Chapter VII

A sliver of sunshine fell upon Clayton's eyes. Each muscle in his face twitched in irritation. For the first time in months, he had slept exceedingly well, neither haunted by the dread of being murder by some wild beast nor discomfort of uneven bed with prodding detritus. He did not want this relaxation to end, but eventually, he stretched and groaned with his slowly recovering awareness.

His heart skipped suddenly. Had he been hallucinating last night? he wondered. He could have sworn that some native woman had come, seeking his company—no. No, not a native woman; it was his pet, his precious Sheeta. She had returned to him, no longer a wild, deadly beast but a lady who fawned before him. Only her green eyes had been the same, burning with her untamable expressiveness nature. He had succumbed to her guile, and he had delighted in every minute that they had spent.

But now he felt unsure. Certainly, some fever had struck him, whether brought on by eating bad meat or being scratched by some venomous thorn. Animals could not change their shape; and if he had been overcome by strange visions, then he had committed an unspeakable act.

Clayton shut his eyes, patting his surroundings with one hand. When he came across tender flesh, he opened his eyes and glanced to his side.

Her face was still the face of a native woman, lips plump and—from what he recalled of last night—tender and sumptuous, like ripe jungle fruit. Her breasts were delicate and comely, like two fair gazelles, and her hips were wide and inviting, like a hearth during a long, cruel winter. Her skin was the only clue that betrayed her true self: a belly of ivory, a back of gold, and ebony rosettes that blossomed all around her.

Clayton smiled and lay on his side, closer to Sheeta. He had not the faintest idea of how she had come to gain a human body, although he knew that she was a smart creature—sharper than all of his hunting hounds on his English estate combined. Certainly, she was smart enough to find some shaman, some incantation, or some enchanted fruit. Regardless of how Sheeta had gained her humanity, he was much more certain as to why she had done it, and he had no complaints. Of all the females in the world, be they ladies or leopards, she was the most worthy partner for him: his African Artemis.

Sheeta's eyes fluttered open when he touched her cheeks. She yawned, her canine teeth, which were longer than a normal human's, gleaming. Clayton chuckled.

"And good morning to you as well, my wild cat," he said.

Sheeta smirked. Guile shone in her emerald eyes, and she purred.

"Clayton," she rumbled softly, wrapping her arms around him.

His kisses were delicate pecks. She was more rough and animalistic, and soon, he returned in kind. He had no qualms about engaging in another passionate moment with her.

"Oh, Sheeta," he sighed, "you've ravished my heart with both of your eyes."

The leopard-woman rumbled back softly, as if she understood, replying in her native tongue. She touched his face so lightly, it felt as though a feather had touched him, and he shuddered.

Sheeta yawned again and stretched her limbs. Clayton sat back and admired her feline flexing, the ease with which that lean, toned body bended. Then she lay on her back, gazing upside down at him with lazy eyes and a content smile.

"Did Aphrodite make you?" he wondered with a laugh. "I should hope not. She would change you back in a heartbeat if she knew how cat-like you still are."

All the while, Sheeta smirked and laughed softly as he spoke. She had not gained the ability to understand the speech of White Apes in the last few hours, but still, he spoke to her as if she did. She knew what his 'No' and his 'Yes' sounded like. She knew the doting names that he had given her: 'good girl,' 'tender girl,' and 'precious pet.' She even knew the names of disdain that he had for their enemies: 'savage,' 'bastard,' and 'ape-man.' But not even Tanda had the power to give the speech of the White Apes to her.

Instead, Sheeta always listened to his tone. Anger, sadness, and happiness barely varied between the two peoples. And he sounded very happy, happier than he had in ages. The fact that he chattered on and on, as if she were his kind, made her heart feel even lighter.

Joining his side, she kissed his cheeks. He sucked her lips, and she laughed as he caressed her.

If only this could be forever! she thought in her elation.

They carried on in their gaiety a few moments longer before Clayton stretched and replaced his outer skins upon his body. He climbed down the tree, hiding his labour beneath the detritus, near the niche of the tree. Sheeta joined him and watched as he sharpened his silver fang on a special stone that he kept with him at all times. Then he put away the stone, looked at Sheeta, and batted the air with the fang.

It was time to hunt, he was saying.

Sheeta's eyes widened. She looked at her hands and held them up to Clayton.

"How can I hunt?" she asked.

The Ape pouted and moved his lips from side to side. He grabbed one of the sharpened bamboo sticks, thin but sturdy, about the length of his arm from the shoulder to the tip of his middle digit. He handed it to her and stabbed the air with his silver fang.

Sheeta was going to hunt like the Hairless Apes.

Her heart leaped for a moment. She? A Leopard? To hunt with a spear? She would have laughed, but the recognition that she was a small-toothed, small-clawed creature was finally sinking in. If she wanted to eat, then she needed to use the tools of his kind. After all, Hairless Apes were a vulnerable lot; Nature had not been generous to them in that regard.

