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

by Nghi Vo

The novelty wore off, but the wonder didn’t,

We had always kept our home in the sweetest of silence, broken only with a dropped spool of scarlet thread or a soft cry from your lips early in the morning. Now your departure crashes like a thunder, and the timbers of the house shake with the force of the space you left behind.” They were Dieu’s favorite lines, and she was almost afraid to look up to see how the tiger took them. When you love a thing too much, it is a special kind of pain to show it to others and to see that it is lacking.

They lived well-fed until they were only bones, and even their bones were happy, turning white and sharp as teeth in the moonlight.