21
The Divine Weaver’s Scarf
After retrieving our treasures from the nest, I headed toward a simple rope that hung from the wood ceiling. When I pulled it, a rattling noise came from above the tree house and a panel opened. A ladder descended and struck the floor.
I explained to Kishan, “The next part will be the hardest. This ladder leads to the outside branches, which we have to climb until we hit the top where there’s a giant bird’s nest. The Scarf will be there, but so will the iron birds.”
“Iron birds?”
“Yes, and we’ll have to fight them to take the Scarf. Wait a second.” I rifled quickly through Mr. Kadam’s research and found what I was looking for. “Here. This is what we’re fighting.”
The picture of the mythological Stymphalian bird was frightening enough without the description he’d included.
Kishan read, “Terrible flesh-eating birds with iron beaks, bronze claws, and toxic droppings. They usually live in large colonies.”
“Swell, aren’t they?”
“Keep close to me, Kells. We can’t be sure that you heal here.”
“For that matter, we can’t be sure you heal here, either,” I grinned, “but I’ll try not to leave you alone too long.”
“Funny. After you.”
We climbed the ladder and found ourselves in a cluster of branches set tightly enough together that they reminded me of a children’s jungle gym. It was easy enough to climb if I didn’t think about falling. Kishan insisted that I climb first so he could catch me if I slipped, which only happened once. My foot slipped on some wet wood, and Kishan caught it, shoe and all, in his palm and pushed me upward again.
After a good climb, we rested on a branch with our backs against the trunk, Kishan lower, me higher. He tossed me a canteen of sugar-free lemonade, which I accepted gratefully. As I drained it in long gulps, I noticed some damage on the limb I was seated on.
“Kishan, take a look at this.”
A thick, gummy, chartreuse paste was splattered on the end of my branch and had apparently eaten through half of it.
“I think we’re looking at the toxic droppings,” I remarked wryly.
Kishan wrinkled his nose. “And this is old, maybe as long as two weeks ago. The smell is nasty. It’s sharp and bitter.” He blinked and rubbed his eyes. “It’s burning my nostrils.”
“I guess we’ll have to watch out for toxic bombs, huh?”
Now that he had the smell of the birds, we could follow his nose to the nest. It took another hour of climbing, but we finally came upon a giant nest resting on a trio of tree limbs.
“Wow, that’s huge! Much larger than Big Bird’s.”
“Who’s Big Bird?”
“A giant yellow bird on kid’s television. You think any of the birds are close?”
“I don’t hear anything, but the smell is everywhere.”
“Huh, lucky I have a tiger nose nearby. I can’t really smell anything.”
“Count your blessings. I don’t think I’ll ever get this smell out of my mind.”
“It’s only fair you get to fight nasty-smelling birds. Remember, Ren got the Kappa and immortal monkeys.”
Kishan grunted and kept moving toward the giant nest. Old droppings bleached the surface of the tree branches, weakening them. If we stepped too close to one, the branch’s surface crumbled into white powder and sometimes broke off altogether.
We crept closer and depended on Kishan’s hearing for warning of approaching birds. The nest was the size of a large swimming pool and made of dead tree limbs the thickness of my arm all woven together like a giant Easter basket. We climbed over the top and dropped into the nest.
Five massive eggs rested in the middle. Each one would have filled a Jacuzzi. Bronze and gleaming, they reflected the sunlight into our eyes. Kishan lightly tapped on one, and we heard a hollow metallic echo.
I circled the egg and gasped. The eggs were resting on top of the most beautiful diaphanous material I’d ever seen. The Divine Weaver’s Scarf! The cloth looked alive. Colors shifted and swirled in geometric patterns on the Scarf’s surface. A kaleidoscope of pale blue shifted into hot pink and yellow, which twisted into soft green and gold, and then slid into blue-black raven billows. It was mesmerizing.
Kishan scanned the sky and assured me the coast was clear. Then he crouched down next to me to examine the Scarf.
“We’ll have to roll the eggs off one by one, Kells. They’re heavy.”
“Alright. Let’s start with this one.”
We gripped a gleaming egg and rolled it carefully to the side of the nest, and then went back for the second. We found a feather near the second egg. Normal bird feathers were lightweight, hollow, and flexible. This one was longer than my arm, heavy, and metallic. Kishan could barely move it, and the edge was as sharp as a circular saw.
“Uh, this isn’t good.”
