Law of the Jungle

by Unknown Author

  “Well, my friend,” she said to Hank, tucking her arm in his elbow and strolling toward the heaped food for a second helping. “What would you recommend a lady such as I do to relax?”

  “Why, when I am in need of serious recuperation, a rousing game of chess is just the thing. Ka-Zar has a very fine set of pieces, did you know? Had them made in England from some mastodon ivory that he donated.”

  Ororo chuckled. “Ka-Zar has a surprising number of modem-world possessions, tucked here and there. Shanna had some testy words to say about it at lunch.”

  ‘ ‘Oh, yes. The ladies’ gab session down by the hot springs. How did that go?”

  “I can’t tell you. You’re one of the boys.” Ororo waved her, hand above her head, gave the cooling breezes a burst that would keep them going a while without further attention, and pulled the Beast toward the lodge. “All right. A game of chess. But you know you’ll win.”

  “That, my dear,” said Hank, “is what is so relaxing about it.”

  Wolverine finished his third circuit outside the stockade walls. No suspicious noises intraded from the darkness, just jungle chatter or the buzz of nocturnal insects pollinating the garden. No drank and disorderly tribesmen lurked in the shadows of the walls, needing a reminder to be cool. Most of all, Sauron did not come stumbling up to the gate, wings in tatters, soaking wet, and really mad at what he had been put through by the attendant squad of X-Men.

  Logan extended a claw and scratched one of his long sideburns. The wolf-bite mark there still itched, though the wound itself, like those everywhere else on his body, had closed and knit back together, courtesy of his healing factor.

  Sometimes sensations lingered—itches, tingles, heat—as scar tissue was absorbed and turned back into standard, good-as-new flesh.

  He had to watch himself whenever he started to feel good. It made him want to scrap and tussle all over again. Wasn’t that what all that vitality was for? That’s what he would say, if asked.

  But no one was asking. He didn’t have to play the tough guy with himself. That would be too much like having a conversation inside his head, and he had already gone through enough phases like that.

  Face it, bub, he thought, you might have to take a break and enjoy yourself.

  He reached a comer of the cultivated rows near the main enhance, and recognized the plants as tobacco. He was admiring their lushness when a village woman walked up. She seemed to take his interest in the leaf personally.

  “You grow this?” he asked.

  She nodded proudly. She held up her hand. In it was a cigar.

  “Bless you, darlin’,” Logan said, and received the gift with reverence. The woman giggled and vanished back inside the stockade.

  He examined his prize lovingly before pulling a match from his belt and lighting up. The natives of the Savage Land didn’t put their cigars in plastic wrappers and tuck them into boxes with brand names. They grew their tobacco on tiny, individually-tended plots of land like the one next to him. They carefully nurtured the plants, dried the leaves in the open air, and rolled the final product by hand. No chemical fertilizers. No pesticides. Logan’s healing factor barely needed to kick in as he drew in a soft, warm cloud and exhaled in a sinuous plume.

  He hadn’t smoked for a month before coming on the mission. Probably he would give it up again when he returned to the mansion—or at least, make a token attempt at it. But that was then and this was now. He filled his lungs again, closed his eyes, and smiled.

  When he opened them, a pair of well-built warriors emerged from the forest, following the torch-lit path to the stockade. Logan recognized them less by their silhouettes than by their supple strides and no-nonsense pace. And, of course, by their scent. Smoking a cigar didn’t deaden his mutant senses.

  “Gelm. Aben.” He spread his arms to greet the two Lake People warriors. How they must have run to have finished the journey from their territory in time for the feast.

  The pair whooped and rubbed wrists with the X-Man, looking as pleased to put in their appearance as when they had helped him snare Lupo. Gelm met his glance, took off his velociraptor necklace, and held it out.

  ‘ ‘Moshru,' ’ he said.

  Logan raised an eyebrow. “So. You heard about me, eh? Sure. Be glad to.” He took the necklace and placed it around his neck.

  He figured an hour would be about right, then he could give it back. By then, Gelm’s prized possession would be imbued with moshru, the essence of the god who had touched it. Logan found it somewhat embarrassing that the local people still thought enough of his previous visits to the Savage Land to regard him with such awe, but what the heck, anything for a friend. Besides, a bit of worship now and then sure beat the kind of treatment mutants received from the average citizen of the so-called civilized world.

  The arrivals lifted their noses, inhaled, and smiled at the delicious aromas coming from the heart of the village.

  “Whatcha waitin’ for?” Logan waved them in. “There’s plenty of grub and brew left.”

  The trio were drawn to the light of the bonfire and the cacophony of happy, singing voices. As they gravitated toward the banquet, they paused to admire the dancers, particularly the women, their hair twirling, their bodies glistening with perspiration and fragrant oils, their teeth blazing white inside smiles.

