Eliot Pattison - Soul of the Fire

Sung studied the Tibetans now climbing into the old trucks, then turned to Shan. “Do I say thank you?” he hesitantly asked.

“Perhaps just good-bye.”

The major nodded and stiffly extended his hand, which Shan accepted. He turned and saluted Tan, then without another word drove away.

Several of the Tibetans came forward to express their gratitude to Shan. A few thanked Tan, who murmured awkward acknowledgment. The old man in the shepherd’s vest shook Tan’s hand vigorously, uttering a prayer in Tibetan as he did so.

As the trucks pulled away, the Tibetans in the back broke out in song. When Shan turned to Tan, the colonel was looking into his palm with a puzzled expression. The old shepherd had left a tsa tsa in his hand.

Amah Jiejie settled the dog into the car and turned to Shan expectantly. He looked uncertainly from her to the colonel. “We must go now, Xiao Shan,” she said, gesturing him into the car. “The colonel made a phone call to the prison. No more solitary confinement for your son.” She looked at her watch. “Arrangements have been made. If we hurry, you will have dinner with him tonight.”