Authors: Sarah McCarty
“And what if I don’t want to be a concubine?”
Lin sat beside her. “Then you should stay with the marriage you are in.”
A few sticks fell off Fei’s pile. She bent to pick them up. “He plans to repudiate me.”
Lin stood and gasped. Not a stick dropped, even in the midst of her indignation. Lin was always graceful. “You would be shamed before all!”
“Yes, but that doesn’t matter.”
“You will only be fit to be the lowest of concubines.”
If that. And it would be a worry if she planned on letting her uncles control her future. “I understand. But it is the price I must pay to leave here.”
“It is too high.”
No price was too high if she could have her freedom.
Lin sat down again. “I will intercede with the uncles. I will find you a place in our house.”
“You intend to go back to San Francisco, then?”
“Of course. Our family is there. I will tell Uncle Chung that you saved my virtue. He will pay the debt owed with a place in our house.”
Fei didn’t know Uncle Chung very well. It might be that he was an honorable man, but it was also just as likely that an unmarried young woman in his home would find herself in the role of concubine anyway.
“I do not think so.”
That shocked Lin into dropping the bundle of sticks and covering her mouth. “You would be a prostitute?”
No. Never. She carefully straightened the sticks in her pile. “I thought I would become an American.”
“Leave your family?”
Lin made it sound as if becoming a prostitute would be preferable. But that was how it was in their world. Family was everything.
“With the exception of you, my family is dead.”
“Your father’s family in China would take you in.”
Fei remembered the disapproving looks when she’d lived there. The cold shoulders. The less-than-choice rooms, the less-than-choice clothes, the always less-than-choice welcome for the mixed-blood daughter of a third son. “I would not be happy there.”
“You cannot be alone.”
Being alone scared her to death. It went against everything she’d been raised to believe. She’d always lived under someone else’s rule and command. It was terrifying to live without that shield, but American women did it. Not frequently, but they did it. “It will not be easy.”
“It is not done. I will not let you do this.”
There was no way Lin could understand. She was full-blooded Chinese. Her father and mother still lived. She was pampered and adored and very comfortable in California. If Lin’s family had known of Fei’s father’s illness, they never would have entrusted Lin’s care to them. There would be much dishonor on her family name if one word of that came out. Fei highly doubted that Lin’s family would welcome her into their embrace when they found out how her father had betrayed them. They would feel as she did. That she should have been able to stop it. But Lin did not have to be burdened by that. She’d been through enough this past week.
“You could stay with me.”
Lin blinked. “I’m not like you, Fei. I do not crave independence.”
Fei knew that. She just had to try, because there were parts of her world she liked. Mostly her friendship with Lin. But it was time to grow up and put childish needs behind her. Lin wanted to go home to San Francisco. Fei would make sure she got there safely. And then she’d make her own plans. “I know.”
She headed back to the campsite.
“I knew this would happen, but I hate that our lives are taking different paths.”
“It makes me sad, too, but first we are having an adventure.” Lin dumped her sticks on the ground and smiled behind her hand. “It is very American to have an adventure. So…” Putting her hands on her hips, Lin surveyed the pile of sticks. “What do we do now that we have cleaned up the forest floor?”
Fei honestly didn’t know. She was out of sulfurs and didn’t know any other way to make a fire.
“Your new husband didn’t leave you sulfurs along with that big knife before hunting for our breakfast?”
Fei tossed her sticks on the ground and glared at the knife, sitting on its sheath, propped against a tree. “No.”
Lin smiled and started rebraiding her hair. “Well, I don’t think the squirrels will be hiding any.”
Fei borrowed an American expression. “Well, shoot.”
“What orders did your American husband leave, other than building a fire?”
“What he always says. Stay out of trouble.”
Lin sniffed her shirt. “Bathing could not be construed as trouble.”
No, it couldn’t. Fei sniffed her own hand. Bathing was definitely in order. It would be safe. After all, how much trouble could they get in by taking a bath?
T
HEY
HAD
TO
GO
A
LITTLE
WAYS
downstream to find a place wide enough in the stream to actually bathe. It wasn’t the fragrant bath that Fei took at home, but it felt good to get the dirt off her skin and she’d been able to find wild mint with which to scent the soap. She was just rinsing her hair when there was a rustle in the bushes. She thought it was a bird, and as the noise got louder, Shadow. But then she realized as goose bumps raised along her arms, Shadow would not sneak.
Very quietly she ordered, “Lin, get dressed.”
She reached for her tunic. Lin did the same.
“What is it?”
“I do not know.”
She’d left the knife on the far bank of the stream. Too far to get to quickly.
