Myths and Legends - Beastkin Ch. 04

Chapter 4

Three miles northeast of the village of Kole, Africa

A Cave in the Congolese Jungle

The next morning, Jake was the first to stir. The cave was still cloaked in a thick impenetrable darkness, heavy and muffled like a wool blanket thrown over the world. His muscles ached faintly as he stretched, working the stiffness from his limbs. Somewhere behind him, a hand slid lazily along his calf and closed around his ankle in a gentle attempt to keep him in bed, but he gave the fingers a soft squeeze and eased free.

His bare feet padded over cold stone as he groped for the rumpled pile of clothing he had abandoned the night before. The women had dragged him to their bedrolls with such single-minded determination that there hadn't been much thought given to where anything had landed. He tugged on enough to be decent, then clicked on his flashlight to banish the oppressive blackness.

In the center of the cavern, their fire pit was nothing but a faint glow and a whisper of smoke. Jake crouched, coaxed a small flame back to life, and fed it until the fire began crackling again. The air warmed just enough to take the bite out of the morning chill.

Outside, the jungle was waking in low murmurs and distant cries. Jake stepped into the early light to answer nature's call, the warm air prickling along his bare arms where the cool of the cave lingered. When he was finished, he went straight to the nearest tree, climbing with practiced ease until he reached the familiar high perch where he always left his offering for the elusive monkey girl.

A strip of cooked meat was placed in its usual spot. No sign of her, as always. He didn't linger.

Dropping back to the jungle floor, he started toward the cave -- and froze.

Leaning against the rocks beside the entrance was a spear.

It wasn't like any spear he'd seen before. The shaft was carved from a length of gnarled wood about as thick as two fingers, stripped of bark but still holding the pale sheen of freshly cut timber. Moisture clung faintly to it, as though the wood had been green when taken. The butt end was ragged, not severed cleanly -- it looked chewed through rather than cut.

The point was just as crude, sharp enough in the right hands but still fibrous and rough. Teeth marks marred the surface, the kind left by someone with no access to blades but plenty of determination. It was shorter than a standard spear, better suited for an atlatl than for throwing outright.

Jake turned it in his hands, testing the weight and flex. It didn't match the hunting weapons he'd seen in his vision of the men pursuing the beast women. Which meant it almost certainly hadn't come from them.

The monkey girl, then. She must have fashioned it herself -- a simple, primal attempt to arm herself in a world where even the trees seemed to want to kill you.

Carrying the spear inside, Jake found the women gathered around the rekindled fire, the rich, oily smell of crocodile meat drifting through the cave.

"Is it still good?" he asked, tilting his chin toward the sizzling chunks.

"Barely," Xada said without looking up from her work. "Keeping it near the hole in the floor helps. The air down there's cold enough to hold the rot back for a while, but not forever."

"Guess that means we're hunting again soon," Jake said.

"I will go today," Sestia offered without hesitation.

"Good. Take Len with you," Jake told her. "I don't expect anything to be able to give you trouble, but I want one of you able to run for help if it finds you regardless."

The two warriors exchanged a nod.

"And you two?" Jake asked, looking at Xada and Tatiana.

"Exploring the cavern below," Xada replied. "Since I'm the smallest, I get to squeeze through the fun spots. I started mapping it yesterday while you were enjoying your ice bath." Her lips curved in a sly grin. "Nice shrinkage, by the way."

Jake ignored the jab with a practiced roll of his eyes.

"It's a mess down there," she went on. "No open floor space -- just a jagged forest of stalagmites and stalactites that've been growing unchecked for centuries. You can get to an underground river, though. Probably the same source feeding the cold spring outside. With enough rope and anchor points, we could hang meat there. Instant refrigerator."

"No safe way down yet?"

"For us? Probably fine. For anyone else? Not unless they want to end up skewered like croc kabobs." She shrugged. "I'm going to try bouncing between the bigger stalagmites to reach the far walls. Maybe there's a ledge or a stable point we can start from, then clear the worst of the spikes. Stalactites too, if they're hanging too low."

Jake nodded slowly. "Alright. Just... don't get reckless. We've all got superhuman strength reflexes now, but that's no excuse to tempt fate. If the place only works as a meat locker for now, I'll take it."

