* * *

The slightly cooler water washed over my feet, free from my sneakers and socks - they were lying just above, on the rocky ledge. The surface of the rock warmed my back, the sun smiled from above, and I wrapped my T-shirt around my head and savored an ice cream cone, the eighth in a row. Another ice cream lay in the water, wrapped in a bag, on the other side of a small lake, under a metal pipe with cold water. The tenth ice cream, or rather the second, I gave to Slavka, following our group near the giraffe enclosure.

By the way, the giraffes were the wrong yellow-brown, not red-blue. But in general - tall, yes. While everyone was looking up at them, I snatched up a comrade, told him what to give to Tolik, and solemnly handed over his share. And for what happened next - I am not responsible at all! Although I could have guessed and warned, to be honest. I had wisely hidden the bag with the other eight pieces a dozen paces away, and I was worried that no one would find the stash at that moment.

Anyway, Slava returned to the group with ice cream in his hand. Have you seen how a pack of dogs surrounds a cat? How do they stare at their rightful prey with hungry eyes, spreading out in a semi-circle and cutting off escape routes? How do they slowly approach with a low growl, tilting their heads slightly?

"Slava, Slava, Slava," the pack hissed, "give us a bite, give us a taste, give us a lick. We are a little. We are a little. You are our friend. You are our brother."

Slava didn't answer. He tried to cram the whole ice cream in his mouth. It wasn't working very well. Realizing this, Slava did the ultimate cat trick - he climbed a tree. Now the giraffes were looking up with interest.

"Slava, get down immediately!" The teacher was worried.

"We'll help, we'll save," smiled the pack and climbed the tree too.

The bumps and small branches flew from above, and Slava was clearly aiming to jump the other side of the fence. Then a big man came and demanded that the mess stop, threatening to kick everyone out and not let them in again. We had to go down - especially since Slava had already finished his ice cream to the point where it could be put into his mouth completely.

Anyway, I hurriedly left the secret post under the pine tree and turned onto another path. Soon Slavik would chew the contents of his mouth and be able to talk, and the question "where did you get it" had already been repeated ten times. We are friends, of course, and he is unlikely to give me away, but it is better to be away at this point.

Then some idiot in purple jumped out at me shouting, "Gotcha"! For some reason, I thought he wanted to steal the ice cream.

"What for?" He asked me resentfully, pressing his hand to his left eye. "I just wanted to talk!"

That was awkward.

"I'm sorry," I said penitently to the body lying on the path.

And as an apology, I put a circle of the label on his lips with a decent piece of ice cream. I ripped it from my heart.

"Here, eat. Eat, eat, eat, don't be shy!" I offered with a sincere smile.

The boy mechanically moved his mouth and ate the whole thing. They're wild, these purple ones. Ours would never eat paper. The scented toilet paper has weaned everybody off it. That's a wicked thing. It gives me the creeps when I think of it.

I patted him on the shoulder and walked on, turning my head around with interest until I noticed a small gate between the bushes at another crossing of the paths. It was metal and covered with wire, and it threateningly said in red paint "Do Not Enter!", and just below that "DANGER!", and just below that "Staff Only!". If there had been a fourth line with the same tempting text I would have definitely broken the ban and entered. As it was, I just climbed over the fence to the right.

Behind the fence was a steep path up, with small ledges on which I managed to put my feet, and in some places I had to help myself with my hands, taking a packet in my teeth. After about forty steps, there was a ladder that led even higher up, and it turned out that there was a real rock lurking behind the bushes and trees in the park! I quickly climbed up, finding myself on a flat top the size of my two rooms. There was a pond in the middle, touching the far end of the cliff with one edge. Where I climbed up was the very pipe from which cold water flowed, filling a depression in the rock. Further on, the water warmed up and fell three meters down in a veritable waterfall, flowing into another lake, with a tiger family on one of its banks. A little further away was also a grid of fences, with people behind them.

The sun was shining behind me, so I didn't think anyone could see me, but I could see much of the park. I didn't like what I saw, either; there were figures in purple running around, obviously looking for someone. My intuition told me (I ate half of the ice cream in three bites) that it was me.

I shrugged after a moment's thought - let them look for it. I tasted the water at different ends of the pond with my finger, found it wonderful for me (at the tiger's end) and for ice cream (under the chimney), and enjoyed skimming off the ice cream layer by layer, savoring and enjoying it. A little later, the idea of sunbathing came to mind - I would have even gone for a swim, but the pond turned out to be very shallow.

