Thank you guys for comments! I'm so glad that I've received any that you have no idea!

As for mistakes - I know that I make them and I'm really sorry, see, no matter how many times I check it and what language I write in, they are always crawling out like roaches.

Perhaps, German comes easier...

Well, in this chapter be aware of violence. The story goes on!

Your thoughts on the progress would be lovely!

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Next day he noticed a large cat in the tousles nearby. Erik didn't know whether it was yesterday's panther or another animal. It seemed as if the beast was watching him for some reason. Erik rose to his feet, pretending that he was going to leave the clearing – the panther immediately disappeared in the forest. The only thing he saw was a flash of dark elegant body between the leaves. It might be hungry. This time he ate some meat and left the remnants on the ground. There's no need to throw good food away. Erik will gladly share.

Before crossing the river he decided to make a short stop. When he prepared to go, he caught a glimpse of bright yellow eyes with round pupils, watching him from afar.

So they travelled together – Erik and the panther. Erik always left it some meat. He was constantly being watched – the panther lurked nearby, but didn't come close. The cat usually occupied lower branches of huge trees or slept under bushes. Erik became so accustomed to its presence that the day it didn't show up he felt a twinge of anxiety. Next morning, the panther was peeking out of the shrub as if nothing has happened. Erik left some fresh meat again.

The animal never came near him; it was always keeping a safe distance. Erik hasn't got a chance to see it in the open, but yellow eyes were following him every day.

In time, he reached his destination and was very happy to discover the cabin intact. After all, this area wasn't as humid as the surrounding forest. Small stream, two dozen yards to the south has turned into a small pond. Lots of bright yellow orchirds and other flowers growing there made it look like a small paradise.

Erik fully enjoyed his rest. He stopped following the time and let it flow. Days and nights were passing by…

He tried to push his recovering body to its limits – jumping, running and chasing prey the way he did when he was a child. Erik welcomed the pleasant exhaustion. It made him feel alive.

The panther appeared several times in the vicinity. However, the food he left always disappeared without a trace.

Soon his wounds healed completely. Once again he felt absolutely confident in native surroundings.

Meanwhile, he decided to renovate his house – he had to throw away two wooden chairs, but the bed was still in decent condition. Erik found several tools, one old but sharp razor and a bottle of ink – his mother's, was still in the box together with her diary.

Unfortunately, Erik ran out of work excitement very quickly. One afternoon, he caught himself carving wooden chess piece, before he realized that he meant to fix the leg of the table. The world outside jungles was… full of people – mostly obnoxious and narrow-minded…

So why does he miss it?

His whole being became accustomed to it. Besides, some sense of unease was clawing at him.

He looked through the papers again and again and was becoming more and more somber. An old photograph dated 1865 unearthed in the archives was the most disturbing evidence he has ever laid his hands on. They were eight. The smiling young man with a huge sword – really– the sword – was making a saluting gesture. Next to him stood a stocky man with cigar in the corner of his mouth. He was lazily leaning on the barrel. One man's features were practically indiscernible. But the one in the center, and Erik would bet anything on it, was the officer he met a few weeks ago. Sebastian Shaw was looking at him from the picture as if he has recently… Impossible, Erik told himself. But the feeling of dread was growing in the pit of his stomach. He has stumbled upon something illogical, unnatural. Either this or Erik is losing his mind. A doppelganger? Or a fake, perhaps? What for? How?

Frustrated, he closed the case and put it back on the upper shelf.

Night life in his jungles was free from riddles and mysteries. It swallowed all his worries. This is the only thing that matters right now – his life, his survival and his next prey.

ooo

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Since that episode near the creek, well, since that unfortunate night everything went to hell. And Charles meant it. Literally. It went downhill from that moment in the morning when Moira, once barely glanced at him, decided to ignore his presence. Charles hadn't slept all night, tossing and turning and thus completely forgot to make himself presentable… Hastily, he tied a light scarf around his neck which only drew everybody's attention if Logan's unrestrained laugh was not enough.

Sean was throwing up in the bushes – some bet he had previously lost to Alex involved smoking the weed "borrowed" from natives.

Hank said that Sean was lucky – the consequences could have been much worse.

Captain Shaw was occasionally glancing at Charles with barely concealed enmity and was even more nervous than usual.

In addition to all the pleasantries of the day, the natives, hired to carry supplies refused to cross the river in the afternoon. They were standing on the bank, the bunch of almost naked scrawny people, wildly gesturing toward the other side of the river. Logan, being more or less the expert in local dialect was trying to persuade them. As far as Charles could see, all his attempts have fallen on deaf ears.