"We will be here that long?" Tatiana asked, her tone more curious than concerned.

"I don't expect to be," Jake said. "She's getting bolder." He lifted the crude spear in his hand as proof.

"I was wondering what that was for," Lenore said, leaning forward to study it.

"It looks like a poor excuse for a spear," Sestia scoffed, arching one brow. "Little better than a toothpick."

"It's the thought that counts," Jake told her lightly. "She probably saw that we weren't carrying weapons and decided we might need something to defend ourselves. Her way of showing appreciation for the food and other gifts. I'm sure she has no idea we're more than capable of handling ourselves."

Sestia didn't look convinced, but she took the spear when he offered it.

"Do me a favor," Jake said. "Try to kill something with it. Whatever you bring back, make sure it's got a hole or two in it -- and make sure there's blood on the spear."

Sestia opened her mouth to protest, but Jake lifted his hands to stop her. "I know it's not strong enough to kill anything. Odds are it'll bend or break if you jab it too hard. And no, I'm not saying you need it. But if she sees evidence that we're using her gift... she might take that as a sign we appreciate it."

Sestia's brow furrowed. "Why does that matter?"

"Because if she believes we value what she gives us, it's one more step toward her realizing we're not here to hurt her."

Xada tilted her head. "Jake? I meant to ask... what's the plan for when she does trust us?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well..." Xada hesitated. "Are we taking her home with us? Or...?"

"Yes," Jake said without hesitation. "That's the plan. For both of them."

"And if they refuse?"

"Then we explain the situation, offer them to..." He trailed off, looking faintly uncomfortable.

"Offer them to fock?" Tatiana said with a wicked grin.

Jake winced. "Yeah... I mean, I won't force them to come with us. But if they want to..."

"Fock," Tatiana supplied again.

"... then, yeah. They'll be harder to kill from that point on."

"Obviously," Xada said with mock solemnity. "So basically, you just want to find 'em, fuck 'em, and leave them here?"

"Do you have to phrase it like that?" Jake asked, clearly trying not to cringe.

"Uh-huh," Xada said, while the others giggled at his discomfort.

"No," Jake insisted. "I want them to come with us. I want to give them a real home -- one they've probably never had in their entire lives. But I'm not going to make them do anything they don't want to do. Same as I didn't with any of you."

"We know, Dikos Mou," Sestia said warmly, leaning in to kiss him before heading toward the cave mouth.

"We are just..." Lenore searched for the right phrase. "How did you put it? 'Giving you a hard time'?" She kissed him as well before following Sestia.

"Busting your balls," Xada corrected with a grin.

"I would not bust your balls, my king," Tatiana purred, a playful glint in her eyes. "I like them just the way they are."

"Well... thank you," Jake said with an awkward smile.

"So what will you be doing while we're off handling our chores, my king?" Xada asked, batting her lashes in exaggerated fashion.

"Scouting," Jake replied. "I want to take a look at the camp Tatiana found. Don't worry," he added quickly when he saw Xada and Tatiana exchange uneasy glances. "I'm going to take a page from the monkey girl's book and spy from the trees. They'll have a much harder time spotting me that way."

~ ~ ~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~ ~ ~

Jake moved like a shadow through the canopy, swinging from branch to branch. He didn't know the exact position of the camp Tatiana had discovered, but he had a good enough sense of direction to make the trip without risking the ground. Staying high kept him out of sight and let him listen for the telltale sounds of a bustling camp.

It didn't take long. Soon, the murmur of voices, the clink of metal, and the faint crackle of a fire reached his ears. He slowed, careful not to snap a twig or rustle a leaf too loudly, and worked his way toward the sound until the trees thinned just enough for him to see.

The camp lay in a small, egg-shaped clearing, neat but utilitarian. At its farthest point sat a large central tent--most likely the leader's quarters and command post. Six smaller two-man tents lined the clearing's edges in two neat rows of three, one row on each side of the main tent. At the lower, wider end of the clearing stood a communal area: a wide fire pit circled by cut logs serving as benches, a place for the men to eat, talk, and plan.

From his perch in the thick boughs above, Jake had a clear line of sight while staying buried in shadow. All day he watched the slow rhythm of camp life. Men came and went in pairs or small groups, their clothing simple and practical--cotton shirts, worn trousers, sturdy boots. Most looked like locals, their movements confident in the jungle's embrace.