Stay out of trouble.
It was too late for the mental repeat of the warning. Trouble was here.
What came out of the bushes wasn’t Shadow. It wasn’t even human.
“Don’t move, Lin.” From her expression, the other woman couldn’t move even if she wanted to.
“What is it?”
“A boar.”
There was nothing more fierce. Nothing more unpredictable. And it was staring at them with beady, angry eyes. Fei inched slowly toward the far bank, where she’d left the knife. The boar grunted and pawed at the ground. His tail twitched.
“Fei, he sees you.”
“I know.”
“Do not move. If you do not move, maybe he’ll go away.”
The boar took a step forward and tossed its head. Fei inched a little bit farther. The boar squealed. Grabbing a rock, she threw it at the animal.
“Go away!” she screamed. The boar screamed right back, tossing his head again and flashing those deadly-looking tusks.
“Fei,” Lin whispered. “Run!”
Mud flew as the boar charged. Jumping to her feet, Fei scrambled to the far bank, splashing through the narrow stream. Her feet slipped on the rocks. Behind her, she heard the boar splash into the water. She screamed for Shadow, wanting nothing more than to jump into his arms and let him handle this.
The knife was just feet away. So was the boar. With a lunge, she grabbed the knife and raised it above her head. The boar kept charging, its stout body moving like a cannonball.
The knife was nothing against such a creature.
“Climb a tree,” Lin shouted, throwing a rock at the oblivious boar. Fei held tightly to the knife and bolted. She tripped in the mud. The boar stopped and snorted before lowering its head again. Desperate, Fei reached out. Her hand hit something hard. Grabbing it, she turned and braced into the ground. The boar charged. It was such a puny stick and it was such a big boar. She closed her eyes. The boar screamed. Something warm sprayed across her face. She opened her eyes. The stick was buried in the boar’s mouth. Every time he shook his head, blood sprayed. It was still alive and madder than ever. Every time it lowered its head the stick gouged into the ground. The pain should have stopped the animal, should’ve made it run away. But it didn’t. It just kept trying to come at her.
The only thing that saved her was that stick.
“Hurry, Fei!” Lin screamed.
Yes, she had to hurry. Her legs felt like jelly. She worked her way backward, scrambling toward the knife. When she reached it, she grabbed it up in both hands and held it in front of her like a spear.
“Over here!” Lin called.
There was nowhere to go. No matter which way she tried to run the boar was there, ready to cut her off. So much blood. He had to be dying. She screamed for Shadow. The boar charged again, this time keeping it’s head high. Fei couldn’t look away from its beady, hate-filled eyes. Time slowed to a crawl. Every detail became magnified. She could see the course black hairs around its snout, the flecks of bloody foam frothing from the corners of its mouth. The brown stains on its tusks. Instinct said
run!
Logic said stand. In her heart, she knew she couldn’t win either way.
“Fei, climb a tree!”
There were no trees close enough to climb. None big enough to hold her weight. But she had to try. It wasn’t in her just to give up. Spinning on her heel, she sprinted toward the biggest one. If she was lucky, boars couldn’t jump and maybe she’d be safe.
The boar squealed. Lin screamed. Fei didn’t need either to know the animal was in pursuit. She could hear it behind her, tearing up the ground, gaining with every step. Beyond that she could hear Lin screaming encouragement to her and threats to the pig. It all crashed together in a squall of noise that blended with her heartbeat and the pounding of her feet as she ran. She made it to the tree. With the last of her strength she leaped for the lowest branch, which was two feet above her head, forgetting about the knife in her hand.
The blade nicked her hand. She couldn’t get a grip. Her free hand slipped and she fell backward, landing on the boar. With a bloodcurdling squeal it tossed her in the air. She went flying. She hit a smaller tree and slid down. The force of the blow stole the air from her lungs, or maybe it was just terror. It did not matter. The boar was charging again. Random memories of her life flashed across her mind, her father’s first lesson in befriending dynamite, her cousin’s teasing, her mother’s smile and laughter. Laughter. Her mother had been happy.
Fei wanted to be happy, too. She wasn’t going to die without knowing what it was like to be happy. No pig was going to take that from her. She brought the knife down, aiming for the back of its neck. Just before she struck, the boar spun, catching the blow midmotion. The knife plunged into its eye, scraping on the eye socket as the momentum drove it forward. For a second, the pig stood frozen, hate and blood mixed together into terrifying threat. And then it dropped like a stone to the ground. No squeals, nothing but a silent fall.
Pinned between the tree and the boar, Fei held her breath, waiting for it to get up. It didn’t move and neither did she.