Jackson followed the tiger through the forest, his face scraped by dry branches, leaving small crimson crescent-shaped marks on his skin, which were stung by the sweat dripping down. As the sun tilted westward, he saw the village at the foot of the mountain through the gaps in the thick canopy.

The tiger brought him to a slope not far from the edge of the village, where it could go no further. Beyond this ridge was the village.

Jackson thanked the tiger in a low ...