Charles decided to be useful and asked if he could help.

Logan laughed him in the face which was not exactly unexpected but no less degrading.

'Sorry, your lordness, there's nothing you can do.'

His linguistic eccentricities were mainly directed at Charles – and Charles right now was not in the mood for teasing or jokes or anything funny for that matter.

Logan read his expression quite well and continued in a serious voice:

'These herbivores are scared to cross the river – they don't want to become a dinner for bogetsu. The tribe,' a grave nod, 'whose territory or whatever… is on the other side, here. Of course, they like to include some human flesh in the menu from time to time. But attacking an armed group? No way, I say. They're cowards. Your lordness, do you know how to hold a gun, by the way? Never seen you in action, so?'

Reluctantly, Charles nodded.

'Let's see. Here, take this one,' he put out his Smith and Wesson and Charles automatically checked the chambers, noted the comfortable weight of the handgun and slightly scratched barrel. His hands moved as if he was underwater – slowly but surprisingly steadily. Part of his mind was already overcome with hot, blazing panic. Charles has entertained the thought, not the thought but hope, that he would never touch any weapon again. He was wrong. Again, he was so completely wrong.

Logan spared him a look and patted Charles on the back – he has barely kept a flinch. Man was freakishly strong and tended to forget it. Nevertheless, this was Logan's way to express his approval and offer some support… Maybe.

'And here I've already started to worry! All right, now you stay close to your children and Moira and don't do anything stupid. Clear? Now, disappear from my sight.'

He promptly pushed Charles in the opposite direction.

But the situation grew tenser and tenser until the conflict reached its peak. And all the hell has finally broke loose.

Captain Shaw was swearing so loudly, that his voice was probably reaching the above mentioned cannibals. He abandoned his argument with Logan and switched to the natives. Their leader was probably as stubborn as captain if not more so.

Despite Logan's warning to stay put, Charles couldn't bare this any longer. He asked Moira to look after Sean and told Alex and Hank to keep her company.

He came closer just on time to witness an ugly scene – captain Shaw was beating one of the natives, while his men were holding others at gunpoint, forcing them back.

'You scrum!' he was swearing both in English and French, his face unnaturally white and sweaty.

Charles has caught his look and stood, momentarily frozen. Holy goodness, that outburst of rage! Could that be that he has a seizure. He should have realized sooner. Captain Shaw is probably…

'Easy, man!' Logan tried to pull the captain from the poor man covering on the ground.

Strange, but Logan, obviously stronger and tougher Logan couldn't move him an inch.

'You…' spit Shaw redirecting his attention to Logan. 'I know you. I know that I've seen you! You've been watching me! You are one of them! Of course, you're!'

Shaw turned his back on the man and approached Logan in few unsteady steps.

'You're crazy, man,' firmly stated Logan and didn't move.

Charles hastened to come and stand by his side but Logan frowned with murderous expression and he stumbled.

Instead, Charles frantically looked around trying to find the injured man and offer help but he was interrupted with a loud cry.

Captain Shaw and Logan were rolling in the dust on the ground. Logan's entire face was painted with blood, but he was even fiercer than before. He growled and tried to immobilize captain's hands.

A bang interrupted the flow of curses.

Charles went deaf for a moment.

Reality came back in a rush and the blood drained from his face in an instant. He couldn't move, couldn't run and silently observed Logan's last attempts to grab Shaw.

Captain cursed and rolled away. He was still clutching a revolver in his right.

Part of Charles, which made him meticulous scientist, noted that gaping wound was making a slurping sound due to the air passing through the chest cavity; blood was spilling with speed and intensity suggesting a severe blood loss – two minutes are left, no more. And his other part was dying on the ground together with Logan – desperately trying to take a breath. His eyes met Charles' and his bloodied lips moved. Logan wanted to tell him something but it was too late.

Captain's voice dragged him out of his stupor and he slowly turned.

Shaw cocked his revolver, impassive, and aimed at the man he was beating before, sprawled at his feet.

'This is what happens to those who are stupid enough to disobey me! Chose, either you follow me or you get a bullet in your head and we start the same conversation again,' he emphatically clicked the trigger and started.

'One!'

Shaw kicked the man in the ribs.

'Two!'

For Charles time had stopped. His shivering had stopped.

Charles snatched the gun and pulled the trigger.