Nothing out of the ordinary... until late afternoon.

That was when Jake saw him.

The man emerged from the central tent with the kind of presence that sucked the air out of the clearing. Massive didn't begin to cover it--taller than Jake's six-foot-four and thick as a baobab trunk. His skin was the deep black of midnight, stretched over muscle that looked as if it had been hewn from living stone. His eyes held a hard, calculating gleam, and his mouth seemed carved into a permanent sneer, as if the entire world fell short of his standards.

Where the others wore shirts and trousers, he wore nothing but a grass skirt, his chest and arms bare and glistening in the dying light. Primitive by choice, Jake thought--an intimidation tactic, the image of a man who didn't just command respect but demanded it.

Toro, Jake dubbed him. A bull in every sense of the word.

Jake doubted he could beat the man in a fight if he weren't already blessed by the Amazonian gods.

Toro stomped toward the fire pit where his men had already gathered. Jake counted ten in all, not including the leader. They stood in a loose approximation of attention, straightening a little more as their boss closed in.

"Report!" Toro barked in a thick African accent. The single word cracked like a whip, and his subordinates flinched as one. Why he spoke English was anyone's guess, but Jake wasn't about to complain.

A wiry man with a high, squeaky voice hurried to speak. "Boss, the pale ones remain near the cave. Two women went hunting today. The man disappeared into the trees this morning. He has not returned."

"Where is Jobu?" Toro asked, folding his thick arms across his massive chest.

"Watching the cave," the man replied quickly.

Toro grunted his approval. "And the prey? Have you found them yet?"

Another man answered, his voice trembling. "No, boss, but we found where they disappeared." He added the last part quickly, as though hoping it might save him from punishment. "They split up. We tracked one deep into the jungle but... could not find the other."

"That means it is still nearby," Toro growled. "Find it--or you will be lost in the Congo!"

He turned to leave, but another man blurted, "Boss! Wait!"

"What is it?" Toro snapped.

The man swallowed hard. "Eh, the... prey are beasts, yes? The one in the jungle left cat-like footprints--only two legs. Mostly feline, but also human. We think the other is a monkey. It stays to the trees. That is why we haven't found it. We stay on the ground."

"Then get to the trees!" the big man roared. "Whatever it takes, find it!"

"My cousin, boss!" the man rushed on before Toro could walk away again. "He can climb and run through the trees like a baboon. He lives in Kisangani. If you let me bring him, we will find the prey faster!"

Toro stood still for a long, heavy moment, weighing the idea. Finally, he gave a short nod and turned toward his tent without another word.

~ ~ ~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~ ~ ~

Jake watched as the meeting below broke apart, the men scattering to their assigned duties. After another half hour of uneventful observation, he decided to call it a day. He'd learned what he expected--maybe a little more--but not enough to warrant staying any longer. He shifted his weight, ready to slip away, when a whisper from just behind his shoulder nearly made him fall from the branch.

"Big man is no boss-boss."

Jake froze. Slowly, he turned his head toward the sound.

A face peered at him from behind the thick trunk of the tree he leaned against -- only half visible, her wide eyes fixed on him. But what struck him wasn't just her gaze. A faint, otherworldly radiance clung to her form, tracing the lines of her hair and cheek like moonlight caught in water. It was the same kind of glow he'd seen the first time he'd seen Xada after his transformation -- a shimmer that whispered of something not entirely of this world.

The next thing he noticed were her ears: slightly oversized, furred at the edges. Fine, beige down dusted her cheek, catching the stray beams of fading light. Tangled wisps of dirty cream-colored hair framed one wide, unblinking eye--gray so dark it was almost black--watching him with a mix of curiosity and wariness.

Jake let a slow smile spread across his face. "Hi," he said softly, careful to keep his tone gentle and low. "I'm Jake. What's your name?" He didn't so much as twitch toward her, not wanting to send her bolting.

For a heartbeat, she was gone. He almost thought he'd imagined her--then her face edged back into view.

"Ki-ki," she whispered.

"That's a beautiful name, Ki-ki," Jake murmured, warmth in his voice. "You said the big man isn't the boss?"

She nodded once. "He boss-boss... but not big boss-boss."