After a while, the world seemed beautiful and glorious, and even the ice cream was gone (yes, it turns out that can happen too). The light breeze was blowing over my sun-warmed body, the water caressed my feet, and the gracefully walking tigers pacified my sight. The mood was so good I wanted to share the joy with the whole world. I even wanted to give the last remaining ice cream!

I stood upright and looked for Slavka, who, if I understood correctly, should be limping and lagging behind the group, so it would be safe to attract his attention. But there was no Slavka. But near the grating of the enclosure, that girl was found. She was turning her head, her hair rising beautifully in waves; she, too, was intensely searching for someone. Even if it was me - strange hide-and-seek, by the way, but there was something about it - the peace of mind suggested the noble idea of giving in. Just a T-shirt to put on.

"Hey!" I shouted, waving my hand. "Woman!"

She twirled her head even more vigorously, clearly recognizing the voice but not seeing me yet.

"I'm right here!"

Oh, I think she noticed!

"Go around to the side. There's a gate," I gestured in her direction, pleased that she had understood correctly, and backed away from the edge.

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After about six minutes there was a panting sound downstairs, and after another minute the stairs rattled, sounding the light footsteps of a visitor.

I had already got the ice cream out, put on my sneakers, and was looking thoughtfully at the tigers (because the more I looked at the ice cream, the more I didn't want to give it to anyone).

Almost immediately a hand appeared above the stairs, and a moment later, the visitor popped to the surface and came toward me. There was something tiger-like about her-perhaps her gaze and her gait. Her hair was especially pretty, lit up by the sun - the shine of tigers goes in waves like that when they move. Anyway, when she was one step away from me, I decided to give her an ice cream.

"Here, help yourself," I handed her the last remaining treat with a smile.

That's how good I am!

The guest stretched her lips in a wicked smile and knocked the ice cream out of her hands with a sharp movement.

The sound disappeared, and time seemed to slow down - the wafer cup barely rose upwards, then froze, stopped over the precipice... and plummeted down, straight to the tigers.

My heart ached with the pain of separation and longing, my fingernails dug into my palms, and the world shook. The sun no longer shone so brightly, and a cold wind blew into my chest, taking away all the warmth of the day.

"Run," I exhaled, closing my eyes.

"Apologise n...!"

There probably should have been the word 'now' in there, but it's very difficult to speak with your hand over your lips and your fingers squeezing your jaw hard if you move.

All the dashing ardor in her eyes was instantly replaced by amazement and consternation.

"An invited guest is untouchable as long as he behaves like a guest."

The sounds itselves gathered into words I had never heard but sincerely thought were right. I pronounced with as much confidence as they say that the sun rises in the east, like a law - as unbreakable as an afternoon snack at seventeen in the evening.

"You're one step away from being a guest."

I slowly withdrew my hand. The girl sharply stepped back, wiping her face away with the sleeve of her shirt.

"You've completely lost your mind!" was shouted at me with indignation.

I looked bitterly at the white dot in the grass at the foot of the cliff. Who's to say...

"How dare you!"

"Give you an ice cream?"

"Raise your hand to me!"

"Woman, I tortured a man for that ice cream for three months," I reminded her and returned her cold smile. "Don't test my patience and just go away."

"I'm not leaving," she still stubbornly said, but now she looked wary, "not until you apologize."

"What for?" I genuinely wondered. "For wanting to share my happiness with you?"

"Well, no," she said embarrassedly, "for what you did at the ice cream stall."

"What did I do?" I raised an eyebrow.

"You held the queue. Five minutes!"

"I've been dreaming of ice cream for nine years. I escaped for it from a place where no one has ever escaped! The friend who had my back was probably dying!" Now my voice was rising to the level of thunder. "Can I spend five minutes on this choice or not!"

"I'm sorry... It's just that my teacher said you should apologize." The girl lowered her eyes and fiddled with the tip of her shoe on the stone.

"Is that why you threw away the ice cream?" I marveled.

"You should have cried, and I would have promised to buy a new one if you apologized," she whispered quite quietly.

I ran my palm across my face with force. Uncle Sergei was right to say, rubbing the bruise on his cheekbone: you never know what these women have in mind.

"Just go ahead and talk about your parents and get lost."

"Аh?" She looked up in surprise.

"Well, this one: Do you know who my father is?"

"What does this have to do with my dad?"

"Maybe he is a decent and respectable man, for whose sake you can be forgiven."

The girl twitched as if struck. And I moved forward, forcing my guest to shift towards the stairs.

