"John, would you stop leaning out the window like that?"
John eased back a bit with a sigh, neck still straining to look down into the forest floor below the enormous tree house.
"Something's down there," he sighed. "I swear."
"And what if it's that leopard again?" John's mother, Elizabeth, straightened her apron nervously as she spoke. "Your father fought it off once when you were little, but we can't be so lucky twice-"
"Mother, the leopard isn't coming back," John groaned. "That was ages ago. It probably died."
"Leopards live for a long time," Elizabeth fretted.
"Mother."
"It's true!"
"Lighten up! Dad taught me everything I need to know about the jungle, right?" said John, flashing a winning grin at his father.
John's father, James, looked up from where he reclined in a handmade wooden chair with a tattered book. "Don't involve me," he muttered, fiddling with his mustache.
"That's all you have to say?" whined John.
James sighed, resting the book on his lap and staring accusingly at Elizabeth. "The boy's prepared enough to go out there on his own, Lizzie."
Elizabeth stared nervously at the window, auburn hair framing her face in a red glow of worry. "But the leopard-"
"I can handle it," said John, quieter. "I'm strong. And I can climb."
"We know you can climb," James chuckled, going back to his book.
"Fine, fine!" exclaimed Elizabeth. "You can go have a look. But bring a spear. And I swear to god if you wander off again and you survive it you won't be leaving this tree house until you learn self-control-"
By the time she finished talking John had already scrambled out the door and down the rope ladder that snaked down the enormous tree the house sat in. Spear lashed to his back, he dropped down into the spongy undergrowth, and took a deep, cleansing breath.
The jungle had always fascinated him, from when he was very young and his father would carry him around in a sling on his back. The smells, the dappled shadows in the undergrowth, the snaking vines and tree-paths—they wound their way into John's dreams each night, where he often imagined swinging through them and scaling the great trees that towered at the tops of the mountains.
He stared back up at the tree house. He could hear his father in his head. We built this with our own two hands, son. This is your protection from what lies beyond.
"I don't need to be protected," John grumbled as he trudged through the undergrowth. "I can take care of my-"
There was a crackle of leaves very close by. Instinctively, John crouched down next to a tree and froze, peering through the leaves and pressing himself into the concave mossy bark.
The crackling continued, too heavy and methodical to be the light-footed prowl of a leopard. John slipped off his shoes and slung them around his neck, digging his hands and feet into the bark and scrabbling up the tree like a gecko. There he hung over a small clearing, silently staring down at the creature below him.
It was a gorilla.
John's eyes widened. His father had seen a family of them before but John had never seen one with his own eyes, save sketches his parents had put together shortly after they marooned and built the tree house.
From what he knew, this one was probably a female, though still enormous compared to his wiry self.
"Don't go near them," Elizabeth always cautioned. "They're unpredictable."
John was considering the validity of this when he lost his footing and tumbled through the air to land in a pile of thick grass on the forest floor. He scrambled quickly to orient himself, rising to his feet to find himself eye-level to the gorilla.
The creature took a tentative step backwards. John reached for his spear, but froze when the confusion on the creature's face turned to terror, then ferocious bared teeth. He dropped his hand quickly, holding them both up to the gorilla, which calmed down slightly, still guarded.
"It's ok," John said softly, locking eyes with her. "I won't harm you."
The gorilla didn't move. Though she couldn't understand him, the soothing nature of his voice made her curious.
Slowly, John reached back and pulled the string lashing the spear to his back, causing it to fall to the ground with a dull thump. He kicked it behind him with his foot. "Nothing to fear," he told her.
Now the gorilla cocked her head, eyes softening slightly. She took a tentative step forward, eyes filled with wonder.
"So this is a gorilla," John mused, looking her over with fascination. He dropped into a crouch, mimicking her position in the undergrowth, knuckles underneath his weight.
"So this is a human," Kala whispered quietly, though to John it just sounded like a soft grunt. She examined his hairless body, save a short and scraggly mess atop his head, his canvas clothing and sinewy yet strong stature. Kerchak had warned her many a time of the dangerous, sinister race that had washed up every few years or so on the shore, but this human didn't appear sinister at all.
Slowly, John brought his hand up to reach out to her, holding it there with caution.
Kala's eyes widened. "It's so different, yet..." She raised her own enormous hand to touch his. Her leathery black palm engulfed his slim, pale one and they splayed their fingers out together in fascination.
…"It's the same…" John breathed.
For a moment, the whole forest seemed to shudder, and the air blurred. John's green eyes locked again with the deep brown of Kala's, and he found himself aware of the pounding in his chest.
"You still down there?" a voice rang out from above. "Come back in soon!"
John rolled his eyes, murmuring softly, "Don't be afraid. It's just my mother."
Kala's gaze flicked upwards for a moment, where she saw through a hole in the undergrowth another strange human in the box-tree, a face she recognized from the day they appeared on the island years ago. Kala had remembered the small bawling child on the long-haired human's back.
His mother.
Her eyes snapped back to John, overcome with emotion as their hands stayed mirrored. She could see her own child before her now, a black furry ball of energy and affection. Though it was ages ago, she could almost feel him cradled in her arms, clinging to her back, hooting softly in the way babies did. She could feel the terror as she raced through the jungle, her child calling out frantically, then the yowl of a leopard-
Now her heart was pounding too. She looked down for a moment, trying not to weep, focusing on the feeling of John's hand still pressed against hers.
"My son," she sobbed softly. She met John's eyes. "My son."
Kala did not know John's name, but in her heart she chose one for him.
"Tarzan."
The next thing he knew John was pulled gently towards Kala, wrapped up in a warm furry embrace against her chest that he could only compare to the warmth of his mother covering him in blankets on the coldest nights. Head pressed against her chest, he could hear her heartbeat. He felt a tear hit his forehead and withdrew to see the sorrow on the gorilla's face.
"You've lost someone, haven't you?" he said softly. He thought of the elephants he had seen by their dying calves, the pain in their eyes transcending species. Her eyes held the same pain and flickered gently as she looked at him.
"It's ok," he whispered, wiping her leathery cheek. "Stop your crying, it'll be alright."
He took her enormous hand again, and held it tight.