Jake kept his tone slow, coaxing. "Then who is?"

Her dark gaze flicked toward the camp. "All man skin black-black." One hand crept into view, resting against the trunk as though she might spring away at any moment. The same fine fur covered her fingers. "Big boss-boss skin white-white."

Jake's brows knit. "You've seen him? He's here?"

Ki-ki nodded again and pointed toward the largest tent without loosening her grip on the tree. "In cloth hut-hut."

"Thank you, Ki-ki. And... thank you for the spear," he said, sincerity softening his voice. "But it's too dangerous for you to be this close to their camp. I don't want you to get hurt. Can you go back to your tree?"

Fear shimmered in her eyes now, making them look even larger. She gave a single, tight nod.

"Can we speak again in the morning?"

She hesitated, then nodded once more.

Jake felt a rush of relief. "I'll bring more food in the morning, and we can talk then. Okay?"

"Yes-yes," she whispered.

"Good," Jake said with another warm smile. But then it faltered. "Please... don't come back here, Ki-ki. They said they're getting someone who can climb trees like a baboon to look for you."

Her eyes went wide with terror. "Kay-kay," she whimpered.

Jake bit down on his lip. He had to get her to trust him--but how? Before he could speak again, she was gone.

He lunged around the trunk for a better look, but the space she'd occupied was empty. The leaves still shivered from her passing, and beyond that, nothing but shadows.

~ ~ ~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~ ~ ~

M'baka dropped onto his cot with a huff that rattled the canvas frame. He hated the nightly meetings--pointless updates with the puffed-up fools Geoffrey Hopper had brought in. He hated sleeping in cramped quarters crammed with supplies. He hated the reek of gun oil that clung to everything because Hopper insisted they carry firearms this time.

In truth, M'baka hated almost everything about this job... except the hunt.

But most of all, he hated the Englishman himself.

If the white man didn't pay so well, M'baka would have slit his throat months ago and tossed his corpse into the river for the crocodiles to gnaw on--diplomatic immunity be damned. Hopper was a man who hoarded information like a miser, always dangling half-truths instead of the details M'baka needed to do the job.

And now this new twist--the prey with animal traits. That changed everything. One had clearly left the area, but M'baka was certain the other was still close. Bringing in Taliki's cousin would slow them only a little. And if Taliki decided to run?

Foolish. M'baka knew every weakness of his men. He'd hunt him down, raze his village, and make him watch before ending his life slowly.

"M'baka!" The call came sharp and nasal from inside the inner folds of the tent.

The African giant inhaled slowly through his nose, calming the growl that threatened to rise. He stepped into Hopper's quarters.

The Englishman sat like a man holding court, tall but stoop-shouldered from years of grief. His silver hair was cropped close, his Van Dyke beard neat enough to pass military inspection. He dressed as though they weren't in the middle of the Congolese jungle--black slacks, pressed vest, chartreuse shirt. His matching jacket hung over a suitcase.

Three dark-skinned women flanked him--attendants, lovers, ornaments. To M'baka, they might as well have been chained.

"What?" M'baka growled.

"Anything new?" Hopper's tone was casual, but his pale eyes never softened.

"You mean aside from discovering the prey are animals?" M'baka's voice was low and sharp. "Why do you keep vital details from me?"

"It was need-to-know at the time," Hopper replied smoothly. He plucked a slim booklet from the table and tossed it. M'baka snatched it midair without looking.

"I leave for Bangui in the morning. You will remain until they are found. This time..." Hopper's lip curled slightly. "... alive. And untouched."

"I know how to follow instructions."

"Good. Then tell me--what have you learned?"

"One is gone. Northwest trail. Lost it. The other is still here. Jobu watches the white man and his four women."

"Still no idea who they are?"

"No."

"It may be prudent to pay them a visit," Hopper said. "Friendly. But cautious."

"I can make them disappear--"

"No!" Hopper's voice cracked like a whip. He caught himself, drawing the word back in. "No. Find out what they want. They may be here for the same reason."

"You think they hunt the same prey?"

"It's too much of a coincidence," Hopper murmured. "If so... perhaps they can be useful. My grandmother used to say you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. Be... agreeable."

"Why not kill the prey? As always?"