"Sheeta?"

The young hunter gazed up at her companion. He placed a hand upon her shoulder and chattered, likely asking her if she were all right.

"Humph! My mother was killed by a spear like this one," she said. Then she thought a little more on her dilemma and said, "But I suppose I haven't any other option, except let you hunt alone. And you most certainly are not leaving my sight, my King."

She smiled, looked up at him, and nodded.

"Good girl," he said and began to lead the way.

The hunters journeyed to a nearby stream, where hogs and sitatungas and chevrotains often drank. To their fortune, a well-fed mother sitatunga and her fatty calf had stopped. The hunters parted, stationed themselves on either side of the party, and watched them from the shadows, inching carefully closer.

The mother lifted her head and smelled the air. The hunters crouched closer to the ground, watching her ears flick around. Then the sitatunga nudged her calf, quietly beckoning him to follow her.

Sheeta sprang first. The sitatunga shrieked and dashed across the stream, her calf in tow. The leopard-woman closed in on him, leaping over every root and bush that they tried to use as an obstacle. The mother shrieked again as Clayton swung his silver fang at her, appearing unexpectedly from the side and nearly cleaving her neck. The calf stumbled and cried, and for a moment, his mother almost returned. But at the instant Sheeta's spear sank into his hind leg, and he cried in the manner all injured prey cries, the sitatunga paused and stayed her distance, watching as Clayton leaped upon him and landed the finishing blow. The sitatunga fled.

Prying the spear from her meal, Sheeta set it aside and began to pick at its hide with her nails and teeth.

"Oh, no, no, no, no!" Clayton scolded as he slung it over his shoulders. "I'm afraid that won't work, my dear. We'll have to take him back and prepare him properly."

The younger hunter gazed at him as he strolled back to camp. Was it truly not enough that she had hunted like he had? Was she to eat like one of his kind as well?

But this is what I wished for, she reminded herself, for us to be of one kind.

She sighed and followed him. And as they walked, she began to wonder if she made a poor choice. What if she did not regain her true form? What if she did, but in the midst of a hunt or if a Prince tried to take Clayton's life again? Not giving the thought a second go, Sheeta determined that she would seek out Tanda again for her help in the evening.

"Ooph!"

The young Queen bumped into Clayton. He dropped the sitatunga calf and grabbed her, throwing her into the bushes. Sheeta snarled, "What are you do—"

His hand clamped around her mouth, and he gazed intensely at her. He nodded toward their camp and crawled quietly on the forest floor. Finally, snapped from her thoughts regarding her fate, she heard the troop.

"... sure this is a good idea? I mean, this is..." The elephant paused and gulped. "... Leopard territory."

Sheeta immediately bristled when she heard the voice of the one who replied:

"Everyone I've talked to said a white ape was spotted in this area."

"But there've been no new boats," said the elephant, "no camps, no guns fired—"

"We're not taking any chances," said Tarzan. "Jane said people might come from England, looking to find out what happened to Clayton. She said he belonged to a very important family, and since the boat couldn't take him back—"

One of the Blackbacks sighed.

"Even if more Apes from this... England joint came looking for him, they aren't gonna find him."

"Yeah," said another. "I mean, you saw those Leopard tracks where he got strung up. He's probably bones in someone's cave by now."

Sheeta smirked. Oh, those fools! Would they be surprised!

"Hold it!" Tarzan commanded, and the troop fell silent.

The hunters gazed through the brush as the ape-man sifted through the camp. He sniffed the the remains of the fire before recoiling quickly, and he began to sift through the detritous, handling some of Clayton's work. Sheeta glanced at her King, his bared teeth.

Not yet, she thought, not yet...

"There are other humans," said Tarzan. "It looks like... two, at least." Then he sniffed around some more and said, "There's also a Leopard that's been nosing around... eating scraps, it seems."

"Well, then, let's go!" exclaimed a female Gorilla gleefully. "Whoever they are, they're cat-chow now—"

"But they are also my people!" Tarzan snarled, and the female recoiled.

"Yeah, but they could also be... Clayton's people specifically," the elephant remarked.

Tarzan rumbled contemplatively and continued his investigation. He eyed the tree in which the hunters had dwelt the night before, and he climbed it. Sheeta grabbed Clayton by the shoulder when he prepared to lunge.

"You see anything?" one of the Blackbacks called.

The ape-man leaped down and shook his head. Some members of the troop sighed.

"We best be gettin' back to the family, then," said the female Gorilla, and they turned and began their journey home.

Tarzan lingered. He gazed slowly around the forest, scanning the canopy and narrowing his gaze at every bush. As he began to creep from the camp, he stopped and jumped. He leaned closely to the ground and sniffed before lifting his discovery.

It was the red skin that Clayton always wore around his neck. This time—this one time, out all the instances that he could have forgotten it—he had let it slip when they had gone hunting. The blood rushed from Sheeta's face and flooded her heart.

