Be what you are

Words die in Irene’s throat, a constricting force overtaking her chest. She is frozen. Fear shoots up her lungs, paralyzing her body. The tiger girl lunging for Seulgi and her pale yellow claws shredding. Slashing into thighs. Crimson, gushing like a fountain. The scene unfolds in slow motion for Irene, then reality crashes back in. Seulgi screams and falls to the ground, clutching her legs. The girl’s claws do not let go, tearing deeper into soft flesh. Inadvertently, Irene looks directly into feline eyes. They radiate ecstasy, relishing in the terror marring Seulgi’s face. They’re taunting, mocking, and she’s aware of her audience. Swiftly, she pulls out her claws, dripping blood. 

Seulgi screams again. Panting, the mauled girl drags herself forward with her arms, desperate to reach the finish line a meter away. Gripping the grass, pawing at nothing. Seulgi’s eyelids flutter, body twitching. Razors pierce her skin. Into both legs without mercy. 

A horrific cry rips from the girl’s mouth, never leaving Irene’s ears.  

“Stop! Enough!” yells Brother Soma. He runs over, pulling the tiger girl off, who does not resist. The other Shamans merely observe, mildly perplexed. 

Tearing off the sleeves of his robe, the lone Shaman wraps them tightly around the gaping wounds. Blood soaks through, staining his hands. Gently, he carries her.

“She can be saved,” he says. The group of Shamans remain mute. Hearing no protests, he rushes to the infirmary. 

“What will we do now?” The Shamans gather around in their tent, displeased over the outcome. Sitting on the ground, discussing the day’s abnormal event. A combatant rescued, with the help of one of their own trusted brothers. It would not be an issue if the girl had completed the challenge. If she needed medical care, they would happily provide it in that case. However, their Brother had gone against their traditions, to prevent the death of  fodder.

“She did not cross the finish line.”

“Then she should be disqualified. Send her back to the city,” a Shaman suggests. The rest of them hum in agreement. Hearing assent, Brother Soma rises to his feet. 

“Have we become so illiberal that traditions reign above all? Remember what the Earth Mother has said. Our old customs will be our downfall.”  

“Silence, Brother! You have done more than necessary.” The Head Shaman glowers. Ire smolders underneath the surface, voice barely constrained.

“Our ways exist for good reasons and they shall prevail. As the youngest, it is not your place to criticize the Earth Mother’s laws.” 

“It is in your place and mine to heed her words, whatever they may be. Whether or not they contradict the sacred laws, we follow to the best of our ability,” Soma responds. 

“And are we not listening to the Earth Mother? You dare question our loyalty, Brother?” 

“That is not my intention, but you have interpreted it as such. I only dare to ask of our forgotten leniency. The girl deserves another chance.” Beside him, another Shaman coughs, drowning his words.

“What exactly has the girl done to earn a second chance? If she cannot even complete a simple challenge, she will surely fail the next.” 

“I will vouch for her on the honour of my title as Shaman. Should she fail, I will relinquish my place in the council.” The Head Shaman studies him, lips arching. Determination burns within Soma, a refusal of compliance. His steadfast nature has not dampened since he was a boy under their training. 

“A bold proclamation, Brother. Tread carefully,” remarks the Head Shaman. 

“My statement remains for I have considered our Lady’s recent warning.”

“Very well, Kang Seulgi may compete in the arena, on one condition. We will not provide any medical aid beyond bandages.”

“I accept. Let my fellow Shamans be witness to my vow.”   

“For your sake, Brother, I pray she succeeds.” 

Crack. Seulgi relaxes her joint and bends another one. Crack. There’s nothing to do as she lies in bed, tracing patterns in the ceiling. Shaking her hands, she lets her arms fall to her sides. Restlessness takes over, drumming on the sheets. 

Being stuck in the infirmary has its perks. She doesn’t have to partake in training. Doesn’t need to wake up at 6 in the morning for 10 mile jogs. No one is around so it’s peaceful and quiet, but that is the problem. Not a single soul visits the tent except for Brother Soma. She is grateful; he checks on her wounds, washes them, and talks to her briefly. His attempts at polite conversation are the peak of her mundane days. 

“Isn’t this familiar?” Seulgi grins. She waves both arms in the air, swaying haphazardly to greet the newcomer. 

“I’m a regular now,” Seulgi replies. The bed dips, weight settling on the left side. Looking up, she meets a smirking Joy. Her smile fades when the other girl turns serious. 

“You woke up three days ago?” the girl asks.

“That’s what I’ve been told. Brother Soma comes every day and talks.” 

“He was caring and examined my injuries. Replaced bandages when necessary,” Seulgi recalls.

“I bet he was.”

“You’re calm. Too calm.” Realization hits Seulgi, suspicions rising. She, herself, did not make it, she did not cross the finish line. How is she still on the training grounds, when she should have been sent home? 

“You’re not dead so I’ll save the revenge for later.”   

“Was it you? You convinced the Shamans to let me stay?” 

“It was Soma who did the convincing, from what I hear around camp. The whole affair is covered up,” admits Joy. 

“I’ll have to thank him.”

“Let’s talk about your legs. Soma didn’t give you the Lady’s water?” Seulgi reaches down to the bandages, brushing them lightly. Applying slight pressure, she winces, immediately withdrawing her hands. 

“No, I didn’t ask for it either.“ Joy clenches her jaw. 

“I’m not f