"Because they killed my son!" The words erupted from Hopper. He surged to his feet, chair clattering backward into one of the women. "They killed my boy!" His voice thickened with fury. "I want to see them suffer. I want them skinned alive. And when death comes for them, I'll pull them back and start again!"

"They did not kill Jeremy," M'baka said flatly. "You already have the one responsible."

"IT DOES NOT MATTER!" Hopper roared. "THEY ARE ALL RESPONSIBLE!" He dragged in a breath, smoothing his vest with shaking hands. When he spoke again, it was almost conversational. "I will not rest until their suffering matches mine."

"Keeping them alive will be dangerous," M'baka warned. "If the cat escapes, even your diplomatic immunity won't save you."

Hopper's eyes narrowed. "Go, M'baka. Bring me what I want--or you'll find yourself on my table instead."

M'baka let out a derisive scoff, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk. Then he turned and left without a word. Outside, the night air pressed hot and heavy against his skin. He needed a walk. If not for the obscene amount of money, he'd be far away from this pompous Englishman.

~ ~ ~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~ ~ ~

Jake stepped into the main chamber, the cave's cool air washing over him like relief itself. Goosebumps prickled along his sweat-dampened skin. The crackle of the fire and the smell of roasting meat drew him forward, easing the knot in his shoulders.

Sestia stood over the spit, slowly turning it. She looked up at him, her full lips curling into a smile that flickered relief before settling back into warmth.

"Dikos Mou," she greeted. "You have returned."

Xada sat with her back to him, Lenore on her right, Tatiana on her left. All three turned at once, smiles blooming.

"Five more minutes and we were gonna send a search party," Xada teased. "Where'd you wander off to?"

"Their camp," Jake said, jerking his chin toward the spit. "What's for dinner?"

"Some kind of deer," Lenore said. "We think it is native to the jungle."

"Three more hang in the pit," Sestia added without looking up.

Jake let out a low whistle. "Hunting trip went well. And you, Jessie? Find anything interesting down in the cave?"

"Somewhat," Xada said. Tatiana shifted to make room beside her, blushing softly as Jake slid down, stealing a quick kiss before lacing his fingers through hers.

"I reached the shelf I saw before. Confirmed the underground river's accessible, but the stalagmites are too tight to make moving around easy without clearing them. Broke off a few just to make getting back safer."

Jake nodded. "Think you can make a safe path to the water?"

Tatiana frowned. "Why?"

Jake shrugged. "Habit. Shelter, food, water--my survival training doesn't like to switch off. Sometimes I forget I'm just... not human anymore."

Xada giggled. "You're still human, silly. Just the upgraded model."

Tatiana squeezed his hand. "So? What did you find at the camp?"

Jake exhaled, then told them everything he'd seen and overheard. The bit about the man going to Kisangani made three of them exchange worried looks. Sestia's expression was different--hard, cold. Her hand clenched around the spit until the wood began to flake.

"I'm not letting them touch her," Jake said firmly.

That promise softened her glare, and he went on to describe his meeting with Ki-ki. The women perked up, the tension easing in their shoulders.

"She's agreed to talk to me again tomorrow morning," Jake finished. "We've got maybe two days--three at most--to win her trust. The spear was a huge step. Speaking of which... where is it?"

Lenore's grin bloomed. "Ask her." She nodded toward Sestia, who had gone faintly pink.

Jake followed her gaze to the spit. Recognition lit his face. "Is that--?"

"She killed the deer with it," Lenore said, laughter bubbling up. "Threw it so hard it went in through its bottom and out its throat."

Jake barked a laugh. "That's why you're blushing! I didn't think you could blush!"

"It is not funny," Sestia grumbled. "It was getting away. I wanted one more before we were done."

Lenore and Tatiana broke into open laughter. Even Xada couldn't keep her lips from quirking.

The fire burned low by the time Jake finally stretched out beside a very sexually sated Xada. Her warmth pressed into his side, her head pillowed on his shoulder as her silver hair splayed over his arm like a curtain of silk. The others had settled down in their own little pockets around him, the quiet broken only by the occasional snap of the fire and the soft drip of water somewhere deeper in the cave.

But Jake didn't sleep well. The thought of Ki-ki darting around in the same patch of jungle as men like Toro and M'baka kept scratching at his mind. By the time the faintest gray seeped into the cave entrance, he was already awake.