Kishan agreed, “We’d better hurry.”
We were rolling the third egg when we heard a loud screech.
A far-off bird was making its way toward the nest. It didn’t sound happy. I shaded my eyes to get a better look. It seemed small at first, but my opinion of its size quickly changed as it sped closer. Mighty wings held the creature in the air as it rode the thermals.
Thump. The sun hit the metallic body of the giant bird and reflected the light, blinding me. Thump. It had now come much closer and seemed to have doubled in size. It screeched out a harsh wailing call. A quieter screech echoed an answer as another joined the first bird. Thump.
The tree moved up and down as something landed on a nearby branch. A bird screamed at us and started making its way toward the nest. As always, Kishan stepped in front of me. We moved backward quickly, keeping the trunk behind us.
Thump. Thump. Thump. A bird flew over us. It was more monster than bird. I got a good look at it as it swooped overhead. Its head was tilted, so it could fix its eye on us. I estimated the wingspan to be around forty feet, or about half the length of Mr. Kadam’s plane. I strung my bow, drew back an arrow, and shivered as its shrill, high-pitched shriek vibrated through my limbs. My hand shook, and I let the arrow go. I missed.
The body of the creature was like a giant eagle. Rows of dense, overlapping metal feathers covered the bird’s torso and grew larger along its long, broad wings. Its feathers were about the size of a surfboard. The wingtips were tapered and widely separated. The iron bird beat its wings and spread its tail feathers to help it brake and swoop into the sky again.
It moved like a raptor. Powerful, muscular legs with razor sharp talons stretched out to grab us on its second pass. Kishan pushed me face-down into the nest so that the bird missed us, but only by inches. Its head looked something like a gull with a stout, longish hooked beak but there was an extra hook resting on the upper mandible of its beak, sharp on both sides like a double-edged sword.
When one of the birds came closer, it nipped at us, and I heard a metallic shear as the sharp edges of its beak snapped together like a pair of giant scissors.
Another came too close so I zapped it with a lightning bolt. The energy hit the bird on its chest and bounced off, scorching the nest not a foot from where Kishan was standing.
“Watch it, Kells!”
This was not looking good. I shouted, “My lightning bolts just bounce off!”
“Let me try!” He threw the chakram. It hurled through the air in a wide arc past the bird.
“Kishan! How do you miss something that big?”
“Just watch!”
As the chakram completed its arc and spun back to Kishan, it hit the bird on the return trip and sliced through a metallic wing, making a terrible sound, something like a drill on sheet metal. The bird screamed and fell thousands of feet to the ground below, tearing off branches and tree limbs as it went. The tree shook wildly as it crashed.
Three more birds circled overhead and tried to grab us with knifelike talons or beaks. I nocked another arrow and aimed for the nearest one. The arrow struck the bird right in the chest, but all it did was make it angry.
Kishan ducked between some eggs as a bird tried to shish kabob him with a talon.
“Aim for the neck or the eyes, Kelsey!”
I shot off another arrow into the neck and a third into the eye. The bird flew off and then fell, spinning like an out of control airplane before crashing to the ground. Now they were really mad.
More birds arrived. They seemed intelligent and resourceful. One nipped at Kishan, backing him to the edge of the nest. While he was busy there, a second bird reached out and grabbed him with its talons.
“Kishan!”
I raised my hand and aimed for its eye. This time, the lightning bolt worked. The iron bird shrieked and let Kishan go, dropping him with a thud into the nest. I did the same thing to the other bird, and it took off, calling madly to its flock mates.
I raced over to Kishan. “Are you alright?”
His shirt was torn and bloody. The bird’s talons had raked across both sides of his chest, and he was bleeding freely.
He panted. “It’s okay. It hurts. It feels like hot knives pressed against my skin, but it’s healing. Don’t let them get near you.”
The skin around the slices was blistered and angry red.
“It looks like their talons are coated with acid too,” I said sympathetically.
He sucked in a breath when I lightly touched his skin. “I’ll be fine.” He froze. “Listen. They are communicating with each other. They’re coming back. Get ready to fight.” Kishan stood to distract them while I took a position behind the remaining two eggs.
“All things considered, I’d rather have monkeys,” Kishan shouted.
I shivered. “Tell you what. We’ll rent King Kong and The Birds. Then you can decide.”
He yelled as he ran from a swooping bird, “Are you asking me on a date? Because if you are, it will definitely give me more incentive to come out of this alive.”