"Look, I... was wrong. I'm sorry, honestly. I didn't know," she fumed. "It's a teacher's assignment. It's how they teach us to take away everything and give hope for the best."

"Now I have nothing. Is it working?"

"Oh, you and your ice cream! Let me buy you a new one!"

"Why me? It's your ice cream."

"Then I'll buy one for myself!"

"It won't work. There is only one ice cream in the world that I gave you. There won't be another." I led the girl to the stairs, pointed down, and turned my back on her.

"Wait a minute! Here, hold this." A paper piece was poked into my hand, and then a rectangle was attempted to be placed in my palm.

I didn't take it and just staggered back to the edge of the cliff.

"Then I'll put it in your pocket," she said, and then she did it. "I'm sorry, huh?"

"Accept my gift," I nodded down at the grass, "then I'll forgive you."

"But there are tigers!"

"You're afraid of tigers, but you're not afraid of me?" I looked at her in amazement.

"But you were joking... you know, about torture and run?" She timidly clarified in response."

I shook my head. I tried on the ledge - there was a rather gentle slope down to the left - and in one motion, I jumped down, slipping on the heels of my sneakers and securing myself with my hands, shrouded in the gift.

"Where are you going? There are tigers!" shrieked a maiden shout behind me.

"The emperor wouldn't hurt a tiger," I grumbled, shaking off my shorts.

I turned my head and looked at the cliff - there was no one there. She had gone.

The girl ran through the park, panicking at the people in her path, peering into the faces of passers-by with only one thought - who can help? She had already shouted for help - three times. But the park took away all the sound, replaced the cry for help with the howl of a wild animal, and hid it in the canopy of trees. Then she decided to seek help herself - just to avoid standing there, helplessly aware that a man was dying because of her stupidity.

Unfortunately, not a single policeman or zookeeper! And the men she did come across did not look at all like heroes who could protect the strange boy from the tigers. But here was a glimpse of the familiar color of the ceremonial uniform at the very entrance - genuinely disliked by her and all the students, accustomed since childhood to inconspicuous but obligatory for going out in public. Their group! And the teacher! The girl rushed forward as if by sheer force of will, not with her muscles, shortening the distance between the group with her tutor.

"Help! There are tigers out there... they eat!" The girl hung onto the teacher's arm, pulling him towards the park.

"Whom?"

"That boy, I found him! Hurry up!" she hurried her tutor.

"Orphanage?" The teacher clarified, not wanting to budge.

"Yes!"

"Nika Sergeyevna, look to your right," the man said with a slightly ironic gesture, "you should have no trouble spotting the yellow bus pulling away from the gate.

"Who cares! Tigers!" the girl was angry, already dragging the teacher forcefully in the right direction.

"The thing is, all the orphans have just left on this bus. Which means the boy you allegedly found."

"Dimitri Nikolaevich! I demand that you follow me!" Nika hissed through her teeth.

"Come on, why not," the teacher snickered, quickening his pace.

"Come on, hurry up!"

"Nika, I understand: losing is boring. But if you failed, have the strength to admit it. There's no reason at all to pretend you found him and then he was dragged away by the tigers. That's childish, unworthy of your eleven years."

"I'm not imagining things! You'll see! If he's still alive...!"

"I have no doubt that the tigers have already eaten him whole," he replied sarcastically to her.

But still, Dimitri Nikolayevich went on a run - simply because the pupil dropped his arm and ran ahead on her own, not looking back or caring if the teacher could keep up with her.

Soon they reached the right cage.

Silence, sun bunnies on the lake, a family of tigers lounging imposingly. And not a trace of the boy.

"But he was here!"

"Plus thirty laps, Yeremeeva," the master-teacher swayed on his heels and leisurely walked back, with the gait of a man confident in his rightness. He protected the group of boarders with the Mirror Sphere to shield them from the foolishness and intemperance of the students. He himself escorted them to the bus, making sure that the number of torn tickets in the hands of their mentor was the same as the number of children.

Their lesson was not about violence. Who would keep a sadist in a lyceum? But the ability to admit defeat. The result was... alarming. Some lied outright, some made up stories, like Nika, and some even managed to bruise their foreheads and blacken their eyes, pinning the blame on the elusive boy. These results should have been seriously dealt with, and the failure itself used as motivation for training.

"Where is he?" Pressing her forehead against the bars, the girl asked.

The tigers yawned in synchrony in response. Even the one with the label on his forehead.

* * *

Chapter 11

On the other side of the fence