He eased himself free from Xada's grasp, careful not to disturb her, and crept outside. The jungle air was still cool from the night, but the heat was already gathering, ready to drop like a hammer once the sun climbed higher.

Without a sound, he scaled the nearest trunk and began weaving his way upward through the canopy, hands and feet finding purchase on familiar branches. It was second nature now -- as easy as walking on the ground.

The platform where he'd been leaving food for Ki-ki was quiet when he arrived. He crouched low, scanning the upper boughs. No movement. He pulled a strip of cooked meat from his pouch and set it down, then waited, keeping himself still as the leaves swayed gently overhead.

A faint rustle.

He didn't turn toward it immediately -- he'd learned not to. Instead, he let his gaze drift until it landed on a flash of pale fur and tangled cream-colored hair clinging to a trunk about twenty feet away.

Jake smiled faintly. "Morning, Ki-ki," he said softly.

The monkey girl stayed half-hidden, only one wide, dark-gray eye peeking at him. The fear was still there, but less sharp than before.

"I brought you breakfast." He nudged the meat toward the edge of the platform with one finger.

Ki-ki hesitated, then inched forward, every movement a careful, coiled readiness to leap away. Her fine-furred hand snatched the strip, retreating back against the bark to nibble.

"You remember what I said yesterday?" Jake asked. "About the men? They're going to bring someone who can move through the trees like you. That means it's not safe here anymore."

Ki-ki's chewing slowed. Her gaze darted toward the deeper jungle, then back to him.

"I want to help you," Jake went on. "But I need you to trust me first. Can we talk somewhere safer tomorrow?"

She tilted her head, the tangled curtain of her hair shifting just enough for him to glimpse more of her face -- high cheekbones, a dusting of fur along her jaw, the faint flare of her nostrils as she considered.

Finally, she gave a single, small nod.

Jake smiled. "Good. Same time tomorrow. And... thank you for the spear." He set it down in her nest, stained with blood and charred from fire.

Ki-ki's lips twitched, just barely, before she melted back into the branches and was gone.

Jake stayed crouched for a moment longer, the jungle suddenly feeling far too quiet. Then he turned toward the cave. The clock was ticking now, and they had less time than he'd hoped.

~ ~ ~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~ ~ ~

Ki‑ki clung to the highest branch she could reach, the one that swayed and groaned whenever the wind kissed it. She stayed there long after Jake had disappeared back toward his cave, her fingers digging into the bark until her knuckles ached.

The meat he'd brought lay warm in her belly, but it wasn't enough to quiet the storm in her chest.

She knew the leash was tightening. She could feel it, same as the damp heat pressing against her fur -- the slow, suffocating coil of the hunters drawing closer. Their voices drifted through the jungle sometimes, even when they weren't near. She could smell them, too. The acrid, bitter stink of metal and oil. The tang of their sweat.

They would find her.

They always did.

Running had worked before. She had fled through trees and rivers, over cliffs and through choking vines, always moving, always vanishing before their boots could crush her into the dirt. But the running had worn her thin. Every flight left her weaker. Every close escape stole another piece of her until she wasn't sure there was anything left to run with.

Jake's face kept pushing its way into her mind. The strange brightness in his eyes, the way he didn't look at her like she was prey -- or worse. She hated that it mattered. She hated the little flare of warmth that tried to grow whenever she thought of him.

But he was dangerous in his own way. Dangerous because he made her want to stop.

If she trusted him and he was lying, the hunters would have her within the day. If she didn't trust him... the hunters would still have her, just slower.

Her choice was no choice at all.

Ki‑ki pressed her forehead to the rough bark, eyes closing against the ache in her skull. The truth was a stone she could no longer spit out: she couldn't run anymore. Not far enough. Not fast enough.

That left her with two paths. One led to pretty Jake and his women. The other led to the end.

And like a maddening mantra that refused to leave her alone with her thoughts, Zi‑zi's warning rang inside her skull once again:

Stay hidden. Stay safe. I love you. Do not come looking for me.

Then, as if her two paths collided in a spark of dread and unwanted hope, Ki‑ki froze. Through the weave of leaves, she watched -- horrified -- as the big black man in the grass skirt strode toward Jake‑Jake's cave, five hunters at his back, and called out for him.

