Phoenix wandered over to the stacked boxes and lifted a flap to see dry straw packing the top.
“Hmm.”
Her slight hum had him pivoting. “Did you find something?”
“Maybe. This missive is a thank-you.” She frowned. “Let me see if I can translate it into English for you. Um, ‘your warning about the hunters proved timely. We kept the children confined until they left.’ Then it goes on to discuss how the supplies sent were much appreciated.”
“Do you think the letter writer was a shifter?” Phoenix couldn’t contain his excitement.
“Could be. Or we’re reading what we want to in the words.”
“What about the other letters?”
Nadirah scanned two before tapping a third. “In this one, there’s mention about a granddaughter that might not carry the blood and asks if they know of a family that can foster.”
Phoenix frowned. “Sounds as if it’s saying those who can’t change are kicked out. That seems kind of cruel.”
“Or it’s about protection. If these are indeed from a harimau, and they live in hiding, then it could be they wished to offer the child a life outside their ambush.”
“Ambush?” He questioned.
“Don’t tell me you don’t know what they call a group of tigers?”
He couldn’t help a sheepish grin. “Guess I’ve still got lots to learn. Anything else that stands out in the letters?”
She shook her head. “Most of it is just a banal exchange, talking about the weather, a sporting event they were excited about.”
“What about this?” He pointed to a scroll with intricate lettering woven with vines and flowers.
“That seems to have been written by someone else. Notice how the letters are shaped differently.”
“Can you read what it says?”
Her brow furrowed. “Yes and no. Parts of it are unclear. Judging by the style and placement of the words, it seems to be a poem. Let me see if I can translate it.” She pursed her lips. “The winding trail past what I think is ridge, under the boughs of the…” She shook her head. “I assume it’s a type of tree, but I couldn’t tell you what kind, as I’ve never seen that word before. Across the raging rapids where sharp teeth bite. Into the mouth of darkness, watch for the legs and threads that bind?” Her nose scrunched. “That’s obviously not right. Then it’s beware the hills of biting fire before you enter the forest of death for the unwelcome. Beware the vines that squeeze for they hunger for your death.”
“Is that it?”
Her brow creased. “The rest of it is too smudged. Sorry.”
“Almost sounds like clues to a location.”
“Not very good ones, or the harimau hidden village would have been found by now,” Nadirah pointed out.
“This poem is obviously not widely known, though.”
“True.” She stared at the faded paper for a second before getting out her phone and snapping a picture.
Phoenix meanwhile wandered to the next table, which held an eclectic display. Teeth, big ones. A striped rope that reminded him of a tiger’s tail. Wait… He grabbed it and grimaced. It was a tail that someone had preserved. Nothing brought about a light bulb moment, and he sighed. “Guess that’s it, then.”
“Not quite. We haven’t peeked inside those boxes. Maybe we’ll get lucky and one of them will hold a map.”
Alas, they didn’t find a clue, just junk that wasn’t related at all to any of the tiger paraphernalia on the tables.
“Looks like we’re done here.” Phoenix struggled to hold in his disappointment. He’d been skeptical before coming to the museum, and it turned out his initial impulse had been correct. He wouldn’t find the tiger shifters in Malaysia easily—if at all. Although, he did find a little bit of solace in the fact that at least they seemed to exist.
“This is interesting,” murmured Nadirah, pulling forth a carved box that seemed to have no seams.
“Interesting how?”
