, but I knew it was still there. I sipped my water.
‘Do you really think we’ll find anything? I mean, do you really believe in this stuff?’
‘I don’t know. I hope it’s true so the tigers can be freed. I try to keep my mind open. I know there are powers that I can’t discern and things that bend and shape us that we can’t see. I shouldn’t be alive, but somehow I am. Ren and Kishan are trapped in some kind of magic that I don’t understand, and it’s my duty to help them.’
I must have looked worried because he patted my hand and said, ‘Don’t fret. I have a strong feeling that everything will work out in the end. It’s faith that keeps me focused on our goal. I have great confidence in you and Ren, and I believe, for the first time in centuries, that there is hope.’
He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. ‘Now, shall we turn our attention to dessert?’
He ordered kulfi for both of us, which he explained was an Indian ice cream made from fresh cream and nuts. It was refreshing on a warm evening, though not as sweet or creamy as American ice cream.
After dinner, we strolled back to the boat and talked about Hampi. Mr. Kadam advised that we should visit a local temple of Durga before we ventured to the ruins to look for the gateway to Kishkindha.
As we strolled slowly through town to the market, Mr. Kadam and I caught sight of our mint-green hotel. He turned to me with a sheepish expression and said, ‘I hope you forgive me in choosing this somewhat modest hotel. I wanted to stay in the smaller town closer to the jungle in case Ren needed me. He can reach us here quickly if he needs to, and I felt safer being closer to him.’
‘I’m fine, Mr. Kadam. After staying in the jungle for a week, this feels luxurious.’
He laughed and nodded his head. We browsed through the different stalls, and Mr. Kadam bought some fruit we could share for breakfast and some type of rice cakes wrapped in banana leaves. They looked similar to the lunch Phet had made for me, but Mr. Kadam assured me they were sweet and not spicy.
After I got ready for bed, I fluffed my pillow and stuck it behind my back, pulled my freshly washed and dried quilt over my lap, and thought about Ren sitting in the jungle all alone. I felt guilty being here with him out there. I also missed him and felt lonely. I liked having him around. Sighing deeply, I pulled my hair out of my braid, wiggled down, and fell into a light sleep.
Sometime around midnight, a soft knock on my door woke me. I was hesitant to open it. It was late, and surely it couldn’t be Mr. Kadam. I walked to the door, put my hand quietly against it, and listened.
There was a muffled tap again, and I heard a familiar voice whisper faintly, ‘Kelsey, it’s me.’
I unlocked the door and peeked out. Ren was standing there dressed in his white clothes, barefoot, with a triumphant grin on his face. I pulled him inside and hissed out thickly, ‘What are you doing here? It’s dangerous coming into town! You could have been seen, and they’d send hunters out after you!’
He shrugged his shoulders and grinned. ‘I missed you.’
My mouth quirked up in a half smile. ‘I missed you too.’
He leaned a shoulder nonchalantly against the doorframe. ‘Does that mean you’ll let me stay here? I’ll sleep on the floor and leave before daylight. No one will see me. I promise.’
I let out a deep breath. ‘Okay, but promise you’ll leave early. I don’t like you risking yourself like this.’
‘I promise.’ He sat down on the bed, took my hand, and pulled me down to sit beside him. ‘I don’t like sleeping in the dark jungle by myself.’
‘I wouldn’t either.’
He looked down at our entwined hands. ‘When I’m with you, I feel like a man again. When I’m out there all alone, I feel like a beast, an animal.’ His eyes darted up to mine.
I squeezed his hand. ‘I understand. It’s fine. Really.’
He grinned. ‘You were hard to track, you know. Lucky for me you two decided to walk to dinner, so I could follow your scent right to your door.’
Something on the night-stand caught his attention. Leaning around me, he reached over and picked up my open journal. I had drawn a new picture of a tiger – my tiger. My circus drawings were okay, but this latest one was more personal and full of life. Ren stared at it for a moment while a bright crimson flush colored my cheeks.
He traced the tiger with his finger, and then whispered gently, ‘Someday, I’ll give you a portrait of the real me.’
Setting the journal down carefully, he took both of my hands in his, turned to me with an intense expression, and said, ‘I don’t want you to see only a tiger when you look at me. I want you to see me. The man.’
Reaching out, he almost touched my cheek but he stopped and withdrew his hand. ‘I’ve worn the tiger’s face for far too many years. He’s stolen my humanity.’
I nodded while he squeezed my hands and whispered quietly, ‘Kells, I don’t want to be him anymore. I want to be me. I want to have a life.’