~ ~ ~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~ ~ ~

M'baka trudged up to the entrance to the cave with all the confidence of a born leader, hunter, and murderer. His heavy strides ate the ground, each step deliberate, his broad shoulders rolling with the easy rhythm of a predator who had never once doubted his place at the top of the food chain.

The humid air clung to his coal‑dark skin, but the heat didn't slow him; if anything, it seemed to feed his momentum. The grass skirt whispered against his muscled thighs, the only sound beyond the soft tread of the five men shadowing him. They fanned out loosely behind him, not because they feared an ambush, but because they knew their leader liked space when he hunted.

Ahead loomed the cave mouth -- dark, quiet, and almost... inviting. M'baka's sharp eyes swept its jagged edges, taking in every detail in an instant. He didn't need to see movement to know they were in there. He could smell them -- the faint trace of sweat, smoke, and cooked meat curling out of the shadows. The gentle sounds of rustling echoing within as his prey no doubt carried on with their morning routine unaware of the danger standing outside their door.

A thin smile curved his lips. They thought themselves hidden. Safe.

He stopped just short of the threshold, planting his feet in the dirt like a man who owned the ground beneath them. Then, cupping his hands around his mouth, he called out -- his deep voice rolling like distant thunder.

"White man! Come out. We speak."

The echo of his voice rolled into the cavern's depths, swallowed by the stone.
Behind him, his five hunters spread without a word, drifting to the edges of the clearing with the unhurried ease of men who had done this before. They didn't need orders -- they knew their places, their sightlines, the angles from which no one could slip past them without paying a heavy price.

M'baka stayed where he was, shoulders squared, weight settled like a great stone pillar rooted in the earth. His gaze never left the darkness yawning before him. Patience was a weapon he'd learned to wield long ago.

From within the cave, silence. The rustling stilled -- a pregnant pause that lingered far longer than it should have under normal circumstances. Then, a shadow shifting against deeper shadow. He caught it instantly.

Good.

They'd heard him.

He let the silence hang, heavy and expectant, letting the air itself seem to thicken with the certainty that he could wait all day if needed. And when they came, they would find no trace of hurry or unease in him -- only the quiet, coiled promise of a predator waiting for his prey to step into reach.

Then, from within, a swirling figure began to take shape -- slow, deliberate steps bleeding out of the whispering dark like shadows made flesh.

M'baka raised a single eyebrow as the man emerged, standing framed in the mouth of the cave like a morsel before a behemoth's gaping maw.

The man was unassuming at first glance -- smaller by half of M'baka's towering breadth, though only a few inches shorter in height. A man who, to anyone else, might have posed no threat.

But then M'baka met his eyes. Brown, yes -- but cold. Calculating. The eyes of a man who could greet you as a long-lost friend even as he slid a knife between your ribs.

A man M'baka could respect. Perhaps even understand.

Jake stopped just inside the threshold, one hand resting casually against the rough stone, posture loose, voice easy.

"You called?"

~ ~ ~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~ ~ ~

Jake sat cross-legged near the firepit, sleeves rolled and bare forearms dusted faintly with ash as he stirred the embers back to life. The cave still held the night's cool breath, the air rich with roasted venison and fading woodsmoke.

Behind him, Lenore sat between Sestia's knees, her head tipped back as the brunette's deft fingers braided her hair. Every now and then, Lenore's hand would slide absently along Sestia's calf in lazy appreciation. Xada knelt near their bedding, folding furs with unhurried grace, her hips swaying slightly with each movement.

By the entrance, Tatiana leaned against the wall, fastening the last clasps of her leather breastplate. She moved slowly, as if each buckle deserved its own moment, her gaze flicking to Jake more often than the task at hand.

It was the kind of easy domesticity he could get used to -- firelight, soft laughter, the quiet rustle of hair and fabric... and the unspoken closeness that came from waking together, touching without thought.

Jake reached over to brush a crumb from Sestia's bare thigh where she knelt beside him, his knuckles grazing the warm skin in a way that lingered just a little too long to be innocent. She glanced down at him, lashes lowering in mock chastisement, but the faint curl of her lips betrayed her amusement.

"Do not start what you cannot finish, Dikos Mou," she murmured, voice a velvet thread meant for him alone.

