Secret Heart by David Almond Page B

the heart, his tiger heart, drumming in his chest. He heard the roar that echoed from his throat. He clawed the air. He bared his massive fangs. Memories rushed through his blood, his bones, his flesh, his brain: he ran through hot forest, with deer running before him; he prowled the shadows of ancient trees. Beneath the pelt, beneath that curious tent of skin and striped fur, Joe Maloney danced a tiger dance, was transformed by tigerness, became a tiger.
    He fell to the sawdust floor. His body jerked and trembled. Hackenschmidt lifted the skin away.
    “Joe,” said Corinna. “Joe. Joe.”
    She took his hand, helped him to his feet.
    They stood in the flickering dark, candles and canvas like the whole universe spinning about them. They waited. They waited.
    And they heard it in the ring beside them, the footsteps, the breath. They caught the scent of its breath, its pelt. It circled them. They caught sightof it—its stripes, its glittering eyes—as it moved through the edges of their vision.
    “Tiger!” said Corinna.
    “On the last day,” said Nanty Solo. “On the last of all days…”
    “Go on,” said Hackenschmidt. “Take it out.”
    He went to the door and held the flap of canvas aside. Joe and Corinna went together. They stepped into the glistening night. They moved across the wasteland outside Helmouth, and the tiger padded in their hearts and at their side.

Seventeen
    A full moon had risen over the Black Bone Crags. A perfect ring of light. Stars clustered above the horizons. Cold light fell to the dark green earth over which they walked, Joe, Corinna and the tiger. They headed for the motorway. Sometimes a car's headlights streaked the night there, but they were soon gone, over the northern or the southern horizon. As they walked, they heard noises on the earth and in the air: scratchings, flutterings, short sharp calls and whistles, breath. They heard their own footpads, the swish of grass. At times there was no tiger, but then Joe and Corinna just glanced at each other and walked on, and there it was again, the shimmer of its coat, the glow of its stripes, its breath, its footfall, and its eyes glittering bright as any star. They didn't speak. There were distant yelling and laughter from Helmouth, and Joe thought of his mother there, andher fear, but they didn't turn. They moved through Joe's familiar places, the lanes and ancient paddocks and ruined streets of what had existed long before. At the far edge of the Field of Skulls, they walked through a broken chain-link fence and climbed up the embankment. They stood on the thin grass by the hard shoulder, stood dead still as a car swept past them. They looked left, looked right, and then ran across the first roadway. They leaped the crash barrier, and waited again on the median strip. The tiger stood panting gently. Another car, coming from the north. The great coned beam of its headlights lit them. As it passed, they saw the face of a girl looking out at them, her eyes and mouth wide open as she yelled. The car swerved, slowed, regained its momentum and headed off as quickly as it had come. Joe watched the taillights disappear, imagined the voice of the driver: Nonsense. Silly girl. Grow up. Go back to sleep.
    They ran again to the other side and down the embankment. Through another ripped fence. They climbed through meadowland toward the Silver Forest. Here the grass was knee-high. Blooms of wild-flowers caught the moonlight. The night air was heavy with scents, with pollen. Their breathing deepened as they climbed. They paused, just before the edge of the wood. Joe and Corinna looked at each other in wonder. They looked back towardHelmouth and saw it sparkling. The blue tent softly glowed. The tiger lay in the long grass close by and returned their gaze. Trembling, Joe crouched beside it. He reached out to touch. He laid his hand on the dense fur and felt the tiger's heat, its beating heart. He felt again the beauty and savagery of the tiger in