The Eye of the Tiger
The box sits on the pedestal like a cat ready to spring.
“That’s it,” says Trisha.
“We’ve travelled so far,” Andreia sighs. “Well, I mean, like, from the bar.”
“Far-ish,” nods Christine. “And now we’re here.” She eyes the doorless walls.
Alan lifts an eyebrow. “How do we know it’s the real thing?”
“Tigers on the walls,” Trish lists on her fingers. “Tigers on the box. Dude at the entrance saying, ‘Enter ye the room of the Tiger’s Eye.'”
Andreia points. “Plus it’s right there on the plaque.”
Then they hear it: a jungle growl that rumbles in their hearts.