"I always finish," Jake said, grin tugging at his mouth.

Without looking, Xada tossed a folded blanket at him. "He thinks he always finishes," she said over her shoulder, drawing a round of soft chuckles.

Jake was just opening his mouth to answer when a voice cracked through the cave like a cannonball to glass.

Low. Deep. Heavy with command -- and carrying the sharp edge of a threat.

"White man! Come out. We speak."

The sound rolled into the cavern like distant thunder, bouncing from stone to stone until it seemed to come from everywhere at once. The women froze mid-motion, the warmth of moments before snuffed out in an instant. Jake's head lifted, his grin gone.

That was no lost hunter. No wandering villager.

"So, the bull leads his herd to slaughter," Jake murmured, rising.

Four pairs of eyes followed him, the air between them tightening into readiness.

He waved them off lightly. "I'll be right back."

At the mouth of the cave, Jake leaned against one wall, one hand braced overhead in a loose sprawl -- the kind that dared underestimation.

"You called?" he said, voice steady as stone.

The man who stood below was massive -- muscle and menace bound in scarred, midnight skin. The grass skirt didn't make him primitive; it made him stripped-down and raw, a predator without pretense. Five others flanked him, drifting at the treeline like patient wolves, their weapons loose but their stares locked on Jake.

M'baka's gaze swept him once, slow and deliberate. The corners of his mouth twitched -- not quite a smile, not quite a snarl.

"You are far from your village," he said, voice rumbling like a landslide.

Jake's brow lifted faintly. "You're far from yours."

The giant's head tilted a fraction -- a predator intrigued by prey that didn't bolt. "We hunt. We see strangers. We ask... why."

Jake let the moment stretch. "Sightseeing," he said lightly. "Lovely jungle this time of year."

A flicker passed behind M'baka's eyes -- irritation, quickly banked. "Be careful where you walk, white man. The jungle... it eats those who do not belong."

Jake's smile thinned, gaze sharpening to match. "Good thing I make friends easily."

For a heartbeat, nothing moved. Then M'baka gave a low grunt -- something between acknowledgment and warning -- and stepped back.

"We speak again," he promised, the words landing like a knife in the dirt. With a flick of his hand, his hunters ghosted into the green, vanishing almost without sound. M'baka lingered long enough to lock eyes with Jake one last time... then turned and followed.

"Take Jobu with you," Jake called after him. "He doesn't need to watch us anymore."

M'baka froze half a beat before snapping his fingers. Another man -- Jobu, no doubt -- scrambled from behind a nearby bush to follow.

Jake didn't move until the jungle had swallowed them whole. Only then did he push off the wall and let out a slow breath, the casual mask still in place -- but the weight of the encounter pressing behind his ribs. He'd played his hand, all but telling the big man he'd been watching him back.

The look on M'baka's face when he'd mentioned Jobu had been worth it. The man hadn't liked it. Which meant Jake had hit his mark.

But it was also a reminder. This wasn't a game. Not really. And if it was, the stakes were getting sharper by the day.

Jake didn't move until the jungle had swallowed M'baka and his men whole. He listened for the faintest crack of a branch or rustle of leaves -- but the forest had gone still again, the only sound the slow beat of his own breathing.

Only then did he let his gaze drift upward, past the cave mouth to the thick canopy above. A glimmer of reflected light caught his attention -- two wide, unblinking eyes peering down from the shadows.

Even from here, he could read the fear in her stillness. She hadn't so much as twitched while the hunters had been at his door.

Jake let his shoulders ease and tilted his chin just slightly, a gesture meant only for her -- quiet, unthreatening, the way you might calm a startled bird. He spread his empty hands in a small, open-palmed shrug, then tapped two fingers lightly against his heart before lowering them to his side.

It's all right.

The eyes didn't blink, but he thought -- hoped -- the tension in them lessened.

He held her gaze a heartbeat longer, then turned back toward the cave as if nothing at all had passed between them. No need to draw attention to her perch. Not with the memory of M'baka's stare still clinging to the air.

Inside, the scent of smoke and warm bodies closed around him again, but the weight of those frightened eyes followed him all the way in.

Four pairs of eyes fixed on him. No one asked. They didn't have to.

"Company's gone," he said, the half-smile never reaching his eyes. "But they'll be back."