One day in our tribe, a child fell ill with an unexplained sickness. Several healers and I had tried to cure it using our traditional remedies, but nothing worked. Then I remembered our old shaman telling us of a rare herb deep in the jungle—a plant with a bright red flower that could cure any illness. Determined, I ventured out to find it.
The jungle was alive that morning, buzzing with life. I saw Tasa, my cat, leaping about, chasing a lizard. Knowing the journey would be challenging, I decided to bring her along for company. I packed my bag with some food, a small pouch of herbs, my bow, and a knife. Tasa purred at my feet, clearly aware of the food in my pack.
“We’ve got a long walk ahead, Tasa,” I told her, scratching behind her ears. With that, we began our trek southward. The path wound through towering trees and thick vines. Tasa padded beside me, her bright fur a comforting contrast against the dense green of the jungle.
After hours of walking, my legs ached, and my spirit felt heavy. I found a fallen log, sat down, and lit a joint, letting the smoke curl upward like a prayer to the spirits. But the spirits, it seemed, had other plans.
From the underbrush, a crocodile emerged—massive, its eyes gleaming like black fire. To my shock, it stood on its hind legs, crossed its arms, and looked straight at me. I blinked, unsure if the smoke was playing tricks on me. Tasa merely purred, rubbing against my leg as if nothing was amiss.
“You trespass on sacred ground, shaman,” the crocodile hissed. “Answer my riddle, or your journey ends here.”
My heart pounded, but I couldn’t turn back. The herb was too important. “Speak your riddle, spirit,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady.
The crocodile bared its teeth. “I am not alive, yet I grow. I have no lungs, but I need air. What am I?”
I froze, my mind racing. Then, to my utter disbelief, Tasa sat up, stretched, and said, “Whisper, think of what burns but isn’t alive.”.. I gawked at her. “You can talk?” Tasa licked her paw nonchalantly. “Of course I can. Now focus.”
“Fire!” I blurted out. “The answer is fire!”
The crocodile snarled but slithered back into the shadows, defeated. My knees felt weak, but I couldn’t stop now. Tasa trotted ahead as if nothing unusual had happened, occasionally swatting at passing insects.
Later, hunger gnawed at me, so I stopped by a stream, ate some bread, and drank the cold, clear water. I shared a piece of fish with Tasa, then lit another joint. The smoke calmed my nerves, but suddenly, the air shimmered, and a flying jaguar descended from the treetops. Its enormous wings, made of feathers so dark they seemed to swallow light, stretched wide.
“Shaman,” it growled, “to continue your journey, you must solve this riddle. Fail, and I will devour you.”… It leaned closer, its golden eyes piercing. “I speak without a mouth and hear without ears. I have no body, but I come alive with wind. What am I?”
Once again, I looked at Tasa for help. She yawned. “Speak, wind, hear… It’s obvious.”
I stared at her, exasperated. “You’re awfully calm for a talking cat.”… “And you’re awfully slow for a shaman,” she retorted.
“An echo!” I said suddenly. “The answer is an echo!”
The jaguar roared in frustration, then soared back into the treetops. My relief was short-lived. By the time I found the herb, the sun was setting, and my body ached. The red flower glowed in the dim light, swaying in an otherworldly breeze. I carefully tucked it into my bag, but just as I turned to leave, the ground trembled.
A large, dancing snake appeared, its scales glittering like jewels. It laughed, its voice like a hissing wind. “One final riddle, shaman. Fail, and you’ll never leave this place!” My voice trembled. “Go on, then.”
The snake swayed, its gaze unblinking. “I’m always running, but I have no legs. I’m often heard, but I have no voice. What am I?”
Desperate, I looked at Tasa. She flicked her tail lazily and said with the calmness of a cat, “What did you drink at the stream?” – “Water!” I exclaimed. “The answer is water!”
The snake hissed angrily and lunged at Tasa, but before it could reach her, it dissolved into mist. Tasa, unbothered, resumed chasing a butterfly. I shook my head, muttering, “If I had nine lives, maybe I’d be that calm too.”
Herb in hand, I hurried back to the village. Just as we reached the edge of the forest, three monkeys blocked the path. Frustrated and exhausted, I waved my arms at them. “Stupid jungle spirits! I solved your riddles! Leave me alone!”
I turned to Tasa, who was busy chasing a bug, and shouted, “Why won’t they leave us alone, Tasa?” Then, I heard snickering. Looking up, I saw Catten and the elders standing nearby, staring at me with puzzled expressions.
Realizing I’d just yelled at three ordinary monkeys, my face burned with embarrassment. I quickly pulled the herb from my bag and held it high. “I found the herb!” I exclaimed.
The elders exchanged skeptical glances but said nothing. I rushed to the healer’s tent, prepared the medicine, and watched as the child’s health improved. No one ever mentioned my outburst—at least not to my face.
Now, when I sit with Tasa on my lap, I often tell her my secrets or recount my day. She never speaks back, but sometimes I catch her flicking her tail or tilting her ears in just the right way, just to let me know that she still understands every word I say.