Bagheera received the news on a dry, windy day.
Baloo told him, breathlessly, joyfully, even.
The Mancub has killed the Lame Tiger.
Mowgli has killed Shere Khan.
The sloth bear had a mad grin on his face as he dove into detail. "Khan had run to hunt down the mancub in the Man-village. And Mowgli, with the help of Akela, Rama and the other wolves, caused a bull stampede and crushed him. He's getting ready to skin him right now, but he told me to tell you the news first."
Bagheera blinked at him. "I see."
He'd known for a long time this day would come. He just hadn't expected it would be so soon.
Baloo looked at him a moment longer, as if expecting more of a reaction. "Isn't it great? We can finally live in peace! Well, the rest of us." He poked Bagheera teasingly with his paw. "The only thing Shere Khan was afraid of besides Mowgli is you."
All in the jungle fear Bagheera.
Bagheera nodded slowly. "Yes. Yes, I see." He began to walk away.
"Where are you going?"
He turned. "Out."
Without a word, he crept into the shadows.
His mind felt like an angry hive of bees. What was he feeling? Shock? Joy? Grief?
He'd convinced himself he wouldn't grieve for the tiger. The cat he'd known as a cub was not the cat who'd hunted Mowgli, hurt Baloo, dethroned Akela.
Lied to him.
Broke him.
Black paws scuffed the leafy mud. He had always thought he would feel triumph, happiness once Mowgli inevitably triumphed over the tiger. But instead he just felt dull.
Leafy branches and thick brush gave way to wide, grassy fields. Bagheera paused. He'd unwittingly walked to where the Man-village was.
Scenting the air, he caught a whiff of tree sap and honey, mixed with mud and yarrow leaf. Mowgli.
And another, fainter scent- Musky, like a young male deer. A sharp, angry scent, but detached to this world- like it's owner now, Bagheera thought wryly, as he identified the scent as that of the Lame Tiger.
Warily, the black furred panther made his way to where the scent was located. He was careful to tread lightly and quietly so as not to be detected by the Men.
Mowgli was sitting in a wet, muddy ditch, leaning against a proud looking bull. He was sharpening a metal blade- knife, Bagheera recalled- on a stone. The sound of scraping metal was loud and painful to hear.
Next to Mowgli, lying still on the cold ground, was the body of the Lame Tiger.
Bagheera froze when he saw it. Something in him stirred. Disgust? Sadness? He couldn't be sure.
Mowgli, ever alert, perked up when he saw the panther who'd raised him. "Hi, Bagheera. Please don't eat Rama."
Bagheera glanced at the bull, who glared menacingly at him, before scoffing. "I don't steal from men."
He stared down at the empty corpse of the tiger. "So. You finally did the deed."
"Oh yes! You should have seen it!" Mowgli bounced excitedly. "One minute he's alive, the next- bam! Gone."
In the distance, Bagheera heard a muffled bellowing. Mowgli perked up. "Uh oh. I think they are calling me to bring back the cattle. I'll bring them back. Bye, Bagheera!"
