When the Tiger Came Down the Mountain (The Singing Hills Cycle, #2)

by Nghi Vo

“My eyes are open for always, my mouth is empty for always, and always will my soul reach for yours. In the land of the dead, there are only blackbirds, and I send this one to you, in the hopes that you remember me still. Light me a stick of incense, and so long as it burns, let me sit in the chamber outside your bedroom again. Until it goes out . . .” “Let me stay and be for you,”

She led Scholar Dieu out of the foxes’ grave, bringing her to a soft place under a spreading red pine, and there she took off Dieu’s clothes and shoes because they were of course ruined. After that, she hunted for them a fat piglet and allowed Dieu to singe it as she liked best, taking the best pieces that were her due from her new wife’s pretty fingers.

“I am yours, and so I will be your light and your laughter. I am yours, so open your eyes to look at me, and open your mouth so that I may kiss it. I am yours, I am yours, and nevermore will I leave.”

Together, they ran all the way back to the Boarback Mountains, and for the rest of their nights together, Ho Thi Thao would eat every meal from her wife’s fingers and kiss the scar on her hand before she went on to kiss the rest of her as well. They lived well-fed until they were only bones, and even their bones were happy, turning white and sharp as teeth in the moonlight.