The scream of the jungle's guardian pierced the false dawn with more loudness and fervor than any beast had before managed.
It echoed throughout the green, damp canopy and mist-layered sky without hindrance, startling things that looked warily about for the predator, and causing predators' ears to prick and eyes to narrow, as if searching for what challenged them without challenge.
In the distance, a gorilla troop stirred, and looked at each other, affirming. They knew. Kala smiled.
It was not her bellow of triumph, nor her announcing yell, but the basest expression of defiance and pain that her body had never experienced.
Tarzan howled again at the sky in her rage and this alien pain until her throat gave out again, laid out on the balcony on top of cloths surrounded by lights while Porter-Mum did things and said things Tarzan didn't understand, telling her she was doing well she was doing wonderful just let it all out, love, push, push, push...
James was huddled in the room just inside, having been told so by both women (Well, Mum really had just told him to stay there, Tarzan had just glared at him most pointedly, and oh Lord he was a horrible person), watching as well as he could as Tarzan gave another heart-piercing screech, and he prayed.
She did not need to scream any more, and just focused on her body as it tensed and sweated and glared up at the sky, and then felt oh that stings... Tarzan gritted her teeth, a last, drawn-out growling groan as...as...!
Well done, love! Porter-Mum said while she gasped, beautiful, beautiful, I have him, rest now, rest, dear, James, James...
A new type of crying rose into the air, small, hiccupped, and shrill.
Tarzan's eyes snapped forward, and she struggled to sit up, holding out her arms.
Hers...hers!
It was still messy, and loud, yet so hot and so small, and pink, and she blinked down at it as it—as he whimpered and was turning his face towards her chest. She fed him, and he was quiet as he blindly suckled.
She blinked again, staring as she held this soft little stranger to her, stunned.
"J-James..." she mumbled hoarsely.
"I'm right here, Tarzan," she heard him at her shoulder, looking down at their little stranger, "He's-he's our son Tarzan, he's—!"
James sounded choked, and Tarzan smiled tiredly, leaning back against her husband.
"He looks strange." she said after a moment of thought, and he laughed weakly, kissing her sweaty shoulder.
"All babies do, love... You did wonderful..."
She winced a little and switched the baby over, who protested only slightly before feeding again.
". . . What do we call him?" she asked after a moment, panicking a little. They'd talked about names, but now that he was here...
"I think 'James' would be a little portentous." he chuckled.
"I like James."
"I like me, too. But let's give the chap his own name, hm?" a hand cautiously stroked that small, hot, fuzzy, damp scalp.
She suggested some gorilla names, and James smiled a bit nervously.
"They're nice, but I'm not sure those'll work, dear..."
"They're strong names." she pointed out.
"We want a name that everyone will consider strong. You know how humans are." he joked.
Tarzan sighed, thinking.
"Samson?" she asked, remembering the strong man from the Bible.
"Hmm..." James leaned his chin gently on her shoulder. "You like that name?"
She nodded, a strong son was a good thing, a strong name would define him, and protect him.
"Sam for short?"
She nodded, looking down at their little one.
"Samson Tobias Porter," James continued, "Tobias was my father."
Tarzan frowned, going it over, "Long name..."
"Well, I'm James Archimedes Porter. And my father was Tobias Nicodemus Porter. We have a history of long names."
"It makes it fun to talk about the family tree," Porter-Mum spoke up, coming back with food for Tarzan. "What do you think, love?"
Tarzan blew air through her nose, and sniffed at her child. He smelled bloody, yes, but was new, and hers, and James'...
"Hello, Sam." she told him quietly. Sam didn't answer, but that was okay.
James didn't say anything either, but he just grinned, and looked wet around the eyes.
. . .
Later, the gorilla troop would whoop and howl and celebrate, and Kala made a special nest for the nest-room for her grandson.
Porter-Mum would write letter after letter after letter of announcements to people in London about her first grandson.
Later, James would take his own time to howl, but away from the home, because it was Sam's first naptime.
Even later, when both her husband and her son were at the moment asleep and safe, Tarzan would go out and climb to the tallest tree she found. She'd look up at the cloudy, starry sky, and not howl, but simply smile.
Her body was empty, and soft, and tired, but triumphant.
She did not need to howl her triumph, when her body and the new little life at home was enough to show it.
Her son had made her howling for her the moment he took his first, beautiful breath...