Sorry for the delay. I had wanted to write a scene or two to go between the last one and this one, so I was putting off posting. But I guess I'll go ahead and publish for know and if the muse strikes me later, I might insert some filler scenes. Hope you continue to enjoy my take on the new movie.


He heard the thwack of the arrow from yards away. It wasn't an unfamiliar sound. There were often natives coming into the jungle to prove themselves to their tribes by bringing home the bodies of dead gorillas or leopards or other dangerous wild animals. He knew it wasn't anyone from the village. Their tribe didn't practice those customs. Tarzan had been gathering fruit with his mother and had climbed some trees a little ways away from her to get some of the thicker, juicier fruits. The sound made him go instantly still as he made use of all of his senses to perceive where the threat was. He heard the shuffling and heavy breathing of the hunters. And then he heard his mother give a huff and heard her body slump to the ground. As instantly as he became still he was back in action. He dropped agilely from the tree, letting gravity do most of the work for him, coming down on the balls of his feet and running before he could feel the sting of his landing.

He was at his mother's side in seconds. He could see the arrow protruding from her back, all thoughts of the hunters abandoned. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her into his lap. He cooed and grunted to her, trying to calm her. She didn't need calming, though. She looked up at him with already serene eyes, as though she knew her fate and didn't want to upset him further. He kept cooing and grunting, trying to calm himself. She wrapped her thick fingers behind his neck, looking into his eyes and telling him everything that human words could never express. Not even special, important words like 'love.' He stared back, his eyes echoing hers. His hand pressed against the side of her face and his thumb stroked her cheek. He felt something hot and wet stinging at the back of his eyes. Jane had told him that gorillas couldn't cry, but she was wrong. Just because they didn't spill the salty liquid called 'tears' didn't mean that their eyes didn't pour over with grief. Her breathing became more shallow as she brought her other arm up to show him the smooth, white stone that she always had with her. She offered it to him, wanting him to take it. He reached for it, holding onto the rock but not letting go of her hand. She looked deep into his eyes one more time before she let out another breath and her arms went limp as her eyes rolled slightly back and closed. He still held her tightly, his fist closed around the big stone in a grip that turned his knuckles white. He buried his face in her neck and smelled her, felt her, breathed her in. But instead of smelling her familiar, comforting scent, he smelled the blood coming from her back and instead of feeling her, he felt...nothing.

He heard rustling in the underbrush behind him. He looked up protectively and saw the faces of the hunters.