Tarzan sat and brought it close to his face. His eyes were wild with confusion, and he kept sniffing.

"What is he doing?" Clayton hissed.

Sheeta could see Tarzan trembling. He bit his bottom lip, and his eyes darted from side to side in alarm.

"Guys? Guys! Wait!" he cried, catching up to them. "Tantor, smell this."

"What?"

"Tell me. Does this belong to a dead man or a live one?"

"I... Well, I mean, I don't know what a lot of humans smell like outside of you and Lady Jane and Mr. Porter—"

The ape-man roared like a Silverback: "Can you tell me if this belongs to the living or the dead?"

Sheeta did not like the pause that followed. If that blasted elephant could identify him, then they would have little choice after that.

They would have to attack.

Finally, the elephant called Tantor replied: "Smells alive to me—yeesh!"

"No..." Tarzan's voice became grim, and he began to walk back to the camp.

"Tarzan?" his troop said.

Sitting in the midst of the camp, their leader pawed at the ashes of the fire. He gazed up again at the hunters' tree before gazing at the jungle and sighing.

"The White Ape who has risen from the Black Realm..." he murmured. "But that can't be... It just can't..."

So the rumour had finally reached Kerchak's clan? Tarzan, at least, thought Sheeta with a glare. This changed little, she assured herself. The rest of their clan did not know, and Tarzan was not sure beyond a shadow of a doubt. For all he knew, a Leopard was stalking Clayton and would make short work of him in time. No, his suspicions would pass.

"Gapele!"

"Yes, Tarzan?" said one of the Blackbacks.

"I want there to be at least four guards tonight, watching the family at all times."

"Four? What for?"

"Just see that it happens!"

"Y-Ye... Yes, sir!"

"Terk! I want you to keep watch over Jane with my mother, and see to it you all stay as high off the ground as you can."

"You got it, boss," said the female.

"I'm going to consult the old Mandrill Chief Akutwa-usha."

"The old, kooky shaman?" said the female. "What for?"

"I hope for a clear answer," said Tarzan as he hopped upon Tantor's back.

"All right," said the female with a dubious tone, "good luck with that."

With Clayton's red skin in hand, Tarzan parted ways with his company. As soon as they were distant, Clayton erupted from the brush, stamping and cursing. Sheeta's mood fared no better. This was not the day that she wanted to have after such a wonderful night—she would tear Kala's son to pieces for this!

"That damned, little ape-man! I—rraugh!" Clayton cursed and smashed the bones of an old meal against the tree again and again until it snapped. He supported himself against the tree, arms stiff and fingers digging into the trunk. "I'll kill him! I'll kill the little bastard! Why the hell did I hestitate, damn it? I'm through waiting!"

Clayton whipped around, his eyes blazing with anger, when Sheeta touched his shoulder. Her wrath having also been stirred, she nodded slowly at him before glancing in the direction that Tarzan's people had taken.

"Get it," she said in his Ape tongue, recalling the command he often uttered during the hunt or games.

" 'Get it'?" he repeated with an eyebrow raised.

Sheeta nodded and pointed. "Follow."

For a moment, he was stunned that she had uttered English and seemed to understand what those words meant. Then he looked at the path that the gorillas had taken, then to her, then the path again. He grinned.

"Follow them," he said.

Sheeta smiled and rumbled, touching his cheek.

"The little ape-man will have to go back to his family, won't he?" he said in that oh-so-sweet tone that barely masked his malice. "And it would be terribly tragic if, say, a trap had been laid for him on the way, something rather nasty and... dear me, fatal, even?"

Then he uncovered his handiwork and gathered it together, using the nets that he had made to carry all of it.

"Fetch that, will you, dear?" he said, nodding toward their nearly forgotten kill. "I have a feeling we won't be hunting anything else for the day... at least, until our ape-man reappears. Hahaha!"


Annotations: Her breasts were delicate and comely, like two fair gazelles... (from The Song of Solomon)

"Oh, Sheeta," he sighed, "you've ravished my heart with both of your eyes." (from The Song of Solomon)

"Did Aphrodite make you?" he wondered with a laugh. (from the story of The Cat and Aphrodite. Depending on the narrator, either a cat fell in love with a man, or a man fell in love with a cat, and Aphrodite fulfilled the wish to turn the cat into a woman. But then the goddess tricked the woman to chase a mouse, and she turned the woman back into a cat.)

"Jane said people might come from England, looking to find out what happened to Clayton. She said he belonged to a very important family..." (Clayton is based off the character William Cecil Clayton in Edgar Rice Burroughs' novels. He and Tarzan are members of a power house called Greystoke. As crooked as Clayton was (in the movie), Jane fears that because of his nobility, and the fact that his body was never recovered, someone suspicious of his death might come to the jungle, perhaps even try to get revenge.)

Gapele (Mangani) 'red valley.' One of the mature male Gorillas, or 'Blackbacks.'

Akutwa-usha (Mangani) 'wise leaf.'