“Whatever works.”
“You’re on.”
He ran across the nest, jumped off the edge, flipped over in midair and landed on a tree limb that jutted out. He threw the chakram, and it soared into the sky. The sun glinted off the golden disc as it whirled around the tree and sliced through the dozen or so birds circling the top.
They split off in every direction and then regrouped. I could almost see them calculating their next maneuver. All at once, they dove for us. Shrieking, the flock attacked. I’d once seen a colony of seagulls display mobbing behavior. They all pecked and harassed a man with a sandwich at the beach until he ran away screaming. They were violent, determined, and aggressive, but these birds were worse!
The birds ripped limbs off the tree to reach us. More than half of them dove for Kishan, who agilely leapt from branch to branch until he was back with me behind the eggs. Frenzied flapping around the nest blew air in every direction. I felt as if I was caught in a whirlwind.
Kishan threw his chakram again and again, cutting off the leg of one bird and slicing the belly of a second before the weapon returned to his hand. I got rid of two with arrows through the eyes and blinded two more with lightning shots.
Kishan shouted, “Can you keep them off me for a minute, Kells?”
“I think so! Why?”
“I’m going to move the last two eggs!”
“Hurry!”
I experimented and drew back an arrow, infused it with lightning power, and let loose. It hit the bird in the eye and blew its head off. The charred, smoking, headless torso landed with a boom, half on the nest and half dangling over the side. The nest cracked and tilted precariously before settling. The impact shot me into the air as if I’d been on a trampoline, and the momentum dropped me over the edge of the nest. I desperately stretched out to grab the edge as I fell.
Rough branches scraped my skin as I struggled to slow my momentum. Finally successful, I threw my arms over the side, but still slipped. Blood trickled down my arm. Gritting my teeth in pain, I dug my fingers in and rammed my feet between the branches to get a foothold. I tore several fingernails and scratched up my legs and arms, but it was worth it. I didn’t fall to a horrible death. At least, not yet.
Kishan had held on better. He righted himself quickly and headed toward me. “Hold on, Kells!”
Kishan lay on his stomach and stretched out a hand. He grabbed my hands and yanked until I landed on top of him. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
“Good.” He grinned and had just wrapped his arms around me when he saw something overhead. He put a hand behind my head and another around my waist and rolled several times until we bumped against the back of the nest. We ended up with his body sprawled on top of mine.
“Look out!” I screamed.
Two of the birds were leaning in, trying to snap us in half with their metallic beaks. I picked up a broken branch nearby and shoved it into the bird’s eye just before it eviscerated Kishan. Then I hit the other one with lightning.
“Thanks.”
I grinned, feeling proud of my accomplishment. “Anytime.”
The nest shifted. The weight of the dead bird hanging off the edge of the nest was too heavy. The bird was falling and taking the nest with it. Kishan grabbed branches on both sides of my head.
“Hold on!” he shouted.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, and clung to him as the nest tilted several feet into the air and snapped in half. Half of the nest fell with the dead bird and the other half—the half we were in—hung precariously from two almost sheared off limbs. My stomach lurched as the nest and everything around it, including the branches holding us, suddenly dropped three feet and hit with a bone-jarring bang. Three of the eggs fell out of the nest and broke on the branches below. We fell into what was left of the nest before rolling to a stop.
“Where’s the Scarf?” I yelled.
“There!”
The Scarf had blown out of the nest and was draped loosely on a broken limb several feet below. It fluttered in the breeze and would probably blow away at any moment.
“Kells, hurry! Grab my hand. I’ll lower you down so you can reach the Scarf.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure! Go!”
He gripped my arm and lowered me. I couldn’t believe he had the strength to do it, but he wrapped his other arm around a branch and held the weight of both our bodies with one arm. It still wasn’t good enough.
“I’ll have to go lower! Can you hold my leg instead?”
“Yes. Come back up for a minute.”
He grunted and pulled me up, throwing me into the air as if I was a sack of groceries and caught me around the waist as I began to fall. I gasped and grabbed his neck again.
“What do I do?”
“First—” he ducked his head and kissed me hard. “Now wrap your left leg around my waist.”
I gave him a look.
“Just do it!”
I swung back and forth, then managed to hook my leg around his waist. Next, he let go of my waist and grabbed my leg. It was frightening, but I trusted that he was strong enough to hold both of us with only one arm. Compared to this, standing on Ren’s shoulders in Kishkindha was child’s play.