‘I know,’ I said softly. I reached up to stroke his cheek. ‘Ren, I—’ I froze in place as he pulled my hand slowly down to his lips and kissed my palm. My hand tingled. His blue eyes searched my face desperately, wanting, needing something from me.
I wanted to say something to reassure him. I wanted to offer him comfort. I just couldn’t frame the words. His supplication stirred me. I felt a deep bond with him, a strong connection. I wanted to help him, I wanted to be his friend, and I wanted . . . maybe something more. I tried to identify and categorize my reactions to him. What I felt for him seemed too complicated to define, but it soon became obvious to me that the strongest emotion I felt, the one that was stirring my heart, was . . . love.
I’d built a dam around my heart after my family died. I hadn’t really let myself love anyone because I was afraid they’d be taken from me again. I purposefully avoided close ties. I liked people and had many friendly relationships, but I didn’t risk loving. Not like this.
His vulnerability allowed me to let my guard down, and gently and methodically, he tore apart my well-constructed dam. Waves of tender feelings were lapping over the top and slipping through the cracks. The feelings flooded through and spilled into me. It was frightening opening myself up to feel love for someone again. My heart pounded hard and thudded audibly in my chest. I was sure he could hear it.
Ren’s expression changed as he watched my face. His look of sadness was replaced by one of concern for me.
What was the next step? What should I do? What do I say? How do I share what I’m feeling?
I remembered watching romance movies with my mom, and our favorite saying was ‘shut up and kiss her already!’ We’d both get frustrated when the hero or heroine wouldn’t do what was so obvious to the two of us, and as soon as a tense, romantic moment occurred, we’d both repeat our mantra. I could hear my mom’s humor-filled voice in my mind giving me the same advice: ‘Kells, shut up and kiss him already!’
So, I got a grip on myself, and before I changed my mind, I leaned over and kissed him.
He froze. He didn’t kiss me back. He didn’t push me away. He just stopped . . . moving. I pulled back, saw the shock on his face, and instantly regretted my boldness. I stood up and walked away, embarrassed. I wanted to put some distance between us as I frantically tried to rebuild the walls around my heart.
I heard him move. He slid his hand under my elbow and turned me around. I couldn’t look at him. I just stared at his bare feet. He put a finger under my chin and tried to nudge my head up, but I still refused to meet his gaze.
‘Kelsey. Look at me.’ Lifting my eyes, they traveled from his feet to a white button in the middle of his shirt. ‘Look at me.’
My eyes continued their journey. They drifted past the golden-bronze skin of his chest, his throat, and then settled on his beautiful face. His cobalt blue eyes searched mine, questioning. He took a step closer. My breath hitched in my throat. Reaching out a hand, he slid it around my waist slowly. His other hand cupped my chin. Still watching my face, he placed his palm lightly on my cheek and traced the arch of my cheekbone with his thumb.
The touch was sweet, hesitant, and careful, the way you might try to touch a frightened doe. His face was full of wonder and awareness. I quivered. He paused just a moment more, then smiled tenderly, dipped his head, and brushed his lips lightly against mine.
He kissed me softly, tentatively, just a mere whisper of a kiss. His other hand slid down to my waist too. I timidly touched his arms with my fingertips. He was warm, and his skin was smooth. He gently pulled me closer and pressed me lightly against his chest. I gripped his arms.
He sighed with pleasure, and deepened the kiss. I melted into him.
How was I breathing? His summery sandalwood scent surrounded me. Everywhere he touched me, I felt tingly and alive.
I clutched his arms fervently. His lips never leaving mine, Ren took both of my arms and wrapped them, one by one, around his neck. Then he trailed one of his hands down my bare arm to my waist while the other slid into my hair. Before I realized what he was planning to do, he picked me up with one arm and crushed me to his chest.
I have no idea how long we kissed. It felt like a mere second, and it also felt like forever. My bare feet were dangling several inches from the floor. He was holding all my body weight easily with one arm. I buried my fingers into his hair and felt a rumble in his chest. It was similar to the purring sound he made as a tiger. After that, all coherent thought fled and time stopped.
All the neurons were firing in my brain simultaneously and causing my system to go haywire and stop working. I had no idea kissing felt like this. Sensory overload.
At some point, Ren reluctantly let me down. He still supported my weight, which was good because I was ready to fall over. He cupped my cheek and ran a thumb slowly across my bottom lip. He stood close to me, keeping one arm wrapped around my waist. His other hand moved to my hair, and his fingers began to slowly twist the loose strands.
I had to blink my eyes a few times to clear my vision.