  “Now this is my idea of a party,” Logan declared, slapping his pals on the back.

  Psylocke noticed Logan hanging with his native friends. She turned and saw that Sam and Bobby were still happily allowing their feet to be turned to putty. She telepathically sensed Hank and Ororo in the lodge deeply immersed in chess strategy. Their contentment overflowed into her. The Xavier Institute and the team’s day-to-day responsibilities hovered in some distant comer, like a neglected cobweb on the verge of turning to dust. Leaving the Savage Land would not be easy for any of them.

  Across the feasting grounds, Ka-Zar gazed at her, and she gazed back. She could have probed to see what he was thinking, but she already knew. It was the same thing she was thinking. They had gone from the intrigue of what-might-be to the wistfulness of what-might-have-been.

  This was one of those times she knew she loved Warren all the more, because she stayed with him knowing she could, if she wanted, find herself in the arms of men as attractive as Lord Kevin Plunder. Choice made bonds strong. Ka-Zar knew that, too. The fact that he had chosen to be so firmly devoted to Shanna was, ironically, one of the traits that made him so desirable.

  She leaned back into Warren, pressing him more firmly against the shaman’s hut, letting her feel as though she were melting into him. She tilted her head. Their glances met. No wistful might-have-beens here. Just love, fulfilled.

  “You look like you slept well,” she said, stroking his cheek. “No more nightmares?”

  A vestigial dose of tension fled his shoulders. “No. No more nightmares.”

  “Sauron did you a favor, in the end,” she said. “Had you not faced him, you might have always wondered if you had what it took to shut him out.”

  He nodded. “I would rather have found out in a less dramatic way.”

  “True. But we’re X-Men. We don’t do anything like others do. Regular people pay analysts two hundred fifty an hour to sit ,on leather couches in offices. We journey to exotic locales and beat up on super-powered villains for catharsis.” He chuckled. Suddenly he squeezed her, his hug so fervent that she almost wished she hadn’t eaten so much of the feast. “Thank you for being here.”

  “And where else would I be, sir?”

  “I wasn’t very attentive to you this week. I wouldn’t have been surprised if you’d felt a little abandoned.”

  “You think I stay with you just for the companionship?” She laughed. “That you’re just a figurehead to keep me from being lonely?”

  “Of course not,” he said quickly. “Sometimes I feel too lucky to deserve you, is all. It seems a miracle to find you beside me, time after time.”

  “Have I ever given you
cause to doubt me?” she asked. His face rose into a smile. The expression looked so good on his blue-skinned, golden-maned features, she thought. She began plotting to find ways to keep him that way as often as possible.

  “No,” he said. “Not in any of the ways that matter.” She caressed his long, supple forearm. “What you said about not deserving me? Was that why you seemed so willing to sacrifice yourself back in the cavern? Were you so eager to die and leave me all alone?’ ’

  “No,” he said. “Rather the opposite. I realized that thanks to you, I’d had enough beauty and grace in my life to die content, if that’s what was needed.” He placed his hand atop hers and held it gently. “I have to admit, I’m delighted it didn’t come to that.”

  “As am I, love.”

  “It was more than coming to closure regarding Sauron,” he said. “1 was willing to face the unknown because I had already done it with you, when we forged the psionic link. Tell me, what do you think of the idea of building a new one?”

  She shivered, unsure whether the reaction was fear or delight. Probably both. “There’s no technical difficulty. With Professor X’s help we could even make it permanent, like what Jean and Scott have. I’ve been considering it for quite some time now.”

  “But?” His voice grew tight with worry.

  “I remember that moment in the cavern when I was sure you would be killed. The link was still active at that point. I knew if you died, I would feel it down to the core. Bad as it would be to have lost you at any other time, to lose you while we share the rapport would be the sort of anguish I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.”

  “Then,” he whispered, “you don’t want the rapport?” “Yes. I do,” she said. She kissed him. “I have no question about that. But I’m scared, Warren. Tell me, can you be sure you want to take that step? To be able to feel me die from a world away, if I should be the one to go first?”

  He glanced at the dancers. “I...” He sighed. “I’m not sure.”

  “Nor am I. Yet.” She smiled gently. “We have time. If we feel it’s right, we can always do it later. We could even craft temporary links in the meantime, like the one we used here, before Sauron ripped it away.”

  “In that case, we’ll be talking about it again.” He stood. “Elisabeth Braddock, will you fly with me tonight?” He held out his hand.

  “Warren Worthington III,” she replied, wiping a tear of joy from her cheek, “I thought you would never ask.”

  He lifted her in his arms, spread his wings, and they rose into the air, united. The village receded beneath them, the glow of the bonfire waiting for them like a candle in a window, lighting the way home. The Savage Land spread out in every direction, a haven of limitless potential. A symbol of the vast reaches, the dreams, contained within their hearts.