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Alex intended to go and have a look, because, really, he is not a child, but Xavier, as usual, left him with women and children. Not that Hank was a child, but… Alex had his fun in the morning – Sean had demonstrated new levels of naïve stupidity. Now, those servants were a bit hysterical. Alex thought that captain Shaw was partially correct – they ought to be intimidated. They've hired them to do a certain job. Why protesting?

Professor, in his moralizing manner, started explaining the pros and cons of reducing to violence in conflict situations. Alex had to sit through the mini-lecture. He was proud – this time he has kept his mouth shut.

Alex has discovered this secret wisdom only recently but it worked out well.

Sean, a lazy slug, was inside the tent feigning the nausea. It couldn't be that bad, decided Alex.

Hank and Moira were sitting outside having a quiet conversation.

Loud screams could be heard from the direction of the river, but thick bushes didn't let him see what was happening over there.

'I'll go!' Alex stood up. 'I'm tired of sitting here doing nothing. What if I can help?'

That woman's look was practically dripping skepticism.

'Do you hear at least part of nonsense that comes out of your mouth?' MacTaggert asked without any pretense.

Previously, Alex noticed that she was behaving more lady-like only with professor Xavier around. Yeah, he had that effect.

'Charles is trying to protect us all! Don't you see?'

Alex snorted indignantly.

He was about to utter a smart reply, when he'd heard the gun shot.

Moira was rising to catch his sleeve but Alex was faster. He ran to the clearing just in time to see the professor deftly and swiftly – Alex had mentally made a note not to irate him anymore, because who knew – drawing a gun and shooting captain Shaw.

The natives wailed in unison as if they've been waiting for a signal. With wild cry they managed to break through to the forest.

Shots rang out.

Several people fell to the ground, but most rushed straight ahead and quickly disappeared in the upcoming darkness.

'Logan…' Alex has heard a soft whimper and turned around.

Moira was standing behind him.

He followed her tearful gaze and was hit with a wave of nausea. Logan was lying motionless on the ground thirty feet away. He was utterly, completely, deadly dead. His clothes and the grass around his body was generously imbathed in dark red blood. Something was pressing on his windpipe from inside and Alex suddenly couldn't draw a breath.

'Get them! Get them, morons!' Shaw was enraged. 'Who's going to carry my gold, idiots? Drag him here, Madrox!'

Tall, dark-haired man in the uniform pushed Xavier in Shaw's direction. He was already disarmed, clothes dirty and in disarray, his hands tightly tied behind his back.

Alex was not following.

Meanwhile Shaw pulled the professor closer and said something so quietly that Alex could only guess that it was meant to be a question later.

Professor tried to pull away shaking his head.

It was impossible to discern any words.

Shaw shrugged and seemed to calm down. He nodded to himself and cocked his head, curiously looking the professor up and down.

Alex breathed in – oh my, at last he can…

Shaw moved so quickly that Alex hasn't quite seen the strike. He heard the slap and saw a heavy revolver in Shaw's palm before it kicked in.

Charles, strangely quiet, sank to the ground.

Shaw bounced the revolver on the palm.

'What a shame! One smack and he's out!'

Moira was holding Alex's shoulder in unyielding grip, clamping one hand over his mouth.

'Stay back! Idiot! Do you want a hole in that stupid head of yours?' she twisted his arm and pulled Alex in the bushes.

He guessed that she was strong, but now he realized it to full extent.

Moira whispered furiously:

'Be quiet! We're unarmed and there's nothing we can do to help him! We must wait and regroup! Let's go!'

They ran to the tent as fast as possible.

'Hank, help Sean,' she gasped as soon as they reached their friends. 'We have to get out. Details ahead. Take guns, rifles, whatever you have – we cannot survive in the jungles unarmed! Quickly! Alex, move!'

She appeared from her own tent with a bag and a rifle at the ready.

The cries from the other side were getting closer and Moira motioned them to hurry.

When she told them that they could stay and get breath for a minute he did as she told. The only rebellious thought was – she must never be in charge again. What the hell?

Since when is this woman their… Oh god, realization struck him all at once.

What has he done?

He's done nothing.

Nothing...

'Alex, tell me what happened! And where's the professor?' Sean's voice rose and suddenly Alex was reminded that Sean was probably scared more than Alex.

He was frightened by shots, by commotion, by their pale faces and by the absence of their professor.

Alex threw up. He didn't realize why he was suddenly on the ground. Someone put a hand around his waist and tried to prevent him from falling flat on his face. Alex had no strength left to push the helping hand away. He wanted to say, wanted to explain, but the only sound he managed was a sob. After that came another one. And more.

He has never cried since his parents' death. Up till now.