I grimaced, wondering what insane things I’d be expected to do in the next two tasks. I mentally willed the branches holding the nest to support us a little bit longer, just long enough for me to grab the Scarf. Realistically, I expected to hear them snap at any second, causing us to plummet to our deaths.
I let go of Kishan’s neck and slowly turned my body upside down, holding the waistband of his pants, then his leg, and then his foot. I mumbled as he lowered me, “Why couldn’t they pick a girl from Cirque du Soleil to do these tasks? Hanging upside down from a broken branch thousands of feet in the air is just too much to ask from a girl in beginner wushu!”
“Kells?”
“What?”
“Shut up and get the Scarf.”
“I’m working on it!”
I stretched farther and heard Kishan groan. “Just another few inches.”
His grip slipped deliberately from my calf to my ankle, causing me to swing out over the green abyss.
Frightened, I yelled Kishan’s name and closed my eyes for a second, swallowed, and swung my body back toward the Scarf. The wind whipped it off the branch. It swirled in the air and shot past me. I grabbed the tail of it at the last second—hanging upside down, blood pounding in my head, the tips of my fingers desperately grasping the Scarf, with Kishan barely holding on for both of us—and had a vision.
The green canopy dizzily swinging back and forth in front of my eyes faded to white, and I heard a voice.
“Kelsey. Miss Kelsey! Can you hear me?”
“Mr. Kadam? Yes, I can hear you!”
I saw the vague outline of a tent behind him. “I can see your tent!”
“And I can see you and Kishan.”
“What?” I looked behind me and saw a blurred image of Kishan clutching the leg of my upside-down limp body. The Scarf dangled precariously from a hooked finger. I heard him shouting as if from a great distance.
“Kelsey! Hold on!”
The vague outline of another person was coming into view.
Mr. Kadam instructed, “Don’t say anything. Don’t let him provoke you into speaking. Just pay attention to every detail—anything could help us find Ren.”
“Okay.”
Mr. Kadam’s medallion was glowing red. I glanced at mine and saw it was bright red too. When I looked back up, the image of the other person solidified.
Lokesh. He was dressed in a business suit. His dark hair was slicked back, and I noticed that he wore several rings. His medallion was also glowing red and was much larger than ours.
His deceitful eyes glittered when he smiled.
“Ah! I’ve been wondering when I’d see you again.” He spoke politely as if we were getting reacquainted at an afternoon tea party. “You have cost me a great deal in time and resources, my dear.”
I watched him silently and flinched as he appraised me in a disturbing way.
Lokesh spoke quietly, menacingly, “We’ve not the time for the niceties of the game I would prefer, so I’ll be blunt. I want the medallion you’re wearing. You will bring it to me. If you do, I will let your tiger live. If you don’t . . .” He took a knife out of his pocket and tested its sharpness on a thumb. “I will find you, slit your throat . . .” He looked directly into my eyes to conclude his threat, “and take it from your bloody neck.”
Mr. Kadam countered, “Leave the young lady out of this. I will meet you and give you what you want. In exchange, you will let the tiger go free.”
Lokesh turned to Mr. Kadam and smiled unpleasantly. “I do not recognize you, my friend. I am interested to know how you acquired the amulet. If you wish to negotiate, you may contact my business office in Mumbai.”
“And which office would that be, my friend?”
“Find the tallest building in Mumbai; my office is the penthouse.”
Mr. Kadam nodded as Lokesh continued to give instructions. As they talked, I studied the hazy scene that had appeared behind Lokesh. I memorized as many details as I could. A man was speaking to him, but Lokesh paid him no heed.
The servant behind Lokesh had black hair that was swept forward into a bun resting just above the top of his hairline. Across the length of his forehead, he had a line of black tattoos that looked like the Sanskrit words from the prophecy. Bare-chested, the man wore loops of handmade bead necklaces. His ears were pierced in several places with golden hoops. He was also pulling along another man and gestured to him.
The second man stood farther back with his head hanging down. Matted, filthy black hair hung in his face. Bleeding and bruised, he struggled against the hands of the man holding him. The servant yelled and yanked the man forward until he staggered and fell to his knees. Then he slapped him across the face and yanked his shoulders back. As the injured man looked up, his hair fell to the side, and I gazed into piercing cobalt blue eyes.