He laughed quietly. ‘Breathe, Kelsey.’ He had a very self-satisfied, smug grin on his face, which, for some reason, got my ire up.
‘You seem very happy with yourself.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘I am.’
I smirked back at him and said, ‘Well, you didn’t ask for permission.’
‘Hmm, perhaps we should rectify that.’ He trailed his fingers up my arm, swirling little circles as he went. ‘Kelsey?’
I watched his progress and mumbled, distracted, ‘Yes?’
He stepped closer. ‘Do I—’
‘Hmm?’ I wiggled slightly.
‘Have your—’
He started nuzzling my neck then moved up to my ear. His lips ‘To kiss you?’ tickled me as he whispered, and I felt him smile, ‘Permission—’ Goose bumps broke out on my arms and I trembled.
‘To kiss you?’
I nodded weakly. Standing on my tiptoes, I slipped my arms around his neck showing him that I was definitely giving permission. He trailed kisses from my ear across to my cheek in achingly slow motion, grazing along a path of his choosing. He stopped, hovering just over my lips, and waited.
I knew what he was waiting for. I paused only a brief second before whispering faintly, ‘Yes.’
Smiling victoriously, he crushed me against his chest and kissed me again. This time, the kiss was bolder and playful. I ran my hands from his powerful shoulders, up to his neck, and pressed him close to me.
When he pulled away, his face brightened with an enthusiastic smile. He scooped me up and spun me around the room, laughing. When I was thoroughly dizzy, he sobered and touched his forehead to mine. Shyly, I reached out to touch his face, exploring the angles of his cheeks and lips with my fingertips. He leaned into my touch like the tiger did. I laughed softly and ran my hands up into his hair, brushing it away from his forehead, loving the silky feel of it.
I felt overwhelmed. I didn’t expect a first kiss to be so . . . life altering. In a few brief moments, the rule book of my universe had been rewritten. Suddenly I was a brand new person. I was as fragile as a newborn, and I worried that the deeper I allowed the relationship to progress, the worse it would be if Ren left. What would become of us? There was no way to know, and I realized what a breakable and delicate thing a heart was. No wonder I’d kept mine locked away.
He was oblivious to my negative thoughts, and I tried to push them into the back of my mind and enjoy the moment with him. Setting me down, he briefly kissed me again and pressed soft kisses along my hairline and neck. Then, he gathered me into a warm embrace and just held me close. Stroking my hair while caressing my neck, he whispered soft words in his native language. After several moments, he sighed, kissed my cheek, and nudged me toward the bed.
‘Get some sleep, Kelsey. We both need some.’
After one last caress on my cheek with the back of his fingers, he changed into his tiger form and lay down on the mat beside my bed. I climbed into bed, settled under my quilt, and leaned over to stroke his head.
Tucking my other arm under my cheek, I softly said, ‘Goodnight, Ren.’
He rubbed his head against my hand, leaned into it, and purred quietly. Then he put his head on his paws and closed his eyes.
Mae West, a famous vaudeville actress, once said, ‘A man’s kiss is his signature.’ I grinned to myself. If that was true, then Ren’s signature was the John Hancock of kisses.
The next morning, Ren was gone. I got dressed and knocked on Mr. Kadam’s door.
The door opened and he smiled at me. ‘Miss Kelsey! Did you sleep well?’
I couldn’t detect any sarcasm and guessed that Ren had chosen not to reveal his night escapade to Mr. Kadam.
‘Yes, I slept just fine. A bit too long though. Sorry about that.’
He gestured dismissively, handing me a rice cake wrapped in banana leaf, some fruit, and a bottle of water. ‘Not to worry. We will go retrieve Ren and drive to Durga’s temple. There’s no rush.’
I headed back to my room and set down my breakfast. Slowly gathering a few personal items, I placed them in my small travel bag. I frequently caught myself daydreaming. I’d look in the mirror and touch my arm, my hair, and my lips, while remembering Ren’s kisses. I had to constantly shake myself and refocus. What should have taken me ten minutes took an hour and a half.
At the top of my bag, I placed my journal and my quilt. I zipped my bag shut, and then went in search of Mr. Kadam. He was waiting for me in the Jeep looking over maps. He smiled at me and seemed in good cheer, even though I’d made him wait so long.
We picked up Ren, who leapt out of the trees like a playful cub. When he reached the Jeep, I leaned out to pet him, and he reared up on his hind legs to nuzzle my hand and lick my arm through the open window. He hopped in the back seat, and Mr. Kadam got us back on the road.
Carefully following the map routes, he pulled off on a dirt road that led through the jungle, finally stopping at Durga’s stone temple.