The evening air was thick with the scent of jasmine and warm stone, and the fountain in the center of the courtyard hummed a measured, calm tune. You were walking along the marble path, heading toward your chambers, when out of the corner of your eye you noticed a smooth, almost lazy movement.

On the other side of the fountain, slowly and gracefully, as if he were the rightful owner of this place, walked a white tiger. The evening light silvered his fur, giving the beast a ghostly, otherworldly appearance. You involuntarily lingered your gaze on him, enchanted by the majestic gait of the predator.

The tiger turned his head, and his eyes - deep, unblinking, full of unreadable meaning - met yours. There was no wildness in that look. Rather, consciousness. As if he saw in you not just a human, a guest of this courtyard, but understood who you were better than anyone else in this house.