Overcome with emotion, I took a step forward and shouted, “Ren!”
He didn’t hear me. His head drooped down to his chest. I started crying.
Someone did hear me, though—Lokesh. He narrowed his eyes and whipped around to see what I was looking at. He tried to speak to his servants, but they didn’t hear him. He turned back to me and, for the first time, studied the wispy images behind my shoulder. Everything was already fading. I couldn’t tell if Lokesh recognized Kishan or not. I froze and willed him to see only me.
Lokesh did focus his attention on me. He gestured to Ren and, with false sympathy, clucked his tongue.
“How terribly painful it must be for you to see him like this. You know, between you and me, he screams out for you when I torture him. Unfortunately for him, he’s been quite unforthcoming as to your whereabouts.” He chuckled, “He won’t even tell me your first name, though I already know what it is. It’s Kelsey, isn’t it?”
Lokesh watched my expression carefully waiting for me to give away a clue.
He continued his mocking diatribe. “It’s become something of a sticking point between us. The prince is so tight-lipped he won’t even confirm your given name. I must say I expected as much. He’s always been quite stubborn. More tears? How sad. He can’t hold out forever, you know. The pain alone should have killed him by now.
“Fortunately, his body seems quite resilient.” He watched me out of the corner of his eyes while he cleaned microscopic dirt from under his fingernails. “I have to admit, I’ve quite enjoyed torturing him. It’s the best of both worlds seeing him suffer both as a man and as an animal. The exquisite lengths I can go to are unheard of. He heals so quickly that even I have been unable to test his limits. I assure you, though, I am making every effort.”
I bit my trembling hand to stifle a sob and glanced at Mr. Kadam. He shook his head discreetly, indicating to keep quiet.
Lokesh smiled sardonically. “Perhaps if you would just confirm your name, I might give him a brief . . . reprieve? A simple nod would suffice. It is Kelsey Hayes, is it not?”
Mr. Kadam’s warning raced through my thoughts. It took all my determination, but I kept my eyes focused on Ren. Tears ran down my face, but I didn’t move or even look at Lokesh.
He became angry, “Certainly, if you care for him, you would spare him some pain, ease his anguish? No? Perhaps I was mistaken in your affections. I am relatively sure that I am not mistaken in his. He won’t speak of you at all except to call out in his dreams for his beloved. Or perhaps you are not the one he begs for?” His voice started to fade.
“Ah, well. The two brothers were not always lucky in love, were they? Maybe it is time to put him out of his misery. It seems to me as if I’d be doing him a favor.”
I couldn’t help it. I screamed, “No!”
He raised his eyebrows and spoke again, but his words were too quiet to hear. When the three of us could no longer hear one another, Mr. Kadam turned to me. Lokesh was gesturing with his hands, but I ignored him and focused on Mr. Kadam as he faded to white. I wiped away my tears while he smiled sympathetically and then winked at me just before he disappeared.
I blinked and white turned to green. Blood pounded in my head.
Kishan was yelling at me, “Kelsey! Kelsey! Snap out of it!”
Fortunately, I was still holding the Scarf. I shouted, “Got it! Pull me up, Kishan!”
“Kelsey! Watch out!”
A bird screeched above us. I twisted and saw the gaping black maw of a metallic bird and got an up-close and personal view of its green, verdigris-coated, double-edged scissor beak. I shot a bolt of lightning into its beak, and it took off squawking, smoke trailing from its mouth.
With a mighty grunt, Kishan swung me upright. I grabbed his waist and held on for dear life. He let go of me, trusting I’d have the muscle to cling to him. I wrapped my arms around him, grabbed my wrists to lock my arms at his waist, and clutched the Scarf in my hands. He pulled himself over the edge of the broken nest and helped me over. His arms shook with fatigue.
Kishan sat up and inspected my limbs. “Kells, are you okay? What happened to you?”
“Another vision,” I breathed. “Tell you about it later.”
We ducked as a bird called out nearby. I picked up our backpack and stowed the bow and quiver, which had magically refilled with golden arrows, as well as the Scarf and chakram.
“Okay. Now what?” he said.
“Now we make our escape. Come on.”
We descended until we had sufficient enough cover that the birds could no longer see us. We could still hear them circling the tree and shrieking to each other, but the farther down the tree we went, the quieter the noises became. Soon we couldn’t hear them anymore.
“Kells, stop. We need to rest for a while.”
“Okay.”
The Golden Fruit created something quick to eat and drink, and Kishan insisted on inspecting me for injuries. He seemed fine. His cuts had healed already, but I had some wicked gashes on my arms and legs. I was healing too, but several of my nails were torn and bloody, and I had a long splinter under one that Kishan worked out carefully.
“This will hurt. Splinters and quills are the tiger’s worst enemies.”
“Really? Why do you say that?”
“We rub up against and scratch trees to mark territory, and we sometimes snack on porcupines. A smart tiger attacks it from the front, but occasionally they whirl on you. I’ve had quills stuck in my paws before, and they hurt and fester. They break off as I walk. There’s no way for a tiger to get them out, so I’d have to wait until I could change into a man and pull them all out.”
“Oh! I wondered why Ren was always rubbing against trees in the jungle. Don’t the quills eventually work themselves out though?”
“No. They actually bend into a circle and stay in the skin. They won’t dissolve either. Splinters can, but quills won’t. They can stay in a tiger’s body their whole lives. It’s what makes some become man-eaters. With an impairment like that, they can’t hunt fast prey anymore. I’ve even come across a couple of tigers who had died from starvation because they’d been injured by porcupines.”
“Well, the common sense thing would be not to eat porcupines then.”
Kishan grinned. “But they’re delicious.”
“Ugh.” I sucked in a breath. “Ow!”
“Almost got it. There. It’s out now.”
“Thanks.”
He cleaned the worst of my scrapes with alcohol wipes and then bandaged up what he could.
“I think you’ll heal here quicker than normal, but not as fast as I do. We should rest.”
“We’ll rest when we get down.”
He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Kells, it took us days to get up here. It will take days to get back down.”
“No it won’t. I have a shortcut. When the ravens cleared my mind, I saw what the Scarf could do. We just need to walk out onto a branch.”
I could tell Kishan was wary, but he followed me anyway. We made our way to the edge of a long branch.
“Now what?” he asked.
“Watch.”
I held the Scarf on top of my palms and said, “A two person parachute, please.”
The Scarf twisted, snapped taut and lengthened, and then folded itself over and over. From all four corners, threads pulled out and stretched. They wove and twisted together, forming belts, risers, and ropes. Finally, the Scarf stopped moving. It had become a double-harnessed large backpack.
He stared at it incredulously. “What did you do, Kelsey?”
“You’ll see. Put it on.”
“You said parachute. You think we’re going to parachute out of here?”
“Yep.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Ah, come on. Tigers aren’t afraid of heights, are they?”
“This isn’t about heights. This is about being extremely high up in a tree and hurtling our bodies into oblivion based on a strange fabric that you now claim is a parachute.”
“It is, and it will work.”
“Kelsey.”
“Have faith, like the Ocean Teacher said. The Scarf does other cool stuff too. I’ll tell you about it on the way back. Kishan, trust me.”
“I trust you; I just don’t trust the fabric.”
“Well, I’m going to jump, so are you coming with me or not?”
“Did anyone ever tell you you’re stubborn? Were you this stubborn with Ren?”
“Ren had to deal with stubbornness and sarcasm, so consider yourself lucky.”
“Yeah, but at least he got some kissing for his effort.”
“You got a few kisses yourself.”
“Not voluntary ones.”
“True, you stole them.”
“Stolen kisses are better than none.”
I raised my eyebrow. “Are you just starting an argument with me to chicken out?”
“No. I’m not chickening out. Fine. If you insist on doing this, please explain to me how it works.”
“Easy. We strap ourselves in, jump, clear the tree, and pull the ripcord. At least I hope that’s how it works,” I mumbled softly.
“Kelsey.”
“Don’t worry. It’s the way we’re supposed to get down. I know we’ll make it.”
“Right.”
He strapped himself in while I put our regular backpack on backward against my chest. Then I approached Kishan.
“Umm . . . you’re too tall for me. Maybe I can stand on a taller branch.”
I looked around for something to stand on, but Kishan wrapped his hands around my waist and picked me up. He snuggled me next to his chest while I strapped myself into the other part of the Scarf’s harness.
“Er . . . thanks. Okay, so what you need to do is carry me, run, and leap off the branch. Can you manage that?”
“I’m sure I can handle it,” he responded dryly. “Ready?”
“Yes.”
He squeezed me close.
“One . . . two . . . three!”
Kishan ran five steps